CHAPTER 16
Aimee
Last night’s revelations sit heavy on my soul, like bone-crushing boulders over insignificant butterfly wings.
I’ve all but barricaded myself in the bedroom for the past day, trying to put sense into this new reality I’m currently living. I couldn’t hold Killian’s gaze any longer, not after his harrowing confession.
Heaviness weighs down my limbs as I try to disentangle truth from fiction, facts from lies.
I’m past the tidal wave of rage I initially felt at the realm encompassing deception we’ve all been spoon-fed since the cradle.
Now I’m neck deep in the murky, breath-hindering quicksand of grief.
My heart bleeds out for the vampires and the atrocities they’ve been facing since the olden days, both at the hands of Faes, and now in the relentless, coercive clutches of Morweena.
Turns out that the infamous vampire ruthlessness doesn’t come from their wicked second nature.
No.
Centuries upon centuries of fighting for their existence, never knowing peace, never tasting unburdened freedom—that’s what forged it.
Guilt washes over me like a jet-black wave of muggy tar.
It clings to my lungs, making my breathing labored.
It drips from my ribs, marking my insides in betrayal.
Painful guilt clenches my brain, squashing, distorting my vision.
How can I continue this charade, pretending there is a light at the end of the tunnel for them, when I know damn well Aurora will never come for me? That she is not my savior, or the beacon of hope they desperately need her to be?
I groan in defeat.
No, I cannot wait a moment longer without telling Killian my truth. A half-truth, at that. As much as I want to help him, and dear Gods that never fucking care to look my way in mercy—I want to help—I am unwilling to share all my gruesome secrets.
What good can come from him knowing the extent of my brokenness? The torture and vivid horrors my sister put me through? I wouldn’t survive him regarding me like a deadbeat doll—like a being mangled beyond redemption.
What I can do is offer my help in the only way I know how.
By pledging to their cause, and joining their efforts to defeat the onpyrs, even if I’m just a magicless female.
I will not stand back while innocents suffer at the hands of pure evil.
Something deep in my soul tugs at me, wanting me to fight alongside Killian, not against him.
I must also warn them that their plans for me are futile. That they must entrap Aurora some other way. Be prepared for whatever preposterous claims she will spew in order to complete the prophecy.
My twin is an unholy force to be reckoned with, and in order to be weaponized against Morweena, they will pay a steep price. There is no goodness in her heart to draw from, no compassionate cords to be touched.
But somehow, faced with the evil sorceress hell-bent on kneeling the entire realm to her power-hungry, destructive will, my sister shines through as the lesser evil.
With my decision made, I walk the gloomy, silent halls separating my bedchamber from Killian’s wing of the castle.
It’s high time we had a heart to heart. Sort of…
I’m about to knock on the heavy black doors of his lounging chamber when hushed, determined whispers draw my attention to another room down the corridor. I move on silent, shaking feet towards the faint sounds, and tap steadily at the entrance, before slipping into the unknown chamber.
Four sets of smoldering eyes look my way, and I almost feel the need to cower in the corner, ashamed of my intrusion.
Killian, Blaise, the mean vampire female, and another male I’ve never seen before watch me with different expressions.
Weary.
Tender.
Amused.
Enraged.
“Who let the magicless scum in?” Leilah huffs through gritted teeth at the same time that Killian softly questions, “Little umbra, are you alright?”
Her sharp gaze hones in on him for a second before returning to me, burning with renewed hostility.
“I…” my tone shakes with mild apprehension, “I want to help.” I steel my resolve, chin held high. Although I might be magicless scum, as the female implied, I can hold my own. And now I wish to hold theirs too.
Killian’s stare softens, and he parts his full lips, but before he can utter a single word, Leilah’s sharp tone cuts through the air like an unforgiving blade.
“We don’t need your tragic ass’s help, Fae filth. What will you do? Implore the enemy to leave us be?” she says with bitterness, hatred swimming in her leering eyes.
Hatred and raging jealousy.
The realization hits me like a brick wall, and my green-eyed monster roars to life.
This vampiress’s attitude stakes an unmitigated claim on Killian, and his self-restraint against the bullshit she spews my way only furthers my comprehension.
There is something going on between these two, or there has been, at some point in time.
Hurt and betrayal gallop through me like a horde of bloodthirsty animals, and I start shaking, fueled by my rising hot temper.
“Leilah…” Killian warns in a haughty tone, but I don’t need him to fight my battles for me.
I push down my anxiety as far as I can reach, and face her head-on. The tension in the room is as thick as unyielding stone, but I refuse to cower any longer.
“I’m usually opposed to females pitted against each other for such degrading matters as the attention of a male, but it’s not my bloody fault if he doesn’t want to fuck you, vampiress.
Nor is it my problem.” I snarl, pouring as much venom as I can muster into my tone.
“Instead of focusing your misplaced wrath on me, maybe you should take a good, hard look at yourself. Bitterness is such a turnoff.”
Blaise’s impressed whistle cuts through the resounding silence like a sharp blade through flesh. So does the other vampire’s restrained chuckle. “You know nothing about me, or what I am capable of, Lei-lah, dear,” I say, pronouncing her name derisively.
Chaos ensues as the female is just a blur of violent movement, and I brace myself for impact. But before she can lay her hands on me, and cause any long-lasting harm, turbulent crimson shadows erupt in the room, and she gets knocked off her feet, just a hair’s breadth away from my frame.
“Marhus, get her the fuck out now, before I do something we cannot come back from,” Killian says with a sneer.
The blond vampire moves into action immediately, hauling a shrieking Leilah from the floor, and dragging her out of the chamber.
I regain my composure, breathing through my nose and exhaling through my mouth, as I do when dispelling my constant anxiety.
Worry shines through Killian’s eyes, just as vividly as bemused approval sparkles through Blaise’s.
“I want to help.” I reinforce my earlier comment, not losing any time to dwell on that petty standoff. That bitch can fuck off for all I care, and Killian should be thankful that I chose to change the subject immediately.
“War is a messy, storm-tossed thing, little umbra,” Killian softly tries to let me down. “Not sure what you can do.”
“I know my way around a dagger.” My stare narrows on him. “I can fight.” He can go to hell if he thinks he can talk me out of getting involved in their war. “Maybe not on a battlefield, but I can be useful if there is ever another attack like last night. Give me a dagger, and I can fight.”
“Not an onpyr, you don’t, kitty,” Blaise says.
“Then train me,” I immediately respond, not taking my eyes off Killian’s, my stare challenging him to refuse me.
“Blaise can start training you first thing tomorrow,” he concedes, seeming to understand that I won’t budge. Smart vampire.
“Why him, and not you?” I ask, crossing my arms in defiance. “No offense, Blaise.”
“Absolutely offense taken,” he scoffs, but his grin is too wide for me to take his words seriously.
“Because, little umbra, you and I on the training mat… sweaty… all tangled up in each other—our limbs intertwined… body parts flush against another—is definitely not a good idea. Not for training, at least.” Killian’s scorching obsidian pools leave a trail of liquid heat on my instantly fevered skin.
Blaise snickers, completely entertained by the exchange.
“Besides, Blaise is the best warrior in the kingdom, skilled in spying and weaponry.”
The vampire mockingly bows at the appraisal.
“It’s settled then. Tomorrow morning we start.” I nod towards Blaise, and he bobs his head in confirmation.
“What else?” I ask, my eyes roaming over the kingdom’s map displayed on the wall behind the vampire’s desk. Almost the entire upper half is blackened by many dots, four red-flagged pins standing out in the sea of darkness. “Is that the enemy territory?”
Killian gives a slight nod of his head.
“What are those red dots, then?” They are spread every which way on the map, not forming any pattern in particular.
“The possible strongholds from which Morweena operates,” the Vampire King answers.
“We’ve narrowed it down to these four locations, interrogating prisoners, but we are at an impasse.
To pinpoint the actual position, we would need to send vampire spies to all of these places, and with her mind control powers, it’s just too dangerous.
We can’t afford to lose more soldiers than we already have. ”
I squint at the four names written under the red flags, one of them burning through my memories.
“It’s Burneside Keep,” I say without hesitation. “Morweena wages this war from Burneside Keep.”
“How the hell would you know that, kitty cat?” Blaise questions me with raised eyebrows, disbelief painted on his features.
“That’s where Vladymyr said he wanted to take me, to please his mistress by bringing her the Vampire King’s whore.”
Killian openly gapes at me in shock, while Blaise wheezes out a strangled laugh, locking his hands behind his head.
“No fucking way! We’ve been busting our balls for years to no avail for this information, and of course, the soon to be warrior princess stumbles upon it in her very first encounter with an onpyr!
” His disbelieving laugh gains traction, eyes filled with glee.
“I could fucking tongue kiss you right now…”
A menacing growl emanates from Killian’s throat, shadows churning possessively around his figure.
“…But, I cherish my existence way too much to make such a hasty mistake. I will leave the steamy tongue kissing for the two of you.”
I half-smile, amused by his antics. Gods, one can never truly take Blaise seriously, can he?
It’s even more impressive that he is the best spy in the kingdom, when his attitude is boisterous and buffooning almost all the Godsdamn time.
I always envisioned a spy as a taciturn creature, shrouded in silence and secrets, slinking through the shadows to gather intel and enact nefarious plans.
Leave it to Blaise to obliterate such preconceived ideas with his frivolous, devil-may-care attitude.
“Prepare a small scouting expedition with our best spies, Blaise. No engaging, no risk of discovery,” the King orders.
“I will lead the expedition myself,” Blaise counters.
“No. I need you here, especially if it goes sideways. Send Lukha, Mayri, Amaiah, and Desmond. You stay here and train Aimee.”
Blaise bows his head in acceptance, then takes his leave. I watch his retreating form disappear in the hallway; the door thudding closed behind him.
I drag my gaze back to a staring Killian, my skin tingling in uneasiness for what I’m about to say.
“There’s one other thing…” I force the words to come out, one at a time. I will my heartbeats to slow down into a steady rhythm, although I can hear each drum-like beat in my ears.
“You’re finally ready to let me know where your reclusive sister is hiding,” Killian offers softly, his gaze a longing caress—his shadows humming a faint whisper of greedy yearning, of unspoken promises and untethered passion.
I take one last steadying breath to calm my fraying nerves, wishing the next few minutes won’t scatter the fragile truce we’ve accomplished here—knowing it shouldn’t matter anyway, because he is not meant to be mine.
“About that…”