The Blood Crown (The Blood Folk #2)

4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

T he sun was still high above their heads as Ven built a fire.

Not wanting to risk the flames drawing anything’s attention, they ate their roasted squirrel in silence as the afternoon light began to fade into amber.

Karro sang a tune, his voice low and lilting as dusk crept across the forest. Hands busy with one of his black-bladed knives as he whittled curls of wood from a small branch, tossing them into the fire. Her gaze strayed to where Ven sat across the flames, arms braced on his thighs, the flickering light turning his hair indigo and scarlet, highlighting the sharp planes of his face.

Why did you leave, Aurelia.

She was a fucking coward for not telling him the truth—for not admitting the truth to herself.

Attempting to break free from her thoughts, she glanced up at Karro. “You have a voice people in the Capitol would pay good money to hear.”

Karro paused, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The halls of Ravenstone were always filled with music when I was a child. My father was a battle-hardened warrior, but he was a musician at heart.”

It was the first she’d heard him speak of his father; Ven’s grandsire. “What was he like?” she asked.

“A born leader,” he answered, “like my sister, like Ven.” He tilted his head toward his brother.

His nephew in truth. A fact that still surprised her. They'd been raised together, looked enough like each other that she hadn't realized until Ven told her Karro was his mother's much younger brother.

“Not you?” she pressed.

He shook his head with a half-smile. “No—never desired it.”

She studied him, turning over the admission. From everything she’d witnessed of him, he was brave, selfless. The Wraiths seemed to pay the same reverence to him as they did to Ven, so she was reluctant to believe him.

Ven’s gaze had fallen to Karro as well, some undercurrent to this conversation that she was missing. His eyes snagged on her, his wistful expression quickly falling into a smirk. “If I recall, quite a few females tumbled into your bed for a song.”

Karro smiled, eyes trained on the edge of his blade. “A few—but it never seemed to keep them for long.”

His voice was heavier with the words than she’d expected. But before she could consider it, his singing resumed.

He smothered the fire as the last dregs of sunset began to recede over the mountains, covering it with damp leaves until the flames died out entirely and not even a single glowing ember remained.

Dread pooled in Aurelia's stomach as she watched the shadows stretch throughout the forest.

“Get some rest,” Ven said quietly, standing up and helping her to her feet.

Karro gave her a nod as he took up vigil just inside the cave mouth, hidden behind the pines, but with a good vantage point of the hillside below.

A small flicker of light caught her eye as she began to turn away, and she glanced toward the movement, thinking it had been a trick of the fading sunlight until Ven gripped her arm forcefully enough to make her hold her breath.

The forest had darkened now, pale lavender and watery gray turning into indigo and violet. Painting the pines emerald and midnight blue. But just then—

Another flare of light. Pale and warm. Seeming to radiate from . . . nowhere. Like a small beacon in the middle of the forest, disappearing so quickly that she wondered again if she’d imagined it.

Once more the light flared to life, a few dozen feet away, seeming to float in midair as it bobbed gracefully between the lowest branches of the trees.

She glanced to where Ven stood beside her, his hand still gripped around her arm as if she might try to wander off into the darkened forest.

“Was that . . .” Karro’s voice trailed off into barely a whisper.

Ven gave a nearly imperceptible dip of his chin in response.

Aurelia took a small step back against the hard chest behind her, and Ven loosened his grip slightly. “What is it?” she asked, unable to take her eyes from the fading light that bobbed silently through the air, pulsing like a steady heartbeat as it faded into the pitch-colored pines ahead.

“Something old.”

Both sets of red eyes scanned the forest before Ven gently tugged on her arm and led her into the cave.

Her eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness that enveloped them. Piles of dry leaves and pine needles were scattered across the floor, the bones of small animals littering the space, but it was clean enough. Dry. Safe. Hidden.

“What was that?” she finally asked again, once they were safely in the darkened space, far enough away from the entrance that it didn’t seem a risk to speak.

Ven swept away the debris from the cavern floor. “A wisp,” he answered without looking up.

She glanced out to the forest beyond. “A woodsman’s folly?” She’d heard tales of them, old lore that phantom lights would appear to woodsmen who strayed too far into the Shades past dark.

