Blood Feast: A Fantasy Romance

10 Nights Until Winter Solstice

IMPERFECT BUT UNbrOKEN

Cassia was out oftime for magic lessons. But she would tame her infernal roses to clear the way for the avowal ceremony if it was the last thing she did.

As if she could cow them with a gaze, she glared at the wild things still growing out of the broken floor. If she had learned anything from Kalos so far, though, it was that controlling her magic was more complicated than merely Willing the Lustra to obey her.

Tightening her grip on the sheaf of herbs she held, she swept her hand downward toward the ground in a forceful gesture. Magic puffed through the leaves. Promising. She felt an answering stir in the black roses.

One thorny vine, heavy with dark blooms, gave a creak. Ever so slowly, the rose branch slithered off a chunk of marble, receding back into the hole.

Then it stopped.

Cassia threw the herbs on the ground. “This isn’t working!”

“It is.” Kalos was out of his bandages but still moved carefully as he gestured around her. “Look how much progress you’ve made.”

She surveyed the results of their painstaking magic lessons, which had demanded even more effort than avowal planning and rehearsals. She had managed to tame most of the roses and twine them artfully around the pillars. But the vines growing up from the heart of her spell still resisted her. Where the letting site had exploded through the floor, a riot of the flowers still spread every which way, holding the rubble in their clutches.

“You can’t repair the floor like this, Papa,” Cassia said in despair.

Apollon made a coaxing gesture at the one block of marble she had freed. The stone levitated out of the roses’ reach. “Our guests can stand somewhere else.”

“There won’t be room for everyone.” Cassia rubbed her temples.

“Then they can levitate,” he said.

Aunt Lyta’s laughter drifted down from the gallery. She adjusted a silk drape over the banister, then returned to conjuring wards over the hole in the roof. Flurries of fresh snow threatened to make their way in.

Cassia’s magic pulsed in her veins like a panicked heartbeat. “Kalos, there must be something else we can try.”

He rubbed his chin. “I was sure using the right plants in your casting would work for you. But we’ve tried all the incantations, gestures, and spell ingredients I’ve seen heart hunters use—or heard of Silvicultrixes using in the tales. I’m sorry, Cassia. So much knowledge of our magic has been lost.”

“I’m sorry, too.” Their sympathy for each other’s plight twinged in the Blood Union.

“I’m afraid there may be only one solution,” Kalos said.

She looked away from the roses to meet his grim gaze. “Whatever it is, I will try it.”

“It’s not that simple.” He grimaced. “I think you need a triune focus.”

“What is that?” she asked.

“Well, in the legends, a Silvicultrix would use artifacts in her rituals. A set of three that helped her focus the massive amounts of magic she could pull from the Lustra. Those were the most powerful Lustra artifacts, the ones the Silvicultrixes used to create letting sites.”

Cassia’s hand went to her pendant. “Do you think this could be one?”

Kalos nodded. “I think that used to be one of the Changing Queen’s three foci. Now it has become yours.”

Cassia’s shoulders slumped. “How can I find two more artifacts this powerful?”

“Well, you can’t. A focus has to be made. You give it life by using it during rituals.” He pointed at the pendant. “Like your Gifting.”

She stared down at the fused disc, half wood, half metal. Her bastardization of her ancient matriarch’s artifact. “It’s debatable whether I am even a Silvicultrix anymore.”

He blinked at her in surprise. “Of course you’re still a Silvicultrix.”

“I only have the one Lustra affinity now, turned into something else altogether thanks to my blood magic.”

“You are Orthros’s Silvicultrix, regardless,” Apollon said.

A smile came to her face. “Thank you, Papa.”

He took her hand in both of his ancient, strong ones. “It’s time for you to get ready for the ceremony.”

“But the roses…” she protested.

“Leave the rest to me. This is your avowal. Lay all your worries in the hands of those who love you and Lio so you can fully enjoy this night.”

It sank in anew, one of the quietest but most profound revelations of her new life. She could ask for help. She even had a father who would move mountains to ease her burdens. This heretical patriarch who was the antithesis of her mortal sire.

“You have my gratitude,” Cassia said.

“You have my love,” Apollon replied.

It was so hard to do, but she turned away from the roses. She let the latent magic drain out of her. Her years of survival and self-preservation were harder to fight than those wild flowers, but she relinquished control. Leaving her goal unfinished, she trusted her Grace-father to have her back.

