Chapter 28 #3
I had no intention of being bred. Certainly not in the next few hundred years. Telling her that wouldn’t be enough.
So I said, “I’ll make sure our offspring are aware that visiting any of the wards without a gift for you will guarantee your immense displeasure.”
“Immense.” She curled her fingers, claws clicking, and smiled. “I think we have ourselves an agreement, vampire queen.”
Shocked, I gaped at her—almost too afraid to believe it.
Then water sprayed as Brey was thrown from the lagoon, and I stumbled back onto my ass.
With a grunt, he tumbled across the sand. Reeds slithered from his body back into the lagoon. Coughing, Brey tried to get on his hands and knees. He failed and rolled onto his back, an arm over his eyes.
“Unmerciful Mother,” he wheezed.
Torn between wanting to make sure he was all right and needing to keep an eye on the mercurial Lovaila, I crawled backward to his side while he caught his breath.
Croaked, he declared, “Never again will I swim.”
A smile twitched my lips. Looking across the lagoon, I held it at bay. “Lovaila and I have reached an agreement.”
Brey shifted his arm to glare at me. “Will this agreement incite my eternal, blistering, and unwavering rage?”
He was just fine, then.
Fighting another smile, I climbed to my feet.
“Your wife has promised to bring me a surprise next time you visit.” Lovaila dragged a clawed nail down my father’s chest, slicing open his shirt. “And I get to keep this tasty treat.”
Brey rose with that catlike grace. Disbelief tightened his features. Pushing his dripping hair from his face, he looked at my suspended father, the vampires who were now a semicircle of flames hugging the lagoon, then at me.
A series of rapid blinks and a shake of his head sent beads of water sluicing down his cheeks. “You’re certain?”
“It’s honestly perfect. We cannot kill Aphylus without my mother dying, and he cannot try to overthrow us if he’s stuck here.”
Brey’s dark brows furrowed. “What if Lovaila kills him?”
I smiled at the mermonster. “Then a surprise she will certainly get.”
“A nasty one,” Lovaila said with a feigned shiver.
I raised my brows at Brey.
He continued to furrow his at me. After some moments, he swiped the droplets from his face and hid a smile with his hand. “Let us be on our way then, lethal.”
We waded across the sand toward the shallow portion of the lagoon.
Lovaila tutted. “That’s my trap.”
Brey grinned. “We thought you were the trap.”
Lovaila tickled my father’s stomach until he writhed so much, I thought the reeds would certainly snap. “Sometimes I am busy.”
I rolled my lips between my teeth to keep from snorting and followed Brey past the flaming vampires to the other side of the lagoon.
Again, Lovaila tutted. “There lies another trap.”
I sighed. “Is there any safe place to cross?”
She ceased torturing my father. “Yes.” Those dark eyes assessed the water. Her face creased further, easing when she stabbed a clawed finger eight feet from where we stood. “I think there.”
“You think?” I asked.
Exasperated, she hissed, then growled, “It all looks different up here.”
Heading to where she’d pointed, I asked Brey, “Did you see anything while you were…?”
“Drowning?” A slight smirk, and he shook his head. “Too murky.”
We stopped before the lagoon. Brey unsheathed his thin blade, and with his other hand, he led me into the water.
It reached my chin before our feet encountered the gradual slope of the sandbank where Lovaila sat. As we emerged, the energy of the ward enveloped, and I briefly wondered if she could feel it—and how she couldn’t when it was so thick.
Water cascaded from our clothing, boots squelching as we left the wet sand for the dry and finally arrived at the crumbling stone well. On the other side of it, Lovaila continued to play with my groaning and swaying father.
Brey cut his palm, but we weren’t safe yet. So I kept my eyes on the mercreature. Unable to resist, I looked at him one last time.
The father I’d feared.
The lord who came to this isle with a portion of his made army to kill his own daughter.
The born vampire who was now bound in reeds and at the mercy of a creature who would show him what it was to be afraid.
Brey took my hand and dragged his blade over my lifeline. I barely felt the sting.
I waited for it—guilt or at least some semblance of it.
But even as Brey clasped our hands and squeezed, even as our blood flowed into the dark well, there was only shame for failing to feel so much as a crumb of guilt.
Maybe Aphylus Blueburn only had himself to blame for his fate.
Maybe I was a villain.
Maybe both things were true. After all, I was what he’d made. For although I was born, I’d been nothing but another creation to use as he saw fit. A jewel from his blood-soaked trove, awaiting the most opportune moment to shine.
“Do not forget, Majesties.”
“Lovaila,” drawled Brey. “We couldn’t if we tried.”
The mermonster laughed.
Breath tight in my chest, I looked back at the well. I willed each drip of our blood to slow.
When they finally did, darkness rose and shadowed the cloudless sky. I welcomed its lung-cinching embrace with a smile that stayed as my father’s muffled cries followed us down into the well.