“Harmless on their own, but they like mischief.”

She knelt on the floor beside him, helping clear the space. “If they’re harmless, why do you seem so unsettled.”

“They have a habit of leading people into danger. Usually those who are already lost. Desperate.” He stretched out on the stone, seeming quite at home sleeping on the hard floor of a cave. “People follow the wisps thinking the lights will guide them to safety, but they rarely do.”

She laid down beside him. The cavern was large enough to comfortably fit them both, but any space that she shared with him always felt too small. And even though she would have had to reach out her arm to touch him, she could feel the warmth of his body through the dark, sinking into her skin. A delicious heat that took away the chill, begging her to inch closer.

She was tired in a way she’d never been, exhausted from the full day of carefully picking their way through the Shades. But she knew sleep wouldn’t find her tonight, so instead she plucked a thought from the dregs of her mind as she stared up into the pitch black of the cave.

“Who was your grandsire?”

Ven lifted his arms, clasping his hands behind his head as he settled against the floor.

“He was the last to wear the Solari crown,” he finally answered. "The last Blood King."

She sucked in a breath. “So your mother . . .” The small bits and pieces that he’d told her fell into place at once. He wasn’t just the leader of the Wraiths, he was royalty. The last of his bloodline. “When we went to the Allokin Kingdom—” she said, “the king called you prince .”

“A title I gave up long ago.” Ven answered softly.

The silence stretched tight between them in the dark, the only sound the slow, steady beat of his heart.

“My grandsire saw his people’s magick dwindling, a kingdom fractured—he had a vision of a different future. A new king had just taken the Nostari throne and my grandsire thought him more reasonable than his predecessors. He sent a raven with a treaty, proposing that males and females from opposite courts sire a new generation that would bring back the magick the Blood Folk had lost and help unite the kingdom.

"Each noble house sent a son or daughter to the moot, and though her older sister warned against it—my mother went as well, some voice inside of her nudging her actions that day."

She couldn't have said if it was admiration or the regret of hindsight that tinged his voice.

"She saw my father for the first time at that meeting." He gave a humorless laugh. " Struck was the word she used." Sound rasped against the cave floor as he shifted. "She could have denied it, ignored the pull she felt toward him, but she claimed him."

She hummed her confusion at the word.

“A vow that enacts ancient magick binding two people to each other." She could hear wry humor in his voice as he said, "You asked me once, if a bargain struck cannot be broken. In our world, that is a blood oath. And the act of claiming someone involves a blood oath that cannot be broken even by death. Something akin to taking a wife, a husband, but far more permanent. An old custom that hails back to when the Blood Folk were no more than warring clans.”

“But it’s not the same as being Bound?”

“No—” he answered quickly, too quickly. “Being Bound is . . . undeniable. Irrefutable. Claiming someone is a choice. There is no act of Fate involved. And my mother chose my father, leaving her kingdom for him—for a chance of peace between the two courts.” The words were bitter. “Whether it was out of a sense of duty or some spark of love . . . I’ll never know. But their union, along with a host of others, brokered a reconciliation between the kingdoms for a time.”

He'd told her of the failed experiment. That the offspring of the two courts had been hunted to extinction during the war—all except for him.

“The Nostari grew restless, and it wasn’t long before battles broke out along the border between the courts. People on either side found themselves with the choice to stay loyal to their court . . . or loyal to their claimed.” He loosed a heavy breath. “I was seven when my mother fled back to her people, but many of them felt she'd betrayed them the day she claimed my father. My grandsire was feared, loved. And for that love, they accepted her when she returned, but it was a lonely existence for both of us.

“Months after our return, her older sister—the heir to my grandsire’s throne—went hunting at the edge of the wards. Nostari assassins had been waiting for her. They killed her and her company of guards, leaving them like carrion in the Shades until sentries found them days later. A message." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "My mother did her best to shield me from the comments, the names . . . but even a child can sense when people are frightened of him. And as I grew into adolescence, went into stasis and my power developed—they had reason to be. I wielded the magick of an enemy kingdom,” he murmured, the ache of a lonely child leaking through the words.