Cassia looked into thefull-length mirrors and could scarcely believe the vision in the glass was her present life. It was so different from the future her past self had feared.

She wasn’t looking at an empty husk dressed in a Tenebran wedding gown fit for a funeral. She wasn’t dreading a march to Anthros’s altar to be sacrificed to a man. And she wasn’t alone.

The mirror showed her freckled self and her shaggy dog, the one constant at her side. But now her freckled self had fangs and wore a green silk veil hours robe, ready to be dressed for her very Hesperine avowal ceremony.

She was surrounded by people who wanted to make this night wonderful for her. Komnena smoothed her hair, and Solia pressed her cheek to Cassia’s, looking into the mirror with her. Behind them, her Trial sisters were busy preparing her Grace-mother’s lavish dressing room, where they would get Cassia ready.

She couldn’t wait to walk through the Ritual hall to Lio’s side.

A laugh bubbled out of her. No mortal wedding for her. She was about to drink her lover’s blood in front of everyone in a circle consecrated to the profane goddess Hespera.

She had found her Grace, and tonight, she would finally get to say it to all of Orthros.

Komnena handed her a handkerchief. Cassia let out an exasperated groan at herself and wiped her eyes.

Solia patted her shoulder. “Let all the tears out now, before we get you dressed.”

Cassia squeezed her eyes shut. “Bleeding thorns, I had planned to be triumphant tonight, not dissolve into tears.”

“You’ve earned your tears, dear one,” Komnena said.

“I will allow myself one cry. One.” Cassia’s shoulders shook.

“It’s all right,” her Grace-mother soothed. “We all wish Thalia were here tonight.”

Cassia sobbed harder. “Yes, but…I also didn’t think you and Solia and everyone else would be here. I thought tonight might never come. My life is so much better than I expected.”

“That and missing your mother can be true at the same time.” Solia wrapped her arms around Cassia. “I miss her too.”

“And Iris,” Cassia said through her tears.

Her sister’s aura panged with shared grief. “Yes. We can’t bring them back. But we can be here. All of us.”

Solia released her, only to go and open the door. Cassia caught the scent of indigo plants just before Kella rode in on Tilili. They were dressed in white Azarqi finery, from Kella’s flowing tunic to her cat’s silver-bangled saddle.

“You were able to leave the siege,” Cassia exclaimed in relief.

Kella’s deep blue lips curved in a smile. “And I brought a friend from Tenebra.”

When another mortal followed her inside, Cassia struggled not to start crying all over again. “Perita? You came to my Hesperine avowal?”

Her former handmaiden and oldest friend put her hands on her hips. “Of course, my lady. Did you think I would let anyone else dress you for such an important occasion?”

Cassia put her arms around Perita, careful not to jostle the infant her friend carried in a sling across her chest. Impressions of Perita’s aura washed over her, new and yet so familiar. Pretty spring flowers and herbs with bite. “Thank you for coming all this way—with a new babe—and leaving your duties—”

“I’d like to see anyone try to stop me. I’m sorry you and your Hesperine owl won’t get to have that Tenebran wedding you were planning on. But at least I can help with your avowal.”

“Is Callen with you?”

“He wouldn’t let me and little Callen out of his sight,” Perita confirmed, patting their son. “He’s with the other males, helping them make your Ambassador Fancy Soap even fancier for the ceremony.”

Cassia laughed. “I missed you so much.”

Perita sat Cassia down at the broad marble dressing table. “Where shall we start?”

“Can I help?” Zoe peeked out from under the table, where she was playing with her goats. Knight laid down on Cassia’s feet, and Zoe put her arm around his neck.

“Of course we need your help.” Solia smiled down at Zoe. “Cassia always helped me get dressed for important events when she was your age.”

Kia pressed a goblet into Cassia”s hands. “Here’s something a little stronger than wine, guaranteed to relax Hesperines.”

“Sit back and bask.” Xandra draped a towel around Cassia’s neck, the soft fabric deliciously warm.

While Perita laid out hairbrushes and ribbons, the Hesperines passed little Callen back and forth, cooing over the tiny mortal with fanged smiles.

Nodora, clearly the one in command of the entire endeavor, gestured to the dazzling array of cosmetics she had prepared. “I brought a complete color selection from the Kitharan Theater. Only Matsu’s finest creations. This is the benefit of my Ritual mother being an icon of Hesperine fashion.”

