Chapter 7 #2
Until the sergeant storms toward Daire and slaps him hard across his naked thigh, which is revealed by the slit in his robe.
“Stop that fucking noise, you feathered son of a bitch,” the sergeant snarls. “It’s worse than a donkey braying.”
I stiffen with rage.
“Always nice to meet a fan,” Daire replies, coolly. “I do take requests.”
The sergeant raises his black claws, threateningly. “I am going to fucking rip off your…”
Shadow raises her head and roars.
The sound echoes through the dunes. The horses that are pulling the chariot dance away in fear.
For the first time on the journey, Lanlin turns around.
His eyes flash with rage.
Instantly, he wheels around on Devil, his demonic lion. With a speed that I would have called impossible, Devil’s powerful body coils and then lunges forward in a gallop.
Shadows trail behind Devil like scorched fur.
The sergeant pales and stumbles backward, but before he can run, Lanlin waves his hand.
Instantly, Devil opens her mouth. Thick black tendrils wind out, snatching the sergeant up around the middle and pinning his arms to his sides.
The sergeant struggles but he can’t escape. His legs dangle helplessly in the air. His chest rises and falls, as he quakes.
The entire army stops, as if at an unspoken order.
Stunned, I sit on Shadow’s back, frozen.
My pulse is roaring in my ears.
“Bloody brilliant,” Daire breathes.
Lanlin’s piercing stare sweeps over Daire and me, assessing us for injuries, before settling on the pink handprint that stands out starkly on Daire’s leg.
Instantly, Lanlin’s expression darkens. The shadowed tendrils squeeze the sergeant tighter.
Shit, is Lanlin going to kill the Eternal?
Devil drags the solider closer in front of Lanlin.
“Do you want to live?” Lanlin asks in a deceptively quiet voice.
“I’m sorry, Supreme Commander,” the sergeant manages to rasp.
“Are you?” Lanlin cocks his head. “But you laid your hands on my Blood Lover. Your actions threatened a peace deal that I have just brokered. What apology can make up for that?”
“Have mercy!” The sergeant begs.
Lanlin ignores him.
Instead, he looks past the sergeant to Daire and me. “Would you like his head as a courting gift?”
Daire lets out a delighted laugh.
I nip Daire’s neck in warning, before peering over his shoulder at this terrifying king who is offering murder like it’s a bouquet of roses. “Ehm, maybe just go with some chocolates over a severed head.”
“As you wish.”
“Or cakes,” Daire adds with a hopeful grin. “I love honey ones.”
“Honey cakes,” Lanlin says, thoughtfully, as if one of his soldiers isn’t still sweating in fear of his life in front of him. “I can do that, dearhearts.”
There is a long, tense moment, while Lanlin considers the sergeant like he is deciding whether he is going to serve the vampire’s head on a platter alongside the cakes, before he shrugs.
“You’re demoted.” Lanlin waves his hand.
Devil tosses the sergeant like trash back into the ranks.
The Blood howls as he lands, an upended beetle.
Immediately, Lanlin wheels around, as if to ride back to the front of the procession again.
Yet I am desperate to get to know Lanlin before we arrive at the Blood Court. As frightening as he is, he has just stood up for us in his own way.
I need to understand him. This is my best chance.
“Wait,” I yell.
Surprised, Lanlin glances over his shoulder at me. The moonlight catches on the diamonds that are woven into his long, black hair. His eyes are bright and large, works of art in gold and lapis lazuli.
Who is he, stripped back beneath the jewels, gold, and crown?
Lanlin catches my eye and then quickly looks away, flustered.
He winces, as if looking at me for too long is causing him pain.
But then, it probably is.
Aurelius told me that the Shadow Vampire King has been in agony for the last three years.
He must be close to feral.
Is he in pain now, simply from being close to me?
“Why don’t you ride with us, boss?” Daire offers, catching onto my plan.
“Don’t call me boss.” Lanlin wrinkles his nose.
Devil turns around, however, padding beside her sister. The two demonic lions rub their heads against each other in greeting; their shadows wind together like curling smoke.
Daire glances across at Lanlin. “Aye, bat.”
Bat?
I know that Daire is reckless and impulsive. But does he have a death wish?
Lanlin arches his brow.
“What?” Daire attempts an innocent expression. “Spark here can give you a pet name, but I can’t? Are they reserved for Blood Bonds only?”
“I don’t know, Little Dove.”
I laugh.
Daire shrugs “And to think I’ve been scared all week that you’d tear out my throat and steal my soulmate.”
I stiffen at the same time as Lanlin does.
Well, that moved from pet name teasing to serious talk quickly.
