CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
27
Elara
“I can’t believe brother shed blood...” Aric’s voice was a low growl, barely audible over the hiss of the Vimic heirloom jug as I poured the crimson liquid into his small cup. He held it with a tremor, his hand slightly too high, just out of reach for my hungry gaze.
This artificial blood, a concoction known to be alluring to my kind, held a dangerous temptation. Even with my hybrid blood, the urge to taste, even just a sip, was a constant battle.
Years of struggle, years Mom wouldn’t even believe.
Her position on the council of elders (witches) had secured a potion to suppress my thirst, but I’d also developed my own, a secret spell that kept the cravings at bay. As long as I maintained the ritual, Mom remained blissfully unaware, and I plan to keep it that way. The thought of her wrath if she discovered the truth sent a shiver down my spine.
Now, with the damn fucking power restricting bangles Mom had clamped onto my wrist, the fight for control felt even more desperate. Screw you, Mom.
With a sigh, I finally managed to quell the urge to snatch the vial of artificial blood from Aric’s outstretched hand.
Resisting the temptation to indulge in its crimson allure was becoming a daily struggle, especially with his brothers’ arrival.
Apparently, it was the annual gathering of the Princes of Sin, excluding Lord Draven, who preferred solitude.
These gatherings, I gathered, were more than just family reunions. They were indulgences in the most decadent sense, fueled by the blood of their servants. Bound by a truce, they refrained from human blood unless it was offered as a consequence of sin.
But with a scarcity of vampires and an abundance of human servants, the line between indulgence and transgression often blurred.
“...And yet he doesn’t want us to drink human blood,” Aric grumbled, his complaint a familiar annoyance. Part of working for him meant enduring his whining. Normally, I wouldn’t be found lugging the heirloom jug around, pouring artificial blood for him and his brothers. He had other servants for that. But here I was, thanks to my mother’s latest punishment.
She’d decided to get tough, and that apparently included me acting like a servant.
Even though I was a servant, I did receive special treatment.
My mother, a powerful witch and member of the council, saw to that.
And then there was my “little” connection to Lord Draven. We talked, occasionally, but it wasn’t much.
Aric, on the other hand, showered me with wealth, even though I didn’t need it.
So, yes, I received special treatment. Sometimes. Until my mother decided otherwise. And screw her again for that.
I offered a small, hesitant nod, unsure of how to respond. I thought his comments were directed at his brothers since they were present.
Heavens know I loathed these gatherings, where the Princes of Sin indulged in their macabre rituals with my mother under the guise of supervision. My only solace was distance, especially from... a sigh escaped my lips Xul.
Aric drained the cup of artificial blood in a single, forceful gulp. As I poured him another, he snatched the Vimic heirloom jug from my grasp, refilling his cup with a practiced hand. “Now tell me, is that fair?” he questioned, his gaze suddenly fixed on me. I thought he was addressing his brothers, not me, but his eyes bore into mine. I gave a small shake of my head, indicating ‘no.’
The princes of sin, especially Aric, are obsessed with Lord Draven’s recent actions.
The news of Lord Draven’s gruesome act – the slaughter of twenty humans, their blood drained to the last drop – had spread like wildfire through the estate. Walls, it seemed, had ears.
Aric, ever the volatile one, wouldn’t tolerate unanswered questions.
Despite my silent response, he continued to stare, his gaze holding mine for an agonizing moment. Aric was impatient for my response. Though I had already nodded, I wasn’t sure if he had seen it. I decided to repeat the gesture, hoping it would convey my answer.
Aric set the heirloom jug on the table. I snatched it up, my mind already racing. He cradled his porcelain cup, delaying his first sip. He wasn’t full, I knew that. He was simply lost in thought, as he often was.
Undeterred, I continued my task, pouring the artificial blood into each prince’s cup in turn.
Perhaps, if I played my cards right, I could slip away before their orgy began.
Of course, I still had to seek permission from each prince. Not through words, mind you, for I had no desire to speak. A simple lift of the jug served as our unspoken conversation. If they desired more, I’d move on. If not, I’d repeat the silent exchange with the next prince, until all seven princes of sin were served.
