Chapter 20
Chapter
Twenty
Titus
My lungs shudder as the massive doors slide shut. I’ve never been so out of my element. This guy’s hands are so smooth they look like butter. What the heck is he wearing? His purple velvet suit looks more suited for an armchair.
War’s requiem is blocked by the castle walls, allowing them to dance like nothing matters. The insult coats my tongue with a sour tang.
I peer at their knees. Have they felt the weight of blood-soaked armor? Of course they haven’t.
The fragrance of the roses in the vases along the walls gives an odd illusion of tranquility.
My chin tips up toward the massive stained-glass windows, making the war room feel like a place of worship.
Reds and blacks paint a scheme of the landscape of Blackthorn.
The vaulted ceilings allow for plenty of nooks for the light to slip into.
The scent of fresh blood in the air has my hand resting on my sword. There! Every pitcher on the large table is full of blood. The smooth, deep red silken surface, filled to the brim, draws my eyes.
My fangs throb, but I’ve long controlled the need to drink in excess.
I stand back as they all clamor towards the table. What about rations and a proper blood diet? We’re taught as kids about overconsumption, which leads to bloodlust.
Consuming too much human blood doesn’t strengthen your magic. It gives you a sense of pseudo-strength. It’s an addictive high.
It seems the nobles were handed different books. Binge all you want; we’ll rehab you and make you fit as new again.
Galen saunters over to the only chair—it’s more of a throne, really.
The trunk of a tree was gutted, hollowed, and then carved into a chair.
The back of it curls up into braided vines with fresh black roses.
I follow the others as we stand around the table.
They’re comfortable as they grab goblets and gulp down their fill.
The hairs on the back of my neck raise. That one has air magic; a fresh scent of air circulates around him. The vampire next to me must have water; the air feels more humid.
“Lieutenant Ferdinand, tell me—” The door swings open, and Galen hesitates with insult.
“I apologize. I was late in getting word from the scouts.” The man stands tall with a note in hand.
Fuck!
It’s Griffen’s father. Everett’s spy/friend/I-don’t-know-what-the-fuck-to-call-him.
He’s not a random soldier if he’s here. And he just interrupted King Galen’s meeting without much concern.
“Vice Admiral Adrian,” Galen guides his crown to fit more snugly. “I would call upon you next. What news have you?” he inquires.
Vice Admiral Adrian Airendale! He’s in charge of Galen’s whole damn army! Gods!
Of course, I know his name. I’ve never met him, but stories about him rushing to battle, laying siege as if death itself could not claim him, are endless. He’s so valuable, King Galen ordered him back to Blackthorn, no longer allowed to fight on the field.
If Galen lost Adrian, he’d be fucked. Adrian knows how others think, where they will attack or retreat. He’s a mastermind.
“I have troubling news.” Adrian hands Galen the note. His eyes lock onto me and lighten, the only sign he’s a friend not a foe. He refrains from drinking, adhering to the warriors’ dietary habits.
“Troubles are nothing more than morning gossip.” Galen smirks. “Go ahead, enlighten us with your tales.” He drops the letter, not bothering to read it.
Adrian must be used to the insults, for he doesn’t flinch. “We found another body.”
“Not this again.” Galen rolls his eyes. “I don’t care about bodies; they offer me no value, Adrian.”
“A body of the creature, not its victim.”
I look from noble to noble; some wear ignorance, like Galen, while others pale.
If I’m part of this council, I intend to use my voice. I clear my throat. “What creature?”
“I apologize, General Titus, for this is a nuisance you must now endure.” Galen waves his hand at Adrian to continue, but the gesture is akin to swatting a fly.
“Nuisances, if not dealt with, can steal crowns, Galen,” Adrian responds, purposely forgoing the title of king.
Galen touches his crown again. Adrian’s disregard for decorum clearly vexes him.
The king’s spine presses into his chair for protection. “Let them try.” He mocks the looming threat of battle, comparing it to mere pages of a story, not real horrors.
I run my tongue over my fangs.
“This is nothing more than mage magic. Shadows and light molded into the silhouette of flesh,” Galen adds. “Mages have tried to merge their magic with creatures before; the fools never learn. They are as stubborn and persistent as humans.”
“Mage magic or not, these creatures are strong. One can take out four vampires and over two dozen humans.” Adrian’s eyes hold mine.
“I told you,” Galen grabs his goblet, smirking at his reflection in the glass, “let some other kingdom deal with this. I have enough to worry about.”
“I have brought the body of the creature here and a witness,” Adrian states.