Nodora had told Cassia of Matsu’s mortal life, when she had been born a man, only able to express her womanhood when she played feminine roles in the theater. As a Hesperine, Matsu could now live as her true self both on and off the stage, and she was renowned for beauty spells and alchemy that helped every immortal lady feel like her best self.

“Please give her my gratitude.” Cassia clutched her hands together, hardly knowing which pot of feminine magic to pick up first.

She eyed a tiny, beautiful bottle of scent oil, wary of giving past fears an opportunity to intrude on this night. She picked it up slowly and popped the cork. All she felt were the loving auras around her. She took a deep whiff. All she smelled were roses.

Komnena smiled at her. “Well done, my brave girl.”

Cassia squeezed her Grace-mother’s hand, thankful for her and every other mind healer who had been an ally in her daily effort to heal from the memories of her past.

Solia took the bottle and dabbed rose oil on Cassia’s wrists. “This is no Autumn Greeting, Pup. We’re going to get you avowed to that faithful, adoring scrollworm of yours, and then we’ll drink each other under the table like proper mercenaries.”

Cassia’s laughter was interrupted by the door swinging open again. Orthros’s Oracle sailed in, directing a small army of her initiate weavers and seamstresses, who levitated Cassia’s avowal robe in on a stand. Cassia had seen many of Kassandra’s stunning creations, but clearly, she still had the ability to make Cassia’s jaw drop.

The white silk robe looked like it had been woven from the Light Moon itself. The botanical patterns in the intricate brocade were exquisite, and Cassia could only imagine how long it had taken Kassandra to weave them. The embroidery gleamed, applied in thread of real gold.

Perita whistled. “Orthros white outshines Segetian gold, and that’s the truth.”

Kassandra straightened the hem, surveying her work. “When a Hesperine avows into a bloodline, they are the Whiteblood in the ceremony and wear this color as a symbol that they’re bringing light to their new family. The Hesperine welcoming them in, the Redblood, will wear red to signify the giving of a new bloodline to their Grace.”

“Like the two moons?” Perita guessed.

“Yes.” Nodora let out a dreamy sigh. “It’s such a beautiful tradition. The Whiteblood’s family wear white, too, and the Redblood’s line all wear red to show that they’re joining together along with the couple.”

“Wait till I tell everyone back home about this!” Perita exclaimed. “They’ll gossip about it for a decade, and every lady from Solorum to Corona will be green with envy.”

The harpies of the court would hear about how the deposed king’s bastard had risen from her past to wear a robe fit for an immortal. But that didn’t matter to Cassia anymore.

She could see her future in this silk and gold. This night, when she and Lio would make their vows. The years to come, when a portrait of them in their avowal robes would hang in the home they made together. The centuries ahead, when they would wear these robes each time they brought a new Hesperine into their family. She would hold their children at first Ritual in this robe.

Cassia pressed Kassandra’s hand. “I have no words.”

Kassandra smiled. “The Oracle has made the Soothsayer speechless? High praise indeed.”

Cassia looked into the seer’s eternal gaze. Time flowed around Kassandra like light, past and future ever-present in her vision. Was she referring to the affinity that was lost to Cassia now? Or was she saying that Lio’s quest to secure Cassia’s other magics would come true?

When Cassia heard a staff tapping in the corridor, her heart lifted. The earthy fragrances of medicinal plants entered the room with Tuura. New lines creased her deep brown skin, and her round figure was less generous than before. But after her collapse in Tenebra, Cassia could only be grateful the Ashes’ diviner was alive and on her feet again.

“Peanut!” Cassia helped her to a chair by the dressing table. “How are you feeling?”

“Much restored.” Tuura waved her off. “No need to fuss over me, Shadow.”

Solia slid a pillow behind Tuura’s back. “You fuss over us every time we get a scratch in battle. It’s our turn.”

Tuura sighed. “You should know healers make terrible patients.”

“Allow us to fuss,” Kella said. “That’s an order.”

“If you insist, First Blade.” Tuura leaned forward to peruse the cosmetics. “These are the work of a brilliant alchemist. Could they be Muse Matsu’s famous creations that I’ve heard so much about?”

“Yes!” Nodora reached for a delicate ceramic jar that waited off to one side, offering it to Tuura. “She asked me to give this to you, a custom batch of her Eternal Silk Cream.”

“Is this the one that magically dissolves beards?”