Silence reigned over the long, wide table. Only the gentle clinking of porcelain and the rhythmic pour of the jug filled the air. It was a welcome quiet, a stark contrast to my inner turmoil. I longed for this task to be over, dreading the moment Aric would shatter the stillness.
And then, as if on cue, he spoke. “You’re awfully quiet, Elara,” he said, his voice laced with slick amusement. Of course, the conversation had to turn to me. Aric knew me well, my usual chatter and playful nature. My current serenity, though far from calm, must have surprised him.
“Say something,” he pressed, a hint of impatience in his tone. “Anything!”
I paused, taking a deep breath before continuing my task.
“Um... well. Maybe there’s more to the story,” I began, straightening my spine. “Lord Draven wouldn’t simply take a life without reason. Perhaps, just perhaps, there’s a justification for his actions.”
Aric scoffed. “Oh, please...”
“Lord Draven isn’t known for taking life without cause,” I continued, my voice calm and measured. “It’s possible, even likely, that there’s a justification for his actions.”
“...and for drinking their blood?” Aric interjected, finally lifting his cup to his lips. He took a sip, then paused, his gaze distant. “Sometimes, I crave the real thing, not the synthetic concoction those witches keep delivering. Real blood represents power, strength...” He directed his words to his brothers. “And yet, our brother is the only one who denies us these things. He wants us to be weak, while he himself remains strong.”
Aric’s hunger for human blood was palpable. I felt compelled to intervene. “That’s why we’re bound by a truce,” I explained. “It’s not meant to be broken unless a human initiates the transgression. Perhaps that’s what transpired with Lord Draven. One of his servants might have betrayed him, stolen from him, or attempted to poison him. In such a case, killing them would be justified, a way to uphold the truce. So, I believe, is what happened in Lord Draven’s case.”
My words seemed to have a calming effect on Aric, momentarily quelling his bloodlust. But I wasn’t finished yet.
“For example,” I continued, “if one of your human servants betrayed you, Prince Aric, or stole from you, or tried to harm you, you would have the right to retaliate. It’s the only way to uphold the truce. And I believe that’s what transpired in Lord Draven’s situation.
My reasoning proved sufficient to ease Aric’s agitation and deter him from his violent impulses.
Prince Aric’s chest rose and fell in a sigh. “I guess you’re right, Elara,” he conceded, a touch of annoyance in his voice. Aric hated being wrong, always striving for the upper hand in any conversation. “But do you have to be right all the time?” he grumbled, clenching his jaw.
He sank back into his gargoyle throne chair, similar to those of the Princes of Sin, and drained the last of his drink before setting the cup down with a soft thud. “Well, since you always have to be perpetually right, Elara, I’m bored.” he drawled as he ran his tongue across his lips, leaving a glistening trail of liquid. “Tell me something funny, like you always do. Be my jester, Elara. Make me forget this vampire thirst. I need something, anything, to take the edge off.”
He paused, waiting for my usual witty retort. When it didn’t come, his voice rose a notch. “Or,” he suggested, “you could cast some amusing spells to entertain me and my gnawing thoughts.” Unlike my mother, he at least appreciated my powers.
“Well, Prince Aric, I would love to, but right now I’m currently...” I trailed off, raising my right hand. The bangles on my wrist glowed an unnatural green, a stark contrast to their usual crimson. My mother had yet to explain the change, but I held my wrist up for Aric’s lazy inspection. He blinked twice, confused, as if he’d understand the intricacies of my magic. I scoffed inwardly.
“What’s that?” he finally asked.
“These are ‘power restriction bangles,’“ I explained, casting a sidelong glance at my mother, who stood rigidly behind Aric’s throne. “My mother, here,” I continued, emphasizing the word, “placed them on me, rendering me… well, stuck.” I added, stretching the truth.
