Chapter 53
53
BLAKE
“ B ack to bed.” When Evie steered me in the direction of my bedroom, I dug in my heels.
“We need to go to House Drakeheart, meet with Lady Fiona and give her that.” My eyes dipped to the dusty book cradled beneath Evangeline’s arm. Ash and Embers: Runes and Relics of the Lost Age. “Then we’ll see if Eldric was full of shit, or if his sister can really help us fix Riordan.”
“You are white as a fucking ghost. You’re going back to bed.” Her fingers dug into my arm, deep enough to get my attention.
A growl bubbled up in my throat before dying away. “You’re no good to me, unless you can use your magic.” Her voice was small, quiet, and tugged at my heart. “I’m…” she chewed on her lip, like she did when she was nervous. “I’m a liability in a fight, Blake. I have nothing…useful to offer, and after what happened with Morvessa, I’m not taking any chances.”
“Tell me what happened, Evie.” Whatever it was, had shaken her to her core and I hated to see her this unsure.
“Once you’re in bed, I’ll tell you everything.”
Blackmail, but the kind I didn’t mind so much, especially when she carefully peeled my shirt off, tucked blankets around me before stripping down herself. I couldn’t remember anything ever feeling so right as when she nudged me over, then snuggled beside me, one arm thrown over my waist, her head nestled in the crook of my arm.
Familiar. Like we’d been doing this for years.
She told me everything that happened, and beneath her words, I heard everything she didn’t say.
Especially when she reached the part where Morvessa and Riordan fought, with her trapped in between them. I kept myself from interrupting, when all I wanted to do was reassure my mate she was strong enough, brave enough, that she was… enough , exactly the way she was.
That I didn’t need magic or might, titles or fancy bloodlines to make her special. She was already the female my entire world revolved around. Only her. Evangeline Marten Graves.
“And when I asked Riordan if I would survive in this world without magic, he told me no. And he was right.”
That fucking bastard. Not Riordan, who could be a right fucking bastard when he wanted to, but this fucking Ravok. That was his way of cutting Evie down, his way of making her question her own strength.
“That’s how you got all these scars?” I asked, my thumb tracing down the back of her arm, feeling every tiny imperfection. My eyes dipped to the punctures on her wrist, not where I’d drank, but where she’d obviously fed Riordan.
“I guess they’re from the plants, the poison, everything flying around. The fight got a bit out of hand, actually.”
“What did Sylvester say?”
“He never looked at them.” She yawned, her body straining against mine before going boneless. “Too busy fixing you up. You were a mess.” Her hand drifted up over my heart, thumb tracing over my skin. “But now you’ll be fine,” she murmured sleepily .
“Evangeline. You have to get these healed.”
“Later. Need to sleep now. I love you.”
Those three words struck deep, the mating bond in my chest tightening, like the tether between us was knotting itself more firmly together. I love you . When had three words ever held the power of those?
“I love you, too, Evangeline.” I whispered, my insides bursting, a thousand more promises on my tongue. I want to fall on my knees and swear every oath to this female, pledge my life, my heart, my very soul to her.
But she was already dreaming.
The next morning, after we checked in on Angel—she was giving Bex a makeup lesson, of all fucking things—we flew twenty miles south, to an isolated hamlet nestled in the Catskills.
The Drakeheart estate was not like any other. Where most vampire manors loomed with dark elegance and oppressive grandeur, Drakeheart felt... alive. Twisting gardens sprawled around the main house, filled with vibrant red and gold flowers and strange plants glowing like living flames, and I wondered what they looked like at night.
Gardens of fire .
Magical, I supposed, like everything else here. The gothic manor radiated an air of quiet refinement. This wasn’t a fortress, like most vampire estates, but a sanctuary, where the quiet seeped into my bones, clearing my head.
Markham had once been like this, filled with light and life.
“I’ve never even imagined gardens like these. They don’t even look real.” Evie stared around with wide eyes. Right then, I resolved to bring her back at night, when they’d surely be spectacular.
We approached the carved iron doors, etched with intricate runes that pulsed faintly as we drew near. She glanced up at me, her hand hovering near her dagger’s hilt.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“No,” I said, honestly. “But we don’t have a choice.”
The door creaked open before either of us could knock, revealing a tall, willowy woman who looked even younger than Evie, with dark auburn hair swept into a loose braid. Lady Fiona Drakeheart.
Her yellow eyes flicked between us, coolly calculating and not in the least welcoming. She was young, at least by vampire standards—barely a few centuries old—but her presence commanded attention. She was dressed simply in a deep rust gown, shimmering with some arcane energy.
“Blake Marten,” she said, her tone clipped. “And Evangeline, I presume.”
Evangeline nodded; her expression guarded.
“You’re bold to come here,” Fiona continued, ushering us inside. “Given I’ve already told you I intend to remain neutral.”
“We’re not here to request an alliance,” I said quickly, stepping past her. The air in the manor was heavy with magic, the lingering scent of woodsmoke and embers. “We’ve come on an unrelated matter.”
Fiona led us through a series of arched, airy hallways to a sitting room bathed in the warm light of enchanted lamps. A large bookshelf dominated one wall; the other end of the room was an enormous fireplace framed by two windows. The towering chimney was a pair of dragons, necks intertwined, while their bodies formed the hearth, a fire cracking between their clawed feet.