Nodora nodded. “It can be used anywhere you prefer not to shave.”

“I’ll have to thank her in person and chat about alchemy.” Tuura was clearly delighted. She came from a kinder tradition in which no one questioned a diviner for rejecting manhood and embracing her spiritual nature as a woman, but her masculine features were still troublesome to her at times.

“I’ll introduce you at the ceremony,” Nodora promised. “I know she would love for you to come by her residence afterward.”

Cassia bit her lip, hesitant to interrupt, but she could sense the deep exhaustion that lingered under Tuura’s cheer. “How long can you stay? Lio and I would never forgive ourselves if coming to our avowal made you fall ill like you did in Tenebra.”

“I believe I will be all right here in Orthros. I couldn’t let the other Ashes witness at your ceremony without me.”

Kella fixed Tuura with a gaze. “If you start to feel ill, don’t try to hide it. Karege will take you straight back to the Empire to restore your connection to the ancestors.”

“Don’t fear, Standstill,” Tuura reassured her. “I have no desire to repeat what happened last time.”

The same worry clouded Solia’s emotions. “Are you sure Orthros Boreou is safe for you? Our communication with the spirit phase is cut off in this entire hemisphere, isn’t it?”

Cassia nodded. “The Diviner Queen cast a barrier to stop the Old Masters from traveling through the spirit phase to the Empire. Her spell affects Cordium, Tenebra, and Orthros Boreou as far as we know.”

“That’s what so interesting,” Tuura said. “Being in Tenebra was certainly detrimental due to how it affected my ancestral magic. But Orthros feels different.”

Kia’s gaze sharpened with curiosity. “How so?”

“The barrier is less absolute here,” Tuura mused. “I cannot speak to the ancestors, but they feel close to me.”

The implications made Cassia’s head spin.

Kia leaned forward. “Are you saying it might be easier to break through to the spirit phase here?”

Komnena shook her head. “It’s not possible to make spirit gates in Orthros Boreou. We’ve tried. We can only open them in Orthros Notou, in the same hemisphere as the Empire.”

“Even so,” Tuura said, “the Diviner Queen’s magic is weaker here. My theory is that the barrier is strongest near the site where she cast the spell to divide the phases. Orthros Boreou must be geographically farther from it.”

Gooseflesh broke out on Cassia’s skin. “That would have been where she collapsed her spirit gate between the shadowlands and the Empire.” She thought back to the ruined city of Btana Ayal, deep in the Maaqul Desert, where she had seen the stone megaliths of the shattered gate. “Of course. The other side of the gate must still exist. Somewhere on this continent lies Btana Ayal’s sister ruin.”

“Somewhere far from Orthros,” Xandra said, “where you don’t need to worry about it.”

Tuura nodded. “Don’t let ancient mysteries trouble your mind tonight. Suffice it to say, I’m well enough to refuse Karege’s invitations to carry me to your avowal.”

Cassia tried to laugh, pushing her thoughts away. But they formed new specters to haunt the back of her mind.

If there was a sister gate, would the Old Masters try to use it somehow? If the barrier was weaker in Orthros, would they ever seek to exploit that to reach the Empire?

Cassia, what’s wrong?Lio asked.

Will you believe me if I tell you it’s nothing?

No.

Will you postpone getting a confession out of me, then, so we can enjoy tonight?

Hmm. That depends. I do enjoy seducing confessions out of you.

Tonight, I want all the seduction, no confessions necessary. Truly, Lio. I don’t want to think about anything except us.

In that case, we will ignore whatever it is together, and I will seduce you to distraction.

With anticipation of their avowal night heating her veins, it was easier to forget about the necromancer lurking at the door.

This was Lio’s lastchance not to ruin their avowal.

His final attempt at a glass masterpiece hovered between his hands. He levitated it deeper into the opening of his kiln. Just close enough to the heat but not too close.

“You’re going to be late to your own ceremony.” Tendo crossed his arms, persperation trickling down his chest in the sweltering workshop.

“There won’t be a ceremony if I don’t finish this cup,” Lio replied through gritted teeth.

He watched the glass soften, sensing how the resonance of the magic changed. Almost there. The sleeve of his work robe fell down, but he didn’t dare shove it back up above his elbow.

Hoyefe folded it back for him. The Ashes’ virtuoso swordsman somehow managed to look groomed and gallant while they were all covered in soot or sweat. “I can have you looking your best in minutes, but even I have my limits.”