Taking a deep breath, I locked eyes with my mother. “But I could still perform a few entertaining spells, as long as my dear mother decides to remove these ban—”
“No!” my mother snapped, cutting me off before I could finish. Her gaze darted away from me.
“Why?” I demanded, my voice edged with annoyance. Prince Aric always enjoys my spellcasting, but apparently, Mother doesn’t share his enthusiasm. The urge to throw a tantrum was strong, but I knew Mother would only use it as another reason to punish me. And as usual, Mom wanted to handle the situation.
“Why can’t Elara use her powers to entertain me?” Aric finally addressed Mother. You ask her, my prince.
“Well, you see,” Mother began, “weeks ago, Elara used her magic to disrupt your important feast and ritual. She was careless, and I promised Lord Draven I would punish her for it.”
Aric bristled at the mention of his brother, clearly not fond of him. “But my brother isn’t here, so Elara should use her powers...”
My heart soared. Finally, an end to my elaborate schemes to speak with Xul, my... ex. I shot Mother a triumphant look, but it did not please her.
“It’s not just Lord Draven I promised; I also promised you and Prince Cassian,” she said, her gaze shifting to Viktor instead of Cassian, who maintained his usual stoic demeanor, though not as severe as Xul’s. I couldn’t help but notice his gaze lingering on me, those eyes likely harboring dangerous thoughts. Heavens knew what schemes he brewed in their depths.
“Yes. Emilia must fulfill her promise to ensure Elara faces the consequences of her sins,” Viktor stated, his words grating on my nerves. Who called him into this!
“Sins?” I muttered under my breath, adding a silent “fuck him” for good measure. He was just as annoying as Mother.
“You see,” Mother said, her voice firm. “you can’t expect me to go against Prince Viktor. You, my prince, and the Princes of sin.”
Aric drew in a breath, his voice tight. “Very well...”
I almost blurted out, “Urrh, what?” but thankfully, it died in my throat. Viktor’s glare was icy, no doubt because because Lord Draven had undoubtedly spared me and Morwenna, and I knew Viktor he doesn’t look too happy with me. Thank heavens for Morwenna, though. Without her, my punishment would have been death, or perhaps something worse.
“So, how am I supposed to entertain Prince Aric now, Mom?” I asked, a touch of annoyance lacing my words.
“As Elara is still serving her punishment, I’ll entertain Prince Aric,” Mom replied, almost making me scoff. What spells did she know that could tame Aric’s mood? As the Prince of Lust, he required a specific type of entertainment spell, not just any random incantation Mother uses all the time.
“But you barely know any entertainment spells, especially what he likes,” I blurted, intentionally.
“Of course I do,” Mom said confidently, her hands settling on Aric’s shoulders as she began to massage them. Really? Mom knew Aric had a thing for her, and with her trying to massage his shoulders, it was sure to turn him on. And it seemed to work, judging by his next words.
“I don’t mind Emilia entertaining me,” Aric said, a statement that almost made me roll my eyes internally. Unbelievable. I just wanted to disappear at that point. Of course, Prince Aric would want to switch from me to Mom. Typical.
“But—” I stammered, attempting another protest.
Viktor’s gaze hardened. “Are you trying to complain to avoid your punishment, Elara...?”
His gaze was heavy, and I looked away, feeling a prickle of unease. “No way,” I mumbled resigning myself to Viktor’s words. “I can’t avoid being punished. It’s not like I know anyone here who can free me from this punishment and these...” I trailed off, gesturing to the bangles. I was probably thinking of Xul. Would he please stop looking at me? I was growing uneasy.
Everything resumed as if I hadn’t spoken. Mom continues to press Aric’s shoulders sweetly. Gross.
“Let’s spice this up, Aric,” a voice said.
“How spice up?” questioned Aric, still enjoying my mother’s touch.
Cassian, the Prince of Sloth, drawled, “I need to fuck someone. If I can’t have blood like Draven, I need to quench my thirst with my dick.” His words hung heavy in the air, unnecessary and unwelcome.
Aric chuckled, almost jokingly. “And who will be our target?” His question was barely out of his mouth when a Chimeran servant walked by, head bowed.