Lanlin stares ahead into the dark sand dunes; I don’t miss the way that he is swiping his tongue over his fangs like they’re hurting. “What else would I do, when I am a monster?”
Daire narrows his eyes. “You tell me.”
“If you care to believe me, dearhearts, I would tell you that I have never harmed a Blood Lover, and I would certainly never harm one destined for my own nest. You will be honored and respected. I would also tell you that I would never tear apart two souls who are entwined like you are. I can see your bond marks.”
“Aren’t vampires possessive and shit?” I question.
Lanlin’s unsettlingly intense gaze darts to me, before quickly away. “Very, which is why I intend to be possessive of you both. Now, are you hurt, Sweet Dove?”
Daire glances down at his reddened thigh, before huffing a laugh. “You may have noticed the scars and welts on my back and shoulders through this costume. I’ll survive a little slap.”
Lanlin’s lips curl back. “But you will not have to now that you are under my protection. I wish that I could rip off the hands of everyone who has ever laid them on you.”
“Don’t worry. Most of them are dead anyway. But I wouldn’t mind you killing the dragon who whipped me.”
Lanlin looks darkly delighted.
What is this, murder bonding?
“It is done,” Lanlin declares. “Just tell me his name.”
“Dove,” I hiss in warning.
Daire sighs. “Maybe later, aye?”
Lanlin nods like they’re now firm assassin friends.
I truly hope that Lanlin doesn’t discover that his Sweet Dove is secretly the fae king who killed his mom in battle, when he so casually talks about assassinating Caligo, the instructor who beat Daire.
My pulse speeds up. Sweat drips down the back of my neck.
It hits deep in my guts how deadly this vampire is.
Also, how I’m isolated now in the Blood Kingdom with only Daire as an ally.
Surrounded by enemy soldiers.
As a spy.
If the secret identities of either Daire or I are discovered, then we’re dead.
“You do not need to tell me the name of the dragon who masked your pretty face with cursed silver to shame you or burned your wrists with iron.” Lanlin’s voice becomes low and deadly. “I recognize the work of the Nightmare of Bael. Shall I break the magic or break him?”
Normally, I would be filled with joy to hear someone offer to break Maximinus and to free Daire, but it jeopardizes the mission.
I expect Daire to find a clever way out of the offer, but instead, he tilts his head in thought.
“Can you?” He asks.
What the fuck is Daire doing?
“I would need my mages to research it.” Lanlin’s brow furrows. “And that is made harder by the mask being silver. But I shall set them to work. I have lotions to help with burns. We could cover your delicate skin with bandages to keep the iron away from it, but I am unsure if that would work.”
Daire hums, noncommittal.
Yet I can sense his surprise and happiness through the bond.
How many people have cared about his pain, apart from me?
Except, Lanlin is not offering to help the warrior Daire, war hardened alongside the featherglass, is he? He believes that he’s caring for my soulmate, the delicate, abused fae who has been cruelly treated by the dragons.
It appears that even Shadow Vampires need to see themselves as the white knights.
Wraith told me that this would be Lanlin’s weakness.
Daire and I are managing the feigned weakness well with the help of that fucking sergeant.
Now, it’s time to exploit another tactic, which Wraith taught me in the Guild: Our shared experiences on the journey.
“What’s that sweet smell?” I wrinkle up my nose at the honey-like fragrance that is mixed with the cool night air.
“I shall try to remember that your night senses are not as enhanced as mine.” For the first time, Lanlin’s eyes brighten, and he looks younger. “White lotuses.”
When he waves his hand, a swarm of millions of bright fireflies light up at his command. They reveal streams, which run either side of the path down to the squat mud brick houses of a village at the bottom of a valley, which is overshadowed by the polished white limestone of a grand pyramid.
The sight takes away my breath.
The streams are covered in a bed of flowers, whose silky white petals are curved up to sleep like floating discs.
Beneath the fireflies, the lotuses look like stars resting on the water.
“Beautiful,” I murmur.
“We believe,” Lanlin’s voice sounds far away, as if he is remembering something that he was taught when he was much younger, “that the lotus closes at night to journey into the underworld and rises to open again with the sun, reborn. This is why we carve it on tomb walls and sarcophagi.” He gestures at the pyramid.
“Both this village and my palace are named after the lotus. It is a symbol of eternal return — a night that does not end in darkness, but rather, the dawn.”
“Bloody strange for vampires to name anything after the dawn,” Daire comments.
“Don’t you worship the very things that you can’t see but still believe in? Faith? Hope?” Lanlin’s voice is liltingly hypnotic.
Daire’s expression becomes shut off. “Nay, it’s been a long time since I have worshiped hope.”