“Let’s get this over with. Speak,” she said, taking a seat and gesturing for us to do the same. “What do you want from me? Fealty to your savagery? Bodies to fuel your war? Does the king expect me to bow and scrape before him?”
“None of those things.” I tried to get a read on her emotions, but they were all over the place. She was furious, but also scared—proud, but nervous.
“All the above are requests we’ve received from the former High Master .” She sneered. “Tyrell came here often, trying to force me to obey, him and that… creature Valaine.” Her lips curled. “Such foulness and corruption, I had to purge my house after they left.”
“We are not here in any official capacity. But we’ve come to ask a favor. Will you let us explain what we need, then perhaps you can tell us if what we ask is even possible?” Evangeline offered her a cautious smile, and after an exchanged glance, I took the lead.
“It’s Riordan,” I began. “He’s been possessed by Ravok.”
Fiona’s expression didn’t change, but I caught the faintest flicker of surprise in her eyes.
“Ravok,” she repeated, leaning back in her chair. “That’s a name I haven’t heard outside a classroom. You have my attention. Continue.”
“It’s not just a name,” Evangeline said. “He’s real. Somehow he got inside the castle, then into Riordan.”
Fiona tilted her head, studying us. “And you want me to help you rid the king of this possession?”
“Yes,” I said firmly. “We were told you might know how.”
Fiona’s lips curved into a wry smile. “Flattering. But tell me, why should I risk my house’s safety for this? What does it matter if Riordan is possessed? If anything, having an Elder on your side might be a boon. He’s certainly powerful enough to crush your enemies.”
Evangeline stiffened beside me, but I spoke before she could.
“Because that’s not what Riordan would want,” I said.
Fiona raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it? He wants a kingdom united under his rule, does he not? With such power, he could achieve that dream in months, not decades. Crush his enemies, rule with unassailable strength. Attacks—like the one at his coronation—would be a thing of the past.”
“He doesn’t want that kind of a reign,” Evangeline explained softly. “Riordan has fought for years to build something better—a kingdom that’s strong but just. Ravok would rule through fear, like Tyrell.”
Fiona’s gaze lingered on her, then shifted back to me. “And you agree?”
Evie looked at me with such tender hope, I grasped her hand.
“I do,” I said without hesitation. “This isn’t about what’s easy or expedient. Riordan’s vision is worth fighting for. If we let Ravok take over, we lose all the good he stands for.”
“Your brother Eldric told us to give you this.” Evie handed over the book on dragons. “Said it might come in handy.”
Fiona’s lips thinned out, then she burst into laughter. In truth, it had been so long since I’d heard anyone laugh so freely, the sound took me by surprise.
“That wyrm. This was my favorite book he borrowed nearly seventy years ago. I told him I’d never forgive him if I didn’t get it back. Now I supposed I’ll have to make amends and allow him back in the house.”
She studied us for a long time, long enough I was sure she was planning to send us packing. “Fine. I’ll do this one thing, but only because my brother has taken a shine to you. As far as I’m concerned, the crown can rot.”
“Where can we start?” Evie sucked in a quick breath. “I only ask because Riordan doesn’t have much time left.”
“Is he feeding from you? Fiona asked casually, sliding the book into place among the other worn, leather-bound books on the shelf. “I’m not being overly nosy, just…we have to incapacitate him and a frontal attack would not only be predictable to someone like Ravok, it would be suicide for all involved.”
Evie fidgeted, blushed bright red, then nodded, her gaze meeting mine for one fleeting second.
“Yes,” she admitted, too quietly, her fingers rubbing and rubbing over those punctures, the scent of her arousal hitting my nose like a drug.
I expected a flash of jealousy, even anger, but…
I shifted, turning away, surreptitiously adjusting my suddenly-hard cock at the filthy picture now painted in my head. My friend holding her down, feeding from her, her body writhing beneath his as he turned her mouth to mine. My tongue rimmed my emerging fangs, and fuck me if my hard on didn’t turn painful.
The idea was fucked up. It was hot. And now the idea was in my head.
“Good. But you should know—this won’t be easy.” Fiona said, as I slowly brought myself back to this room, to this conversation.
“Extracting a soul of this magnitude from a living host could kill Riordan. Dividing the two magics will be even harder on him. His body may not survive the separation.” Her fingers danced along the spines, pausing on a thick, black bound book.
Are you sure about this? I asked Evie, capturing her wrist, running my fingers over those twin bumps. There might be other options.
We don’t have time for other options. We either try this, or we lose him altogether. He’d want us to try, Blake, I know he would.
“We’ll take that risk,” I told her, my voice unwavering.
Fiona turned back to us, cradling the enormous book tightly in her arms. “You’re certain?”
“Yes,” I said. “This is what Riordan would want.”
Fiona studied us one last time before sitting across from Evangeline and dropping the book on the table between us with a whump and a cloud of dust. “Very well. But understand—if this fails, you’ll have an angry Elder to deal with, furious at being tricked. You’ll have a kingdom in chaos. You will have war.”
Evangeline lifted her chin, some of her old determination written in her stare, and I wanted to cheer. “We’re not failing.”
“Then this is how we kill a god.”