Chapter 4
Vastion
The trumpeting horns cued my procession.
My sister walked gracefully at my side and, despite my recommendation to wear something less ostentatious, she did not heed my warning.
Like the Vampyr nobles, Mina found too much pleasure in fineries.
An obvious symptom of boredom. The beading of her dress sparkled from every angle as lantern light reflected off the shiny, pearlescent stones.
Despite the heavy weight of her tiara, she held her chin high and delighted in the stares and whispers.
Given the chance, she would no doubt enjoy sitting atop the throne, freeing me of my burden.
Orin paced closely behind us, dressed in sharp military attire that had never seen a battlefield.
His hand still rested casually atop his sword—as a warning.
Distant cousins, other nobles and their consorts, were already seated on one side of the room.
To my left, I could smell the scents of humans mixed with that of glazed meats and pies.
I didn’t mind the smell of the food, though it no longer evoked hunger the way it had so long ago.
Now, it was much like the smell of a flower—delightful but unappetizing.
That other scent, though… Humans. It had taken many years of practice to mute my innate senses while in their presence. My mouth used to water and my fingers would twitch when they were nearby. I could feel my fangs threatening to poke through, urging me to taste them.
While I was still keenly aware of them, I trusted myself and the others under my rule to behave civilly. It was essential to our harmonious co-existence.
To my right, I sensed stale blood wafting from the carafes.
I would have loved to indulge in a glass, but many ceremonies ago I’d decided it was distasteful to drink in front of the Tributes.
They already feared my kind; I needn’t add to that before they had any chance of feeling safety or comfort in my presence.
The horns fell silent, and from the corner a voice proclaimed, “King Vastion, ruler of Devana. Keeper of peace. May the Gods bless his reign!”
In response, all attendees stood to face me and gave a short bow, then repeated in unison, “Keeper of peace. Gods bless his reign.”
The silence was palpable as the humans looked to one another, wondering what to do next. It had been two generations since Queen Adria’s coronation and few, if any, in attendance tonight were of age to recall those proceedings.
The orator continued his announcement, Gods-be-praised because the silence had quickly turned awkward.
“Please be seated, everyone. It is time for the opening ceremonies and introductions.”
At once, the tent was inundated with loud thuds and hushed voices as everyone took their seats, eagerly awaiting what came next.
“By the authority vested in me, I now commence the opening of the seventh Harvest, offered in tribute by the four territories of King Vastion’s kingdom.”
Mina and Orin took their seats at the head table, and my sister gave me an encouraging wink. Something I did not need, as I was very familiar with this pageantry.
“The treaty between human and Vampyr is maintained for the harmony and safety of all its people. Those who threaten this balance forfeit its abundance and protection. Justice requires fairness and equality. Where there is divergence, we must seek balance in the name of peace.”
I heard a snort from one of my own and sent a glare in the direction of their table. I was met with expressionless faces as the speech continued.
“A throne must represent all its citizens; thus, we continue our most cherished tradition of selecting a human female to wed and share in the reign of King Vastion’s seventh Season.”
In the ensuing chaos after I had ended my father’s reign, I convened with my most trusted council, which at the time included a wise and selfless vampire named Kyr.
He had proposed a solution to keep the peace between the humans and us, the Forsaken.
We needed them as a continuous source of sustenance, and they needed us for strength and protection.
We were bound to help build and fortify their territories, along with keeping them safe from Vampyr who no longer observed the treaty: those Forlorn succumbed to rabidness.
This same treaty established the concept of an equal reign, whereby a human queen must always sit atop the throne.
And lastly, the humans must provide a regular supply of blood donated through willing Vassals.
In exchange, the Vampyr of Devana would cease all feedings directly from the source.
Anyone caught breaking those rules would be sentenced to death.
Any territory that did not supply donations and a Tribute each Harvest would forego these protections.
Looking to the table dedicated to the Tributes, I noted four individuals instead of the usual three.
Orin had already informed me that attacks by the Forlorn near Leto resulted in them finally acquiescing to the treaty.
I had no idea which of these females hailed from Leto, but I was about to find out.
“We ask that the Tributes from each territory step forward as called upon and introduce yourself to His Majesty, King Vastion.”
Here we go again, I thought with an edge of apathy.
“We call upon the Tribute from Enud!”
The young lady at the end stood and stepped around the front of the table.
She was diminutive in size, perhaps the shortest Tribute I’d ever encountered.
Her youthful beauty was a bit alarming—seemingly too young, possibly barely of age to even be considered a Tribute by our standards.
Though my endless years far surpassed any woman I would ever welcome as queen, I still had no interest in a child bride.
She curtsied in front of me and offered her hand. “I am Mircea. It is my honor to meet you. I represent the humble citizens of Enud and welcome you to our homeland.”
I’d learned from Seasons past that it was best not to show my inclination toward any one candidate.
Orin had confirmed once that the townspeople wasted what little money they had placing bets on the results of the Harvest. I refused to play into any of that nonsense by providing fodder for speculation or gossip.
Mircea’s hand shook nervously in my grasp as I bent down and placed my cool lips atop her knuckles.
