Ravenous (Immortals Untold #1)

Chapter 1 Princess Emilia Vlădescu

Princess Emilia Vl?descu

Crypt Castle, Kingdom of Bloodreach

You shall bear one hundred babes in one hundred years…

The king’s decree rang through the nearly empty court, tolling in Lia’s ears.

“Why?” she choked out. “Why would you curse me like this?” She’d been perfect, dutiful and compliant for all her twenty-two years.

“Curse?” King Neculain leaned back in his throne. “You will ensure the future of our species. Vampires shall revere your name for eons.”

She usually avoided her father’s gaze, but now Lia forced herself to look up through the haze of bloodroot incense that clung to every stone of this castle. It burned her lungs. Or maybe that was fear. “I don’t understand.”

“The Berserkers will war with us this Accession.” He flashed his fangs, red eyes widening. “They must. Many remain just on the cusp of immortality.”

Those bear-spirit warriors earned immortality through slaughter. Killing was prayer to them.

And vampires were their favorite offering—payback long owed, a debt written in arterial spray.

“I can’t fathom why they haven’t already stormed this rich castle.

” Neculain cast a disgusted look at his oldest son and heir, Prince Co?tin, who stood beside his throne.

“Under your watch, the army has faded in number and strength. You think I don’t know what outsiders call you?

The General of Nothing! We are the great Horde no longer. ”

Co?tin rested his hand on the golden sword at his side, his own eyes reddened like banked embers. Though he was a decent swordsman—a rarity—he ruled nothing, not even his own appetites.

And Father wasn’t wrong. Training halls stood empty while the vampires drowned in blood orgies and intoxispells. Even their teleportation had withered, lost to decadence.

But in fairness to her monstrous brother, the rot had festered long before his birth five centuries ago.

Co?tin’s attention locked on her again. As he stared, he sliced his tongue on a fang. Eyes promising horror, he hollowed his cheeks and nursed his own blood.

She shuddered. Will I never be free of his threat?

He believed she was his destined Bride. Lia hadn’t awakened his dead heart, but he’d decided she was too young to “blood” him.

Unlike all their fair-haired siblings, she and Co?tin resembled each other as closely as fraternal twins—the same pale skin, black hair, and amber eyes, though bloodlust tainted his. Perhaps he’d fixated on her due to her likeness: because his truest obsession had always been himself.

She’d been fourteen when he’d first tried to kiss her. Against her neck, he’d grunted, You are everything to me, sprung from the same womb and seed. As she thrashed, he’d commanded her, Wake my body, sor? mea, so I can use it on you.

“When the Berserker attack comes,” Father continued, oblivious, “you’ll be safe in the blood crypt.”

This snapped Lia’s focus from Co?tin. “You’re going to…to seal me in?” Deep beneath the castle lay a cave no force could breach, its stone walls weeping endless blood. “For how long?”

“Until the birth of your hundredth. Until our elite army is complete.”

Lia rocked on her feet. Would she be maddened by the twentieth babe? The fiftieth? She’d be only halfway done! “This is insane. Insects have fewer offspring!”

“This is my will. And you shall heed it.”

No courtiers witnessed his decree—only Co?tin, Queen Sereth, and the blank-eyed donors that slumped against the wall.

Sereth sat in her throne beside Neculain’s like a soulless doll, smoothing her blond hair.

“Mother,” Lia said, voice breaking, “please, you can’t let him.”

Sereth gave a testy sigh. “He’s the king.”

Blood tears pricked Lia’s eyes. Her mother had been a broodmare too—fourteen children in five hundred years—and had never resisted her fate.

Hadn’t even pretended to want more. “Who will accompany me?” Lia demanded of her father, swiping away tears.

“Do I get to pick which stud violates me?” She had never dreamed of speaking to him this way, but what did she have to lose?

Irritation crossed Neculain’s sharp features, his black brows knitting. “I will choose noble males. You’ll test the first babe. If it lacks your gift, you’ll mate with another.”

Her cursed “gift” was exactly the reason she shouldn’t be locked in the crypt!

Co?tin frowned. So he hadn’t known. Or worse—thought he should be the sire.

Lia told her father, “I’m not yet fixed into my immortal form, can’t even regenerate. Childbirth could kill me.”

“With my lineage, you will be hardy.” He planned to cage and breed his youngest child like an animal, like the blood donors.

Her gaze flicked to them. They donate nothing. Covered in bite marks, the Berserker mortals sagged against the far wall of the court, made docile with intoxicants.

