Chapter 7 #3
His meaning was clear. Rasimir meant for me to drink Alon. To sink my fangs into him and drain his blood. The servant was fatally injured. I’d assisted Mama enough times to know there was no surviving those arrows. Not near the spine. Not embedded that deeply in the muscle. Alon was dying.
He was supposed to. I was supposed to finish him.
“I can’t,” I said, more sweat dampening my back.
“He’ll pull me with him.” Drinking from someone who was actively dying was madness.
As the life force left them, the vampire risked getting sucked into death, too.
But that wasn’t the only danger. Feeding deeply meant absorbing a victim’s memories.
Good and bad, they flowed through blood like water through a broken dam.
Memories taken from the living faded with time.
But a dying person’s memories clung like desperate fingers, refusing to let go.
Vampire after vampire had been driven insane by the accumulated weight of stolen lives, their minds fracturing under the pressure of experiences they had no right to possess.
It’s one of the few rules vampires follow , my mother had said.
Never drink the dying. She hadn’t reminded me in a long time.
Because she never expected me to try something so stupid.
Rasimir’s eyes glittered, and when he spoke, his voice held winter’s chill.
“That’s a myth. The servant is of Nocta.
His blood contains power. The only way to harness it is to drink him as he fades.
We grow stronger when we take power from others.
I have done this, as have others among my court. As my heir, you will do the same.”
Fear was a vise around my chest. The courtiers were utterly still as they watched, waiting to see if I would defy the king.
All of Nocta bows before King Rasimir. He’d conquered everyone. Lorcan. The witches. The trolls and werewolves. The centaur I’d seen on the road. The pixies who glared at Vander like he was the enemy.
Because he was. Vander worked for my father, and my father was exactly what everyone on both sides of the Feyline claimed. A monster.
“I won’t tell you again,” Rasimir said. His pupils expanded, bleeding black across his irises until no trace of green remained. When he blinked again, his eyes were solid black. He’d been truthful. He drank the beings of Nocta to death so he could steal their power. He was a monster.
And he was mad.
I slid off my horse, the courtiers’ stares crawling over my skin.
As I walked toward Alon on numb legs, it was worse than being collared on Cyprio’s stage.
I’d nearly been stripped naked then. I might as well have been naked now, my fear and heartache laid bare.
I had no idea how to steal Alon’s power, whatever it was.
I was more likely to die than harness his gifts. And if I survived, what would I become?
My skirts dragged on the ground, catching twigs and leaves, but I couldn’t be bothered to lift them.
Blood spattered the leaves around Alon. Tiny rivers of it trickled from the arrowheads lodged in his body.
Absently, I remembered that arrow wounds didn’t bleed much on the outside. The damage was always internal.
Alon’s head was turned to the side, his eyes closed. I knelt beside him and touched his shoulder with a shaking hand.
“Alon,” I whispered.
Moss-green eyes blinked open. Recognition filled them, followed by something that might have been relief. “I can’t move, Your Highness. I think my spinal cord is severed.”
Tears burned my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. But…could you roll me over before you feed? I’d like to see the trees.”
A tear streaked down my cheek. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Please, Your Highness. Please, it’s—”
“I will,” I said quickly. “I’ll do it.” I scrubbed my hands over my eyes and then gripped his shoulder.
“No!” When I froze, he offered a weak, apologetic smile. “You’ll have to snap the arrow shafts first, Your Highness.”
My throat burned, and my voice trembled as I said, “Of course. I’m sorry.” My hand shook as I grasped a slender shaft of wood. Gritting my teeth, I snapped it just above the arrowhead.
Alon screamed and I flinched, tears dripping from my chin. Panting, Alon nodded. “All right. Now the others.”
I snapped the arrow shaft in his buttock, then the one behind his knee. While he was still writhing, I flipped him as quickly as I could.
He panted on his back, his eyelids fluttering. Something rustled, and I stiffened. A second later, tiny green vines wove through his hair.
My breath hitched, and I watched, spellbound, as the vines threaded in and out of the light brown strands. Striations appeared on Alon’s skin, the lines almost like…
I looked at a nearby tree. When I turned my gaze back to Alon, his eyes were open and a soft smile curved his lips.
“I’m ready, Your Highness. The forest has come for me.”
I laced my fingers with his. “You’re a dryad.”
“Yes.” He closed his eyes, a sigh lifting his chest. “I never should have left.” His eyes fluttered open, and now tiny leaves tumbled through them. “Do it now, Princess, while my power is flowing.”
“I can’t,” I whispered.
“You can.” He offered another sweet smile, and he squeezed my hand. “Most people are capable of far more than they realize.”
I wasn’t. I was a fool. Greed had landed me here.
Greed and an all-consuming need to reach for things better left untouched.
If I hadn’t longed for the tiara in Cyprio’s cart, I wouldn’t have touched silver.
If I hadn’t sneaked out of the cottage looking for the dragonstone dress, Cyprio wouldn’t have captured me.
Vander wouldn’t have found me. I never would have set foot in Nocta. Never crossed Rasimir’s path.
And Alon wouldn’t be dying on the forest floor.
His brow creased. “Please, Your Highness. It hurts.”
I bent my head. The scent of his blood—sweet-smelling and tinged with something wild and green—filled my nostrils. I waited, but my fangs wouldn’t descend. The monster inside me was silent. Dormant.
The crunch of leaves brought my head up. Lorcan strode toward us, his perfect face a mask of arrogance. He stripped off his gloves as he neared, and he tossed me an irritated look as he dropped to one knee on the opposite side of Alon.
“Sorry to interrupt this touching scene, but some of us have duties to attend to.” Without preamble, Lorcan bared his fangs and plunged his head to Alon’s neck.
My cry of outrage caught in my throat. Alon jolted when Lorcan struck, but now he gazed at the sky. Leaves fell faster in his eyes. More vines crept through his hair, and the lines in his skin deepened.
Lorcan’s throat worked as he drank. Without warning, his smooth voice echoed around me. Don’t show compassion. He’ll see it as a weakness, and weak things don’t survive long in this court.
My lips parted. I stared at Lorcan, shock pounding through me. He’d spoken. I heard it. But it was impossible. He couldn’t talk while he drank. And yet, I’d heard him clearly.
Because he’d spoken in my head. And there was no mistaking the “he” Lorcan referenced.
Rasimir.
Lorcan had given me a warning. I was still grappling with the revelation when his voice echoed in my head again.
Say nothing after I finish. Keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told.
Alon’s chest rattled. Moss-green eyes found mine. Thank you , he mouthed. The leaves in his eyes faded, then disappeared.
Lorcