16. Chapter 16
Chapter 16
A urelia grew restless in the windowless chambers.
Her magick was raging to find an outlet now that she’d fed on Ven, but with the shackles that still bound her, there was nowhere for it to go. She felt useless—worthless.
Karro was somewhere rotting in a cell or possibly dead, and the ring was in the Nostari’s possession now.
How they would manage to get both and leave this place . . .
Guards stood watch outside her door at all hours. The faces changed, but they were ever-present, and Ven's father rarely seemed to let him out of his sight.
The door creaked open behind her and a new set of human servants entered, one carrying a glossy bundle of fabric in her hands, the other, a tray with stale bread and thin broth.
Taking the tray, Aurelia tore into the bread. She’d pushed away the food the first few times it had been offered to her, until she considered it might be the only thing the human captives were given.
She glanced up at the placid faces of the young women. They would die here. All of them. And maybe it was a small mercy that they didn’t seem to feel fear or pain.
The chambers were silent except for the small, practiced movements of the women as they worked. A shimmering white gown was pulled over her hips. Sheer sleeves draped down her arms and kissed the wrought cuffs of silver circling her wrists, and as the clasp was hooked into place along her shoulders, the door opened again.
Ven’s half-sister stood at the threshold, her sheet of hair pulled back into intricate braids that sharpened the severe angles of her beautiful face—as if she had been carved from this harsh place herself.
Her bright red eyes swept over Aurelia, assessing and cold before she turned on a heel and led her through the fortress.
Torchlight flickered along the roughly carved walls as Valea took her into the throne room. Aurelia's eyes instantly found Ven’s raven hair amongst the crowd of platinum and white, standing at the right hand of his father’s throne. Valea took her place at the king’s left, her face swallowed up by the hulking shadow of the throne.
The monstrous chair would have overwhelmed a mortal man, but the Blood King lounged comfortably, his large forearm braced against the black stone that had been carved in relief. Fangs, and claws, and wicked things that were meant to inspire fear. And at this moment, she hated that it did exactly that.
Ven’s eyes flashed with dread as they landed on her, but in an instant his face was impassive, devoid of any emotion once more.
Leering stares from around the room scorched her exposed skin, a chorus of whispers traveling along the circular walls of the cavern.
Half-breed. Solari scum. Parfodai.
The last was some word spoken in their ancient tongue. Even though she didn’t understand it, the meaning was clear enough with the way they spat it at her like a curse.
The king lifted a milk-white hand and the court instantly fell silent, only the echoes of their jeers left to ricochet off the cavern walls like spent arrows.
He stood to his considerable height, striding down the wide stone steps of his throne as his pale red eyes scanned the court. “She is not the true threat in this room.”
A prickle of warning broke out across her skin as she was led toward the side of the throne room. Thankful, at least, that she had not been thrown into the empty space at the center. It seemed that had been reserved for some other unlucky soul.
“No—the true threat is not from an outsider.” The King’s deep voice boomed through the cavern, his eyes glittering with malice. “It is from within my very court.”
Someone was pushed forward through the crowd. Gasps and hisses erupted as a male was shoved to his knees before the king, his hands bound with the same silver cuffs that stifled her own magick.
The male appeared to be fifty, though she knew that meant he must have seen centuries, maybe millennia. He was handsome, with the broad shoulders of a warrior. An interwoven pattern was inked in red upon his neck, some symbol that looked as if it had no end and no beginning.
She remembered his face from when they had been brought before the king, standing beside the throne, but it was bruised and bloodied so much that he was nearly unrecognizable now. Whatever punishments he’d endured must have been truly brutal if they still showed on his immortal skin.
“Roheer.” The King’s mouth curved up in a saccharine smile, the scarred flesh of his throat twisting grotesquely. “My old friend. My trusted advisor.” A hush fell over the room as the king stepped from his throne to tower over the male. “Do you deny your involvement in a plot to overthrow me?” he asked, venom lacing his words.
To his credit, the male did not drop his gaze.
The cavern was silent, hundreds of red eyes focused on the male kneeling before the king. Though he was on his knees, nothing about his demeanor spoke of cowardice. From the straight line of his shoulders to the proud jut of his chin.
Roheer lifted his head higher, meeting the king’s eyes. “I do not.”