Cassian pointed a finger. “You.” He then amended his statement, gesturing to four more Chimerans who had just crossed the room. “All of you.”
With a grim obedience, the five servants approached the round table where the Princes of Sin sat, stopping just short.
“Bow before your princes!” Vorax, the Prince of Gluttony, bellowed. The servants scrambled to kneel, their heads bowed. The Princes - Vorax, Malek, Rafael, and Cassian - erupted in laughter as if they wanted to devour the servants at any moment. Nothing surprising there. All I wanted to do right now was slip away. Disappear. But how could I escape this?
Cassian, ever the hedonist, rose from his seat and sauntered towards the human servants, his gaze lingering on each of the five women. He then returned his attention to Aric, who was still enjoying my mother’s ministrations. Still gross.
“If you don’t mind, brother, but I’d like to borrow one of your servants here to quench my thirst...” By thirst? He was going to start sucking blood, and blood was something I was trying to resist. I know Cassian is someone who doesn’t know how to resist his urge like the rest of his brothers.
“Hmm... which one?” Aric questioned.
Cassian’s gaze went back to scrutinize each of the five servants. “I like the brownie-haired one better,” Cassian replied as he walked nearer to them. With a touch, he lifted the chin of one of the Chimeran servants who was on her knees. She rose up in obedience, and Cassian dug his finger in her jawline before positioning his words back at Aric. “I would like for this one to be the one riding my dick...”
Aric, on the other hand, just took a normal, casual glance at the servant and then back at Cassian. “Do whatever you want, Cas!”
With Aric’s blessing, a wide smile spread across Cassian’s face. It was no surprise that the brothers of sin liked to share their servants, especially for… sex.
I knew where this was heading: Cassian was going to get a full blowjob from this servant, who was now his target, and he was going to take her blood. I just hoped he wouldn’t drain her completely.
When I finally looked up at the servant who had become Cassian’s target, surprise slammed into me. Brown hair, light green eyes, and her face... it looked so familiar. She was Morwenna’s freaking sister, Theresa. What? She was going to be Cassian’s plaything now? My head spun. Why? Because Theresa was Morwenna’s older sister, and I knew if Morwenna were here, she’d try to stop this.
The heavens, it seemed, took perverse pleasure in toying with me. Just when I’d resolved to leave, the thought was shattered by the sight of Cassian preparing to draw Theresa’s blood. I couldn’t just stand by and watch. “No,” I whispered, the word a desperate mantra repeating in my mind. “There has to be another way.”
I must do something, I repeated to again to myself like a mantra. I must do something. But what am I going to do? Nothing? No, something. I must do something.
Cassian’s voice, a low, guttural whisper, sent a shiver down my spine. “You smell delicious, human,” he breathed to Theresa, the words almost making me gag. “So delicious!” He reached out, his fingers snagging in her hair, yanking her closer. It was then, with a sickening certainty, that I knew I had to intervene.
Trouble. It was a foreboding word, heavy with potential disaster. Cassian’s surprise was fleeting. “What are you doing?” he questioned, his gaze unwavering yet annoyed.
“You can’t...” I swallowed, locking eyes with him. He looked hungry, and a shiver of fear ran down my spine. I knew what he wanted, and I knew the consequences of getting involved with a ravenous vampire. Trouble. Big, bad trouble.
I glanced at Mom, who gave me a look that screamed, “What the hell are you doing?” Probably a scolding look, but I knew better than to heed it. That’s why I ignored it. I could feel all the Princes of sin gazing at me, especially Xul—always calm, quiet, and unnervingly dangerous. I blinked, breaking the eye contact with Xul.
Blinking away the intensity of our locked gazes, I addressed Cassian. “What I mean to say is that blood isn’t always the answer. There are other ways to quench one’s hunger without resorting to... um...” Sex. I didn’t say it, but Cassian knew what I was implying.
“It’s a time of indulgence,” Cassian declared, impatience lacing his words. “And I’m indulging now. Step aside, Elara.”
“But it doesn’t have to be her,” I countered, gesturing towards Theresa. “Can’t you skip this one?”
He scoffed, mimicking my words. “Skip? You want me to fucking skip?” I offered no response, and he growled, “Step aside!”
“But we’re in a truce; we don’t take blood,” I tried to reason.
He snorted. “You have no authority to tell me what to do.” Of course not. Even if I did, he wouldn’t listen. Theresa, on the other hand, seemed resigned to her fate, unsurprised by the turn of events.
“But it’s not right,” I insisted, my voice firming. My hand tightened around the heirloom ceramic jug, a silent anchor in the tense situation. My unexpected authority seemed to strike a nerve. Cassian abruptly released Theresa’s hair, shoving her aside before wiping his forehead with a frustrated hand.
He was furious. Very furious. He’d been the one to dismiss my authority, yet now, when I spoke with conviction, it was him who bristled.
His eyes reflected back the anger simmering within.
He parroted my words, his voice laced with annoyance and a predatory hunger. “Not right?! Okay, Ms. I-like-to-follow-the-vampires-laws, if you think it’s not right, then take her place. Let me fuck you instead.”
Well, that’s not what I meant.
His words were laced with a challenge, a dare that crossed a line I hadn’t intended to step over.
As Cassian spoke, Vorax and Malek both cleared their throats subtly, as if trying to nudge him towards a different approach. He caught on, his gaze flickering to Xul’s stoic face before he inhaled deeply, his lips pressed tight. “My apologies, brother Xul,” he said, a touch of regret in his voice. “Sometimes I forget that you and Elara had... a past.” His eyes met mine again. “Consider yourself fortunate, Elara. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I would prefer you leave and cease your interference.”
His attempt at calmness felt transparent. While I should be grateful that my past with Xul had supposedly granted me an escape from the tedium of Cassian’s company, the truth was, Xul and I were ancient history, and I couldn’t simply stand by and do nothing. Cassian’s eyes met Theresa’s as she returned to his side, his hand finding its way to rest on her neck.
I swallowed, attempting to speak, “You shouldn’t—” The urgency of the situation cut my sentence short.
“Elara,” Cassian interrupted, his voice laced with growing impatience, “Stay in your lane!”
“But—” I began to protest, only to be silenced by...
“Elara!” Xul’s voice, deep and gravelly, sliced through my defenses like a blade. The words I was about to speak died on my lips. He could save me, but I knew it wouldn’t be forever. I faltered for a moment, the mere sound of my name implying more than just a call to attention. He wanted me to stop, to cease interfering with Cassian’s actions. He knew, however, that I wasn’t one to back down easily.
Should I obey? The question gnawed at me. He wasn’t my master anymore. We weren’t together, and I didn’t work for him or under him. Only Aric Vimic held that power, and even him I only listened to “sometimes.”
Fueled by a desire to annoy Cassian and perhaps halt his indulgence, I pushed my luck. That’s when Xul decided to act. He didn’t speak, instead using his fingernail to tap the rim of the porcelain cup, the sound amplified by his magic to ensure my attention.
Technically, I backed him, not wanting to face him or his gaze. Yet, when he finally caught my attention with that simple tap, I understood his unspoken request: blood. Artificial blood, specifically, from the Vimic heirloom jug I clutched.
With tightened lips, I reluctantly turned. He was the only one who hadn’t demanded the artificial blood for his cup. His reasons? I didn’t care to know. As our eyes met, I nearly looked away. I couldn’t bear to gaze into those raven eyes. My plan to stop Cassian and Theresa had failed. I’d failed Morwenna, especially.
With a heavy heart, I approached Xul, already hearing the sound of Cassian’s lips meeting Theresa’s. I did nothing to stop it. At that point, I felt utterly useless.
But I wouldn’t call myself that. I had tried, at least. I had managed.
Maintaining my distance, I balanced the jug and poured a single drop. Then, I paused. “Do you want it filled to the brim or just medium?”
I’d said I wouldn’t talk to him, that I’d simply pour and leave. But plans change, and mine often did.
Silence.
Xul remained silent, his delay in responding a frustrating anchor keeping me tethered to this room.
Cassian’s moans grew louder, a sickening counterpoint to the scene unfolding before me. He was likely at it already, his fangs buried deep in Theresa’s flesh. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself not to look. I shouldn’t look. I couldn’t look.
Back to the present, did Xul even hear me? I cursed myself for speaking, knowing Xul’s keen senses wouldn’t miss a word. So I decided to repeat myself, “Do you wan—”
“In between,” he replied curtly, finally acknowledging my question. So he had heard me. I gave no reply as I steadied my hand and began to pour carefully into the porcelain cup, the moans in the background a sickening counterpoint to my actions.
“You’re not going to do anything?” I blurted out, my voice barely audible. I shouldn’t have said that, and I hoped Xul didn’t hear it, though nothing escaped his ears.
“Why should I?” he rumbled, a low, gravelly response.
“You’re the most respected here,” I retorted, my voice laced with exasperation. “And you’re just going to watch your brother drain blood from a Chimeran?”
“If Draven could do it, why can’t they?” Xul countered, his voice dripping with a characteristic challenge. One thing about Xul—he always answered my questions with questions.
Of course, they were trying to emulate what Lord Draven had done. I just hoped Morwenna was okay, as she was also one of Lord Draven’s servants. “There’s a truce in place,” I reminded him, my voice tight with frustration. “Draining human servants is forbidden.” I tried to reason, even though he annoyed me immensely.
“Who said I was?” he retorted, a question that effectively silenced me. I had given up on trying to reason with him. With a practiced hand, I turned the liquid in his cup to its minimum content, carefully placing the jug back on the table.
“You’re all unbelievable,” I muttered, unsurprised by his reaction. “I think I’m done here.”
Xul didn’t even touch the altered drink. “And stop trying to involve yourself with whatever my brothers do,” he said, his voice gruff as if he grudgingly forced the words out.
“Oh, I wish I could listen to you,” I replied sarcastically, “but I remember I don’t work for you, so no, I won’t.”
“Just because you work for my little brother doesn’t mean you’re not bound to follow me and my rules!” he bellowed, the disdain in his voice as he referred to Aric as “little brother” was palpable. Aric might fear him, but Xul’s words wouldn’t sway me.
“I don’t follow you,” I began, “nor will I follow your rules, so—”
“Shut up, Elara!” he roared, cutting off my defiance. Did he just tell me to shut up?
“No, you shut up,” I retorted, my voice rising despite my efforts to keep it down. “I will never follow you or your rules!”
“Then I guess that changes now...” Xul said, rising to his feet. My stomach clenched. While I shouldn’t be overly concerned with Xul’s actions, his sudden rise and the way everyone’s eyes turned to him sent a shiver down my spine.
Cassian, even in the throes of receiving oral pleasure from Theresa, had to pause. Though not entirely, as Theresa remained on her knees, diligently working on his balls. Fuck.
Oh, dear Lord, I shouldn’t even be privy to this.
But Xul was clearly demanding attention, and I feared I might be the unwitting catalyst. My only plan now: run, leave, hide.
My fingers twitched, the urge to retreat overwhelming.
Two steps back, then another, and another.
Escape was my only thought, my desperate plan to flee this maddening scene.
But as I attempted to execute this strategy, Xul’s voice snagged me like a barbed hook.
“Elara!” He always had to say my name with such force, a thunderous boom that resonated through my very core. His voice carried the raw power of a storm, and my chest tightened in response.
Xul’s attention was solely focused on his brothers, and I did everything in my power to avert my gaze. Cassian was caught in a compromising position, my mother shamelessly rubbing Aric’s chest, and one of the Brothers of Sin, Rafael, had his fangs buried in the thigh of a Chimeran servant, draining their blood. All I could do was maintain my distance, still wondering how Xul could resist the allure in the room.
His voice still rumbled deep within me, forcing me to do the one thing my body despised: obey.