“Karro on the other hand, was well-loved. And for some reason, he took me under his wing, forcing everyone else to love me as much as he did—or at least accept me.”

He shifted, the soft rustle of noise telling her that he’d turned to face her in the dark. “There were some in the kingdom who never forgave my mother for claiming my father. And after my grandfather died, she ascended the throne as his heir, but she never placed his crown upon her head.” His voice was tinged with sadness. “I’m not sure if it was out of guilt or grief, but it kept the kingdom stable and it placated the ones who believed the crown should have passed to Karro.”

“But Karro was a child—” she countered.

“We both were,” he murmured. “I so badly wanted my mother’s people to see that I wasn’t that. That I was more than my father’s blood. But I knew that I’d never win the Solari’s affection by sitting at my mother’s side. I needed to prove myself to them. Earn their trust. Convince them that my blood was not tainted.”

Her heart was heavy for the boy that Ven had once been. Alone. An outsider.

“So I joined the Wraiths—earned my way through blood and grit just like every other male and female. I was no one amongst their numbers, just another warrior in the ranks, and I thrived. For the first time, no one cared who my mother was—who my father was. Only who I was.”

“In the end we won the war . . . but so much was taken that it hardly tasted of victory. Some of the louder voices amongst the remaining nobility expected Karro and I to fight for the throne. But there had already been so much bloodshed, so much loss, that we both refused it.”

“And now?” she asked.

“I am the Wraith Commander, as I have always been. And if Karro decides tomorrow that he wants to wear the crown, he will have no argument from me.”

Despite Ven’s insistence that he didn’t desire the throne, Karro clearly didn’t seem inclined to accept it. The boastful, bawdy show he put on was an act. She’d become certain of that in the time she’d come to know him. Sure, he was cocky, always quick with a witty comment and a smirk, but there was much more depth to him than he cared to admit.

He was loyal to a fault. He’d defended her in the Allokin Kingdom and gotten locked in a prison cell next to her. She’d witnessed him face down death without a thought. And beneath the large, frightening warrior that had twin spiraling dashes down his arms rivaling even Ven’s, was a male who was kind, and patient, and good. One who had taught her how to fight. One who had helped to give her back the pieces of herself that she’d lost.

But she wondered if his light-hearted disposition was to ward off the danger of taking himself seriously, because then others might, too.

The space had fallen quiet again as she asked, “What of Seth and Nira? Are they family as well?”

Ven’s low rumble of laughter filled the cave, and it seemed the heaviness that had settled over them lifted just a fraction.

“They’re not blood relations, though they might as well be.” She heard him shift again, settling in once more as he said, “Before the war, when magick was still wild and plentiful, there were dangerous creatures that prowled the in-between.”

The timbre of his voice made her eyelids feel heavy, the rich sound of it deep and melodic. And she would have asked him anything to keep him talking.

“The wards surrounding the realms kept them at bay,” he continued, “but traveling between kingdoms was hazardous. Seth saved my mother’s life on more than a few occasions. He’s more myth than male at this point, though you’d never guess with how little he speaks of himself.”

She had suspected as much. Something about Seth spoke of tightly controlled power. The shadows that rippled from him darker than the others, older, deadlier.

“And Nira?” she asked.

“Nira—is who my mother sent to deal with the spies and traitors within her kingdom.”

Aurelia quietly shuddered at the thought. Nira was frightening enough, and the female seemed to like her. What it would be like to face Nira’s wrath was something she didn’t care to imagine.

“I met Nira officially my first day of training on the Ledge.” Ven glanced toward her, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.

Aurelia's laughter echoed along the stone between them. “She trained you?”

“If you call getting your ass kicked repeatedly ‘training,’ sure.” His laughter reverberated through her chest. “I’d just gone through stasis and I thought I was a force to be reckoned with. And what better way to prove my prowess on the first day than challenging one of the most feared Wraiths in history.”

“I can only imagine how that went for you,” she drawled.

“And you only know Nira as she is now—Embra’s softened her considerably over the last two hundred odd years. But make no mistake, Nira would still kick my ass if she thought I needed humbling.”