The court broke out into a hushed frenzy of whispers. A pillar of a female threw herself from the crowd, howling his name. She scrambled to where he knelt on the cold floor, wrapping her slender white arms around him as she wept, and as her curtain of platinum hair fell over her shoulder, Aurelia saw a matching tattoo in red along her neck.
Roheer’s spine remained straight as his bound hands would allow, but for a moment emotion softened his rugged features. He kissed the female once—a final parting as the guards drug her back into the swell of the crowded room.
“And the other traitors,” rage leaked through the king’s voice, “who are they?”
From the bruises and dried blood on Roheer’s face, they had already tried to pry the information from him and failed.
Murmurs rose up throughout the room, more panicked this time as the male’s chin lifted in defiance. “I, alone, acted in this,” he answered. “I could not continue to watch our great kingdom crumble.” He spat blood onto the dark floor, and the stone seemed to drink it up greedily. “And now you allow him back into your court.” He threw a vicious look at Ven. “Or do you not recall how many of our kind he murdered?”
Roheer turned to face the court. “Do you not remember how he earned his title? The Black Veil of the Battlefield.” Rage burned in the male’s eyes as he looked at Ven. “Using the magick of his tainted blood to smother hundreds of our sons and daughters, mothers and fathers,” his gaze swept the crowd once more, “your claimed.”
Hisses and snarls of quiet menace resounded through the cavern, fangs bared in silent threat—though she couldn’t be sure if it was at the king’s advisor or Ven.
“Our noble bloodlines are deteriorating because our king chooses to hide within these walls. Do you wish to remain here for eternity? Waiting for our magick to dwindle into nothing beneath the shadow of this mountain." His voice rose, the resolve of a male with nothing left to lose. "Because I do not.”
Low murmurs enveloped the room. Hushed and angry.
“You speak of sovereignty,” the king interrupted, “And yet my sighs and whispers tell me that you wish to make amends with our enemies.”
“I am willing to do what it takes to keep our magick from extinction,” Roheer answered.
The king sneered. “We are the Blood Folk. And we do not make bargains with lessers.” He stalked up the wide steps of his throne, easing back into the unforgiving stone with an imperious smile. “Venohan—find out who his accomplices were.”
The quiet command silenced the murmurs circulating the room.
Ven’s eyes slid to where his father sat. Contempt gleamed in their depths as he made no move to step forward.
Without warning, a searing blast of heat scorched Aurelia’s back. Her knees gave out as pain blistered along her spine, the stench of burning skin filling her nostrils.
A guttural growl ripped through the chamber as Ven lunged toward her from across the room. His fingers were outstretched as he leapt to his feet, but no magick answered him. Not a whisper of shadow or a lick of flame.
The guards held her arms tightly enough to bruise, keeping her from falling onto the hard floor as she choked back a whimper of agony.
The king lifted a pale hand. “I will not ask you again.”
Venom dripped from Ven's expression, and the guard at her left faltered for a moment, his grip loosening a fraction at the rage flaring in his crimson eyes.
Flame enveloped the hand of the guard to her right, his eyes fixed on the king as he waited for the command. The searing heat licked close enough to her skin that she broke out into a sweat, her teeth clenched against the impending pain. Her lightning answered in kind, crackling under her skin as it seethed, smothered by the bands around her wrists.
“Don’t!” Ven dropped his hands to his sides, fists clenched.
Chest heaving, he finally tore his eyes away from her to look at his father, resignation in the set of his broad shoulders. With cold resolve, he strode forward, murder in his eyes as they glittered with an unspoken promise toward the guard that held her.
Coming to a halt, Ven’s gaze dropped to where Roheer knelt before him.
“Who were the others?” he asked, his voice laced with ice.
Roheer fought the command. His jaw clenching and his teeth grinding with the effort. As if somehow he could physically resist the pull of Ven’s compulsion.
In the periphery of her vision, Aurelia noticed others from the crowd began to peel away—or tried to.Guards were posted at every exit, blocking the path of the members of the court who attempted to flee, damning themselves in the process.
Red spittle bubbled from between Roheer’s lips. His jaw clenched so hard that she wondered if his teeth might shatter.
Ven did not repeat the question—he didn’t need to, and Aurelia wondered how easy it would have been for him to break a lesser male.
Roheer put up a valiant fight, but at last the names were pulled from him. Wrenched through his teeth like a gag as the conspirators’ identities poured from his mouth.
Ven’s expression was detached as Roheer choked out the last name, sweat beading across his pale brow as he slumped forward.
The throne room rang with silence.
“Valea,” the king commanded, quiet triumph written on his face.
Ven’s half-sister stepped from the shadows. Raising her outstretched hand, red flame engulfed Roheer.
His screams of agony echoed through the cavern as thousands of red eyes watched. The fire became so blindingly bright that his kneeling form was no longer distinguishable from the flames as his cries finally stopped.
Valea lowered her hand, her fire banking until only a pile of ash and embers remained of the male that had been there moments ago. Her face remained a mask of grim duty, and for a moment—Aurelia wondered if maybe the Captain didn’t enjoy doling out the king’s justice.
The room fluttered back to life, shouts of protest ringing out through the cavern as other members of the court were hauled into the tunnels branching off into darkness, disappearing along with the ones who had tried to escape.
Tension was coiled tightly throughout the court, palpable even to an outsider like herself as a low murmur passed through the remaining nobility.
The king raised his glass, silencing the crowd. “A toast—to a new era.”
A group of humans were herded into the hall, and the thin veneer of civility cracked as the Nostari descended on them.
The men and women were docile enough that they didn’t fight back—and even if they had, it wouldn’t have mattered. The Nostari were cruelly-crafted predators.
But maybe it was a small gift that there were no pleas for mercy, no prayers uttered to deaf gods.
Feral sounds echoed through the room as half of the humans were killed instantly—their throats torn out and their blood drained. The other half were dragged off into the darker corners of the room with the more disciplined nobility.
Aurelia stumbled forward as the guards at her side released her, turning away from the scene and hating herself for not having the stomach to do something.
The dull, lifeless looks in the humans' eyes were enough to tell her that her efforts would be futile. She would only paint a target on her own back if she got between those beasts and their prey. This must have been a rare benevolence from their king if even the nobility were ravenous for blood. Even her guards seemed unable to resist the offering of fresh blood as they left her . . .
The sudden freedom made her heartbeat thud in her chest. She glanced around the room, searching for an exit. A few pairs of red eyes trailed after her, but no one moved to follow as she slowly backed toward one of the carved doorways.
She turned, freedom only a few steps away—
A lean silhouette stepped into her path.
Aurelia couldn’t read the expression on her face, whether it was mild amusement or irritation as Valea lifted a pale hand and examined her cuticles. “You should be careful wandering these halls,” she drawled. “It would be easy to get lost—or go missing,” she added with a pointed look.
A threat, then.
Glancing over her shoulder, a little of the fight drained out of Aurelia as she watched the guards scan the room for her. “My escorts will see to it that I don’t.”
Valea’s silky voice dripped with venom as she replied, “Have you considered the guards are there to keep you safe?”
Aurelia scoffed, even though she knew there was a thread of truth in the female’s words. The beasts of this court might try to kill her simply because she wasn’t one of them, but they’d have to face the king’s wrath for it. For now—she was still useful, the newly healed skin of her back was proof of that.
“The insult they throw at you,” Valea’s ice-white brows lifted, “ parfodai .” Her smile sharpened. “Do you know what it means in the old tongue?”
Aurelia remained silent, worried that her words would give away too much.
“Parasite.” Valea’s gleaming teeth bit off the last syllable. “Half-breeds don’t possess power except that which they consume from others.”
It confirmed as much as Aurelia suspected. They thought she was harmless. Powerless. Weak.
And not long ago, they would have been right.
Valea gave a predatory tilt of her head, studying her. “And if you’re smart—you’ll continue to let them think that.”
Aurelia feigned a look of confusion at the words. The fear that drenched her scent was real enough as the pale female laid her bare, her gaze sharp as a blade.
Valea turned, her platinum braids swaying as she uttered over her shoulder, “ Parfodai or not—you’re the only fresh blood that has been in this mountain for centuries. And males do stupid, reckless things when they don’t have battles to fight and scars to collect.”
And as Valea disappeared into the shadows once more, Aurelia was left feeling that her words had been more caution than threat.