The room erupts with cries of excitement. I keep my features carefully blank.
“I want to see!”
“I don’t!”
“Come on, let’s see.”
The ceiling captures Galen’s unfocused attention. The cost of such a sheer scale of artwork could feed a town for a year. I don’t know what’s grander, the art or the white-gold gilded frames that are fighting for the viewers’ affection.
It’s so overwhelming I look down at my worn clothing to remind me what the reality of the majority of the people in this kingdom face.
“Let’s see this body and interrogate the witness,” Galen groans.
“The witness is just a child.”
“I do not care. Bring them.”
Adrian hesitates, then lifts a shoulder. Air draws in, followed by a shrug, causing more air to hit the entrance. The soldiers outside open at his signal. “Bring them,” Adrian orders.
“This had better be worth my time, Adrian,” the king says snidely.
“I trust my king knows what holds value when it comes to protecting his people,” Adrian retorts.
Moments later, four men appear, carrying what appears to be the small shape of a body covered in tattered blankets.
Why are there no bloodstains?
Wait, if this beast is dead, where is the smell of rotting flesh? I smell… nothing.
The men make to toss the sack on the table, but Galen shouts, “Not on my table, you fools! There, on the floor will do.”
We all move around for a better view; Galen sits as he watches.
They drop the sack. “Why was there no sound?” I wonder, furrowing my brows.
“These creatures have weight, but they make no sound. That’s how they are so successful in ambushing. I am told that when they grab a hold of their prey, the victim can make no sound either,” Adrian informs me. “Gossip has reveal they are called Shades.”
“Do not give them a name, Adrian,” Galen barks.
Adrian dips his chin, then motions for his men to remove the cloth. Some nobles gasp. Others stand dumbfounded, like me. Air presses into the metal of my sword as I unsheathe it a few inches.
I lean closer to study it. It’s just shadows, lumped and grouped into the shape of a figure that resembles a human form. It should not exist, yet it’s before my eyes, like waves tucking into ocean waters. No longer moving, but you feel their strength and know any second they can rise again.
“It looks like a shadow,” one of the nobles claims.
Galen moves for the first time, planting his elbow on his knee. “You,” he points to the noble wearing the purple velvet, “touch it.”
“Touch?” The man shudders and fearfully stumbles forward.
“I’ll do it.” I step forward. I don’t want to, but this man is about to piss himself.
“Look! That is why we won the war. Brave men,” Galen speaks. “Come, Titus, prince slayer.” He waves me over.
Adrian subconsciously steps closer. Is he worried?
Gods help me. The closer I get to this… thing, the more the air shifts. “The air is colder near it. That is a sign we can use if one lurks nearby.”
“Very wise observation, General.” Adrian widens his chest.
“Yes, yes, now, go on,” Galen huffs.
This is a different version of Galen. I’m so used to the showmen, the friendly king who woos the crowd as he holds feasts and parties. This version is just a spoiled brat who would rather be fucking a line of women than defending his empire.
Slowly, I bend down; I expect my fingers to slip right through it, but instead, I hit a form that feels hard yet moldable. “How was it killed?” I ask.
“They kept stabbing it. I surmise one of the cuts must’ve hit its heart, but as you can see, it remains solid. It does not tear open, nor bleed, yet it can be killed when the correct spot is struck.”
“That’s enough touching, Titus. When was the last time you fucked a woman? I’m worried,” Galen jokes, and the room laughs, except Adrian.
“It’s hard to find a woman when you’re readying for battle, King,” I bite. I cast my gaze downward, too ill to view the individual I slew for.
“That’s the best time to search for pussy.”
My jaw ticks.
“Make sure you bed someone soon. You caused me concern that you would request seclusion with the beast.”
More laughs.
Would he mind if I used the sword he gifted me to kill him? Right here, right now?
“Where is this witness?” Galen shouts.
Two more guards usher in a girl, perhaps eight years of age. Her feet are bare, covered in dirt and blood. Her clothing is in the same terrible state.
“She’s a human,” Adrian states by way of explanation. “Her family lived in Noria; they were killed on the premises with all the other humans and vampires.”
“Come here, child.” Galen orders. She takes one step before Galen says, “That’s far enough.” He sneers down at her rags for clothing. It was a test to see if she’d obey him.
Adrian and I exchanged a glance of disillusion.
“Tell me what happened,” Galen orders in a cold, authoritative voice.
She steps closer to the creature. Adrian and I remove our weapons in sync. She doesn’t flinch. She's shocked like Ember was, mute and dazed when she was thrown to us.
“She needs a healer,” I mutter.