With Xul’s commanding presence, the other Brothers of Sin momentarily paused their activities to hear what he had to say.
But I, too, feared what Xul was about to say.
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
With a face carved from stone, Xul spoke, his voice devoid of warmth. “You all know me. My actions speak louder than words. And today, I intend to use those actions to demonstrate who truly holds the upper hand.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his dramatic pronouncement.
He continued, “One among us has defied the laws that bind us all under the Vimic’s banner. Not only that, but this servant has also dabbled in forbidden magic and left the estate without proper permission or invitation, thus breaking multiple laws. Therefore...” Xul trailed off, finally turning his head to acknowledge me at his side. He raised an eyebrow, as if seeking my tacit approval to deliver his next words with a touch of sarcasm. Even with his brief glance, all eyes turned to me. Thanks to him, I was now the unwelcome center of attention.
He resumed, “She shall be punished. She will not escape the consequences, nor...” His eyes darkened further, “my wrath.”
There was an undeniable personal edge to his words, and a murmur rippled through the assembly of brothers.
“Excuse me,” I interjected, my voice steady despite the rising tension. “I never left the Vimics’ estate without permission, nor did I perform any complex magic.” It was a lie, of course. I had used forbidden magic once, just once, and it had taken a terrible toll on me. “What you’re saying is simply untrue.”
“Really, Elara?” Xul’s voice was cold, his gaze holding mine captive. “So you’re not going to tell everyone, not even your own mother, that you left the Vimic estate without an invitation? Not from the council of elders, not from your own master? Or perhaps you did it for some magical reason, hmm?”
My breath caught in my throat. No one knew what I had done, not even Mom. The consequences would be severe, but I had vowed to keep my secret. Yet, it seemed one person, someone I never thought paid much attention, had discovered the truth. Xul. Had he been watching me all along?
“Are you going to deny it?” Xul pressed, his eyes narrowed.
Mom’s face tightened, a mix of worry and protectiveness. She seemed to be waiting for me to confess, to confirm or deny Xul’s accusations. But there was one rule: never lie, especially when it comes to Xul, one of the top three magic users and a member of the witches’ council. He would sniff out any lie in an instant.
I tucked my chin defensively, a shield against the storm brewing in Xul’s eyes. He’d demanded the truth, and lying wasn’t an option, especially not with him. “No,” I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. My mother gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. My gaze flickered to her, then back to Xul. “But I had a reason.”
“Well, you broke the rules, and it seems Lord Draven missed this one,” Xul said, his voice clipped.
“Should we tell brother what Emilia’s daughter did?” Vorax asked, a psychotic smirk playing on his lips. Viktor, at least, had the decency to remain silent, though a single nod betrayed his agreement.
“Draven has enough on his plate,” Xul replied dismissively.
“Then who’s going to handle the fallout from Emilia’s daughter’s actions?” Malek questioned. It was a constant irritation, being referred to as “Emilia’s daughter” when my name was Elara and they damn well knew it.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” Xul said, his expression unreadable.
Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. I exchanged a worried glance with Aric and my mother.
“And handling this case,” Xul continued, his voice low and dangerous, “means Elara must serve her punishment more... appropriately this time.”
A cold dread settled in my stomach. I knew where this was going. This was Xul’s twisted form of revenge.
“And that means Elara is to be banished from magic, spells, and—”
“You can’t fucking do that to me!” I snapped, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. It wasn’t my intention to explode, but the injustice of it all burned through me. “Magic is a part of me, who I am! And who are you to punish me? You’re probably just doing this because you’re weak and bitter!” I added, the sting of the words surprising even me.
Magic was my lifeblood, my passion. I wouldn’t stand by and watch Xul try to rip it away from me.
His eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flickering within. “Weak and bitter?” he echoed, his voice laced with a chilling darkness. “Then perhaps I haven’t been firm enough. Consider this a taste of my true wrath.” His voice was a low growl, his face contorting into a mask of something far more sinister. “Elara Vance, you are hereby banished!”