Everyone in her family drank from them except her. Spittoons lined the walls to receive flesh if a bite landed too deep. Which often killed the Berserkers.

Her mother was infamous for those deaths, had reddened her eyes without ever hunting. Some whispered that she dreamed her victims’ bloodborne memories like stolen prayers.

Her father prolonged his meals. Tonight a collared female knelt at his feet, his “favorite snack.” Lia had long hated her parents, but never more than right now.

She forced herself to stay focused on her own fate, reasoning that she couldn’t help anyone from the crypt. “What you’ve described is hell, Father.” Every small dream she’d once hoarded began to shrivel. “I’m begging you—as your youngest child—not to do this.”

Neculain was unmoved by her words. “You have two weeks. Guards will see you don’t squander them.”

“And if I say no down in that crypt?”

“Then you’ll never leave it. One hundred babes is the price you’ll pay for freedom.”

Her voice barely held. “What if none of them inherit my gift?”

He smirked. “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try another’s seed…”

Was this just a joke to him? Other species speculated that the vampires were all mad, but especially the royals.

Not for the first time, Lia thought: We vampires are the creepy, wrong ones.

Co?tin’s voice cut through the tension. “You did not consult your heir, one deeply invested in her fate.”

“She is not your Bride,” Neculain snapped. “Her time in the crypt will rid you of this insane obsession as nothing else will.”

“So that’s your reason?”

“Partly. But mostly I want an army to claw its way up from the ground with murder in its veins like the first bloodthief. When the Berserkers come, they’ll find retribution buried right beneath them.” His eyes gleamed. “Nothing could be more vampiric than sowing a blood harvest.”

In Neculain’s mind, the end was nigh. Best to go out in carnage and death.

He told Lia, “You are vengeance incarnate, the sinister future of our species. Act the part.” He rose and vanished with his captive.

Lia turned to her mother, tears burning. “Please stop him, Mother.” Help me, though you never have before.

Sereth swept from the court. “The king has spoken. Be bold in your fate, child.”

No one had taught Lia boldness. But she had begun to learn cunning.

A plan took shape, dangerous and unforgivable. Glancing over the blood slaves, she thought, I owe this kingdom no allegiance.

Before she could flee, Co?tin’s lips curled, revealing his bloodied fangs. “The crypt has weaknesses. Father might prevent me from having you. But I’ll be damned to the hells before anyone else does.”

Lia fled, heart pounding, half expecting his hand on her throat. But he stood like a statue with that rictus smile frozen on his face…

Outside the court, Nadje, her royal companion, hurried to meet her in the hallway. “You are pale, my princess.”

“Walk with me.” Lia swept forward, her skirts whispering against stone.

Ancient family portraits glared from their gilded frames.

Tapestries depicting veins, thorns, and spiders spinning hung on the opposite wall.

Bloodreach’s weavers dyed their threads with blood and gore; Lia glanced down at her own gown, the crimson silk suddenly feeling like a death shroud.

A trio of intoxicated nobles stumbled past—flushed, drunk on spells, laughing as they headed for another endless revel. Their bows were lazy, mocking.

She inclined her head with equal disdain. Would they be down in the crypt with her? She grew even queasier.

When they veered down a side hall, Lia asked softly, “Did you hear anything from inside the court just now?”

Nadje’s auburn brows furrowed. “Only bits. Nothing that made sense.” Her accent, rough and musical, still carried the cadence of the Badlands, a postapocalyptic wasteland on the outskirts of Bloodreach.

Lia knew little of her past beyond rumor: a survivor, risen from filth and famine to serve a princess. Her hazel eyes showed no signs of bloodlust, though she’d admitted to obeying her prey drive on occasion, feeding lightly and never to the death.

Lia exhaled. “Whenever my family is given a choice between good and evil, they always choose evil.”

Nadje hesitated, then whispered, “Yes.” Even that small admission felt dangerous in these halls. The torches hissed, as though they’d heard.

“We’re the wrong ones,” Lia murmured. Then, searching Nadje’s clear gaze: “Can I trust you?”

“With your life,” she answered, tone low and earnest.

“I’m going to trust you with far more than that. But you mustn’t tell another soul.”

“I will never repeat anything you tell me.”

Lia eyed her rough-around-the-edges servant. Had her father or another faction installed Nadje as one of their agents? Why else would someone lacking in decorum be assigned to a royal?

What a gamble trusting her would be!

Nadje laid her hand on Lia’s arm, an impertinence. “Never, my princess.”