Aurelia smiled at the thought of her friends, holding onto the hope that she would see them again soon. Conjuring an image of Embra, backlit by the warm glow of her greenhouse, her tinkling laughter filling the tower at Ravenstone.

“Embra said it took her years to work up the nerve to approach Nira,” she said, smiling to herself at the thought.

“It did,” Ven rolled his eyes with feigned suffering. “It was clear to the rest of us how madly they wanted each other much earlier than that, but believe it or not—Nira was the one who was terrified to admit her feelings to Embra.”

Aurelia laughed, the sound of unstifled joy catching her off guard.

“It’s true!” Ven protested from beside her. “I’d catch Nira at the bottom of the tower steps, watching Embra work in her laboratory through the glass doors— pining is probably more accurate,” he chuckled. “Her excuses for being there were always pathetically flimsy, but the rest of us knew for years that she and Embra were—” His words broke off, something like sadness lacing his voice.

Bound. Embra had told her about finding Nira on the battlefield and not being able to leave her. Two people from two completely different kingdoms who would never have crossed paths if it hadn’t been for the world going to shit.

But both of them were fierce females. Strong and determined, and it wasn’t much of a surprise at all that they’d found each other. That they belonged together.

“And Seth?” she asked.

“Seth is . . . reserved,” Ven replied. “He sees and feels much more than the rest of us.” His voice trailed off as if he’d said too much.

“What do you mean?”

“Fate gifted him with premonitions,” he said quietly, thoughtfully. “Although, I’ve known him long enough to know it is not a gift. Not truly.” He paused. “I fear that he has not let himself truly love or be loved because of what he has lost. If he gave his heart to someone only to witness their death . . . I think he sees the way his twin loves Embra and it terrifies him.”

She was silent for a moment.

What must it be like to know of things that had not come to pass—an advantage for a kingdom at war . . . But did he also see the losses before they happened?

Maybe it wasn’t a gift after all.

Seth was kind, loyal, smart. The Unnamed knew he was beautiful. But there was an unspoken hurt that seemed to linger in his eyes, and she wondered if someone might be able to chase it away one day. If anyone deserved happiness, it was him.

“And you?” she asked.

“Me?”

“I’m sure you haven’t lacked companionship,” she teased, already hating herself for asking. She was desperately curious, but something inside of her couldn’t quite bear to hear the answer.

“I was always an outsider. Thankfully I had Karro, and later Seth and Nira. But growing up as a child of both kingdoms was not an easy thing. The other young males couldn’t decide if they should befriend me or throw me off the Ledge, and the females weren’t sure whether they should fear me or, well . . .” He gave another shrug, his lips curving into a smirk.

A flare of unwarranted jealousy prickled her nerves, but she could understand what he meant. There was much of that she had felt, herself, growing up. Being the daughter of a Councilor had painted a target on her back. The other young ladies at court only saw her as competition, and she could never be certain if the attention of the young men had been genuine or only because they knew it would pave a gilded path for their own futures.

Ven let out a sigh. “Nothing lasted very long, and honestly I preferred it that way.”

There is no future for us.

The thought sluiced ice water down her spine, and she cut it off before it had a chance to lodge itself there. Turning to face the rough wall of the cave, she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to shake off the cold.

Soft rustling sounded behind her, and a moment later a heavy warmth draped over her body.

“If your teeth chatter any harder, neither of us will get any sleep.” Ven’s hard chest pressed into her back, his arm wrapped around her waist as she fought against the heat that flooded her body as he tucked her against himself.

Trying to think of anything to take her mind off of how he felt, how perfectly she molded into his body, she grumbled, “Won’t Karro be jealous?”

Amusement rumbled through his voice as he replied, “Definitely. But you don’t seem like one to snore and you certainly smell better, so I think he’ll understand my reasoning.”

Stifling a yawn, she turned the subject back to safer territory. Trying to ignore the heat that radiated from him. The dizzying closeness of him. “Tell me more about the wisps.”

“I haven’t seen one in centuries . . .” he said softly. But the deep resonance of his voice became blurred and watery as she drifted into sleep.