“Can we help with anything else?” Karege’s legendary cloud of hair was frizzing around his head in the dry heat. The burly mercenary took a step closer, and glass crunched under his sandal.

Mak winced. “Not much we can do at this point. Lio’s using the last of the glass he made from the ingredients everyone brought, and it took nights for that to reach the proper consistency.”

Callen eyed the failed attempts that littered the floor. Perita’s husband had abandoned his shirt too, his Tenebran constitution clearly unused to this heat. He picked up a chipped cup without a stem and carried it over to the worktable. “Anyone else need a drink?”

“I wouldn’t use that one,” Uncle Argryos advised. “It exudes unstable jinn magic.”

Callen carefully set the vessel back down. Uncle Argyros poured him some coffee in a mundane copper cup, then added a generous splash of liquor.

Lio snatched his work in progress out of the heat, levitating it back to him. He took his tongs to the molten glass, shaping the rim of the chalice with the greatest care. To reveal the flower petals trapped within, he thinned the glass. But if he thinned it too much, all his effort to preserve the magic inside would be ruined.

“We should let the fellow concentrate on his art.” Hoyefe shooed Tendo toward the stairs leading up into the tower.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Tendo said. “I’ll drag this silkfoot out of here myself before I let him leave Cassia at the Ritual circle.”

“I would never do that to her!” Lio said. The glass panes in the shelves rattled. The chalice before him whined.

“I’d better stay too,” Mak said.

Lyros nodded. “In case we need more wards.”

“What this artist needs is inspiration.” Tendo’s eyes narrowed. “Threats are very inspiring. Work faster, or I’ll break your toes. You don’t need those to make glass.”

“I need them to stand for the ceremony!” Lio protested.

Tendo waved a hand. “You heal fast.”

Lio paused to bite his tongue and lick his tongs. He applied the bloodied metal to the cup again, painting the rim with his blood. More magic infused the glass. He prayed the fragile material wouldn’t shatter this time. A scrap he had trimmed off the piece exploded at his feet.

Mak and Lyros trapped the flying glass in a warding spell, then shoved it out of the way into the pile.

Hoyefe strolled through the cleared path. “I shall work some magic of my own upstairs and be waiting with everything ready. The moment the cup is finished, I’ll melt our wayward Redblood down and pour him into his avowal robes.”

“That sounds painful,” Lio muttered, “but thank you.”

Hoyefe beckoned to Callen. “Come along, fellow warrior. It falls to us to save the day.”

Callen grabbed the bottle of liquor and followed Hoyefe out. Their auras drifted upstairs while Lio kept his gaze on his work.

“It looks finished,” Tendo said.

Lio shook his head.

Lyros peered over Lio’s shoulder. “The magic isn’t complete.”

Tendo sighed and threw up his hands.

Lio gathered his thelemancy. Mak and Lyros conjured another shadow between the glass and everyone else.

“It is no easy feat to capture eternity in a single object,” Uncle Argyros said. “The ceremony will wait.”

As grateful as Lio was for the reassurance, he knew that if this cup broke, too, it would be too late to start over.

What’s wrong?Now it was Cassia’s turn to ask.

If I tell you it’s nothing, I suppose you won’t believe me, either.

Of course not.

I still haven’t managed a perfect cup, he finally confessed. Oh my Goddess, Cassia, I’m afraid I’m going to ruin this night.

Her laughter sparkled through him, more beautiful than any glass. Lio. It doesn’t have to be perfect, remember? It only needs to be ours.

Theirs. He could not possibly make this more theirs after everything he had poured into his unstable, powerful creation.

The flaws in the glass are my favorite part, too,she said.

Lio let the tension drain out of him, let his thelemancy flow as gently into the glass as into her mind every time he reached for her. He stopped trying to craft a precise spell and allowed his casting to flow according to natural laws he did not fully understand. The Lustra had taught him that.

His power took on the bizarre magical patterns he had wrought, against all odds, inside the material. Their disparate affinities, in Union, reacted with the forces that had brought him and his Grace together, retracing their painful, wondrous path to each other.

The glass hummed, hardening before his eyes. The enchantment came to life, sending a tremor through Lio’s veins. He felt Cassia’s ephemeral gasp.

A thousand shatters assaulted his ears. Shards of glass danced through the air around him. One nicked his face, and blood trickled into his mouth.

The chalice dropped into his hands, imperfect but unbroken.