She had long, white, colorless locks that matched her eyebrows and lashes.
Her skin was porcelain, like eggshells. Her light eyes were such a pale blue they might almost be considered silver.
She was a unique beauty, to say the least. I couldn’t imagine I’d seen anything quite like her in all my life.
One might even describe her intense look as peculiar, even haunting.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said calmly.
She curtsied again before stepping away to resume her place at the table.
As she walked away, I took note of the white gown.
Clearly this was their attempt to induce thoughts of a wedding dress, but it was an unflattering choice given her complexion.
I wasn’t supposed to write anyone off entirely, but there was still something unsettling about her youthful appearance.
Per tradition, all candidates would have to remain in consideration until the final selection; anyway, comeliness was never the driving force behind such decisions.
“We call upon the Tribute from Muir!” the host yelled, beckoning forth the next introduction.
The woman before me was unique in an entirely different sense from Mircea.
If the Tribute from Enud was the moon, then the female from Muir was the night sky.
Beguiling features spanned her ebony skin, warm lips and umber eyes.
She reminded me of Adria at first, but there was something particularly unassuming about her.
Though, she towered half a head above me.
I found myself looking up at a Tribute for the first time ever.
Her sable-brown hair was intricately braided in rows that complimented her high cheekbones.
She was absent any of the usual adornments like makeup, sparkly jewelry, or hairpieces.
Had her territory gifted her nothing for this presentment?
Still, there was something daring and fresh about her confidence.
I’d become used to females who focused too much on exaggerating their features, with Mina and most of the royal court as examples.
As I was admiring the superb stitching and patterns of her attire, she curtailed my assessment by way of introduction.
“I am Roxelana,” she said in a raspy voice, while dipping into a low bow.
A woman of few words. Upon standing, she placed her hand in mine, and I couldn’t help but notice the leather bracers running down the length of her wrist and the tiny calluses she tried to conceal by relinquishing my hand quickly.
I knew those marks, the remnants of those truly dedicated to practicing the blade.
I concealed my shock that the territory of Muir might have sent me a warrior.
The introductions continued as the Tribute from Lyr was called next.
A heavy, ornately jeweled headpiece jingled with each step she took toward me.
It was a shock she could carry the weight of it all.
Her hair was concealed by a silk scarf wrapped tightly against her head.
Like the others, she dipped into a bow and raised her hand.
“I am Alius. I, and the people of Lyr, extend our condolences for the loss of Queen Adria.”
I felt my throat bob with grief and quickly swallowed it.
I would not let them see the rawness this woman seemed intent to expose.
Never before had a Tribute acknowledged a former wife, let alone the death of one.
Even if they hailed from the same territory.
My Gods, the impropriety was unheard of.
Had no one prepared these women for their introductions?
Unable to summon the patience to welcome her warmly, I nodded and quickly kissed her hand so that she may return to her seat.
The territories had brought me the moon, the night sky, and now the stars twinkling like the jewel-encrusted attire worn by the Tribute from Lyr.
I turned away from the table out of sheer habit, having only ever been presented with three Tributes each prior Season.
My sister gave me a wide-eyed glare and jutted her chin to the side, jarring my attention back to the table as the first-ever Tribute from Leto was called.
I turned back around to face their table and was caught off guard by the woman before me. She was as bright as the sun.
I straightened my posture and set my lips into a rigid line while I assessed her, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
She was nothing if not beautiful. She moved slower than the others, more intentional with her movements as she dipped into a low bow, letting me admire her cleavage.
Instead of rising with her head down, she stayed low and looked up at me directly.
Was I the only one who noticed the immodesty of her action?
She rose to her feet and extended her hand, awaiting my touch.
“I am Esiree. You may call me Es, if it pleases you,” she said teasingly.
If it pleases me… The audacity of this woman!
What sort of game was she playing? The buzz of the room fell away as I finally reached out and pressed a cold, formal kiss atop her knuckles.
But as I went to pull away, she deliberately dragged her fingertips across the center of my palm, a slow trail of heat that lingered far longer than was appropriate.
Was she testing me? A flare of irritation ignited beneath my skin. I needed her to understand that I was not a man to be toyed with, and she was certainly not the first Tribute to try and sway my decision with such reckless behavior.
She turned to walk away, but my words stopped Esiree in her tracks. “It is wonderful to see that the territory of Leto has finally decided to join the rest of the kingdom and acknowledge my reign.”
When she turned to face me, I could finally see it breaking through the cracks of her finely manicured facade. A trace of disdain, just below the surface of that confident smile.
Ahh, there you are firebird. I knew you burned hotter than you were letting on.
“The people of Leto are grateful for the protections of His Majesty, and we hope you’ll find our Vassals palatable to your exquisite tastes.”
Her response incited small gasps throughout the room, yet I found her gall rather amusing. Reminding me that, for her, this was merely an obligation.
Oh, Esiree, you should have been counseled better than this. Showing your hand so soon.
That smug look on her face could only mean one thing: she detested me. It was almost adorable, and it was in that moment that I thought, why not? I needed a bit of sport. Running an entire kingdom could be such tedious work—at least this might prove entertaining.