Chapter Eight
There is only one way to solve a mystery and that is to put yourself right in the middle of it.
So, I follow them.
Making sure to stay behind the group, I try my best to keep up without being noticed. I peek around the person in front of me, watching as we approach the scene. There is already a crowd of people blocking the way forward.
I push my way to the front, my hand covering my mouth in shock at what I see.
“He is gone. Please someone help me, he is gone.”
Before me, a woman is knelt on the ground in front of an open door. She is hysterical, her face in her hands as she sobs loudly. Someone is knelt down next to her trying to soothe her, but she is inconsolable.
I can feel her pain as if it is my own.
Noticing the open door, I slowly work my way to the edge of the doorway. When I reach it, I look around to make sure no one is watching, then slip into the room.
As soon as I step inside, the magic in the air floods my senses, my nose wrinkling up instantly.
The taste of iron is strong on my tongue and the smell in the air is very distinct.
Like burnt flowers, but I can’t tell what kind.
I scan the room, seeing that there is not a soul in here, but I guess that is the cause of the hysteria.
There was someone here, but now he is gone.
A glimmering light catches my eye as I turn back toward the bed.
I squint against the low lighting, noticing that the source of light is coming from the wall above the bed.
Once my eyes adjust, it looks like there is obsidian paint all across the wall.
I look closer at the shape it is forming and take a step back.
It is painted in the shape of a broken crown.
“This is what they leave every time,” Draven says.
I jump at his voice, turning to see that he is standing right behind me.
“Shit, you scared me. You can’t sneak up on me like that while I am in a room a man just disappeared from.”
“My apologies, I thought you heard someone come in. Also, you are supposed to be eating.”
“I got distracted by this.” I wave my hands in the air around me. “I heard screaming and I had to see what was going on. Plus, I need to actually know what is going on.”
I give him a pointed look.
Draven walks past me, his gaze locked on the wall behind the bed. He stands with his hands in his pockets as he stares, the muscle in his jaw tightens.
I shake my head. “Why do they leave this behind every time? What does it mean?”
He takes a deep breath.
“It is a magical signature, something most magic creates after it is used. I assume you noticed that it is in the shape of a broken crown.”
He raises his hand, motioning toward the wall.
“I guess displaying mockery, that they can just come right in and take our people right under our nose. It is clever, I will give them that,” he says.
Draven looks anything but amused. He looks almost angry. The anger only visible within his jaw and mouth.
I walk toward the bed, climbing on top of it.
Draven goes to grab my arm. “Wait, what are you doing?”
I shrug off his touch and continue to stand up on the bed until I am right in front of the signature.
Slowly, I reach up, brushing my fingers against what I thought was paint, but this is not paint at all. The symbol is quite literally carved into the wall. The lines move across and connect into its shape perfectly. Interesting.
The carving glitters within the obsidian color. I pull my fingers back, looking down as I see the iridescent residue that is left behind on my fingers. I lift it up to my nose sniffing. Once again tasting iron as the scent of burnt flowers floods my nostrils.
“They need to close the room off so we must go. I am going to stay behind so I can speak with the man’s mate. I will meet you in my study soon. You can go ahead up there if you’d like,” he says.
A dull ache settles in my chest. This woman lost her mate.
Draven reaches up, holding his hand out for me to grab. I place my hand in his as I jump off the bed.
“Okay, I will be waiting,” I say.
I try my best to not sound desperate for his arrival, but the words come out more frantic than intended.
As I leave Draven and the crowd behind, I cannot help but look over my shoulder one last time at the woman. Fear stirs deep in my chest.
Things in Vryko are not as they seem.
? ? ?
The walk to Draven’s wing comes much quicker to me this time, but the walk up the stairs does not. My already sore legs from today’s activities protested the entire way up. At the top, I have to once again lean against the wall to catch my breath.
I really need to eat or drink something.
As soon as I get my shit together, I continue my walk down the hallway. There is not a trace of life around me. I keep looking back behind me as I walk, paranoia wrapped around my every move. It quickly dissipates as I realize that I am in the prince’s private wing, alone.
It is certainly rude to snoop around his personal chambers.
So that is exactly what I will do.
I walk to each door, slowly opening them so I can peek inside. Each one opens with ease, leading to different sitting rooms and bourbon rooms.
I continue going from door to door until one of the doors I open makes me pause. When I peer inside, I see a bedroom. I glance down the hallway and all around me one last time, then slip inside.
The room is huge, glowing bright with candlelight and a fire in the hearth.
There is a sitting area to the left and a four-poster bed at the back wall that is even bigger than the one I have.
In fact, it is probably double in size. It is covered in a dark brown duvet with green and brown decorative pillows on top. It looks almost cozy.
How many other women have seen this bed?
I pause at the thought and wrinkle my brow, wondering why I would even think such a thing. I shake my head and continue to look around.
Tucked under the end of the bed is an oriental rug with different hues of green, reminding me a lot of a forest. Hung up on the walls are various paintings of forests, lakes, waterfalls, and ponds with the sun reflecting off of the surface.
On one wall, there is a portrait of a breathtaking woman.
My body freezes in place at first, but then I gather the courage to walk over and get a better look. I stand in front of the painting, gasping in realization.
The woman looks just like Draven.
She has the same deep black hair, straight nose, and devastating smile. Her eyes are soft, the shape and color identical to his, like honey in the sun.
Draven has never talked about his mother, and to my assumption, she is no longer alive. She will never know that she gave birth to a child who grew up to be just like her in looks and actions.
There is only one reason I know in my heart that Draven is like his mother. It is because of the sure knowledge that he is nothing like his father.
Walking away from the portrait, I see a large bookshelf with various books stacked on it.
Some of them are in another language I cannot read.
I pull one out, smiling to myself as I glance at the title, Folklore of the Fae.
It seems that I am not the only person who is entranced by the fae.
I place the book back on the shelf where I found it.
When I turn to continue to scan the room, I take in the colors and décor. There is not a single thing in here that is red. If anything, this does not look like a vampire’s room at all.
Moving on to the wardrobe next to the bookshelf, I pull on the handle to open it. I pause before I open it all the way, feeling like I am in the wrong.
I’ve invaded this man’s personal area already, so what does it hurt?
I open the door, scanning the different items of clothing hung up. Mostly simple T-shirts, button-up, and pants, all black or darkly colored. I touch each one as I pass my hand through, feeling the soft material.
To my own horror, I lean in and smell a shirt. It smells like fresh leather but also there is a hint of sweetness. I take another deep breath. The sweet scent reminds me almost of smoked vanilla. The smell is comforting and warm.
A door closes down the hall and I snap my head up. What in the hell am I doing. Talk about actually being a stalker now.
I close the wardrobe up, fast.
Sneaking over to the door, I very quietly crack it open and peer down the hall. I do not know how long I have been in here. I am supposed to be in the prince’s study, right about now.
When I am sure that I do not see anyone in the hallway, I sneak out of the room, closing the door softly behind me. I make my way down the hall to the study door and open it.
Draven is already in the room, sitting at his desk. Shit.
“Sorry, I had to stop at my room for something,” I lie as I step inside and close the door behind me.
Draven glances up from the paper he is reading. “That is okay, I just got here. I brought you some food.”
Draven waves his hand toward the coffee table in front of the seating area. I look over and tilt my head to the side. He did not just bring food. He brought an entire buffet.
Different decanters of blood sit on the table as well as a giant tray with various meats. I wince. It is almost like a vampire charcuterie board. How disturbing.
Draven clears his throat. “I did not know what you like, so I brought you some options.”
I nod. “Yes, you surely did. Thank you, I appreciate it.”
I sit down right as my stomach grumbles.
Picking up the blood first, I finish a glass of it in a few gulps and decide to have another.
I have to stop myself from eating so my stomach will not hurt, but everything tastes so good.
This is the first real meal I have been able to stomach in a long time.
Draven walks over and pours himself a glass. “Had enough?”
“Oh yeah. I think I had a little too much actually. Thank you again.”
“No such thing as a too much, and you needed it.”
I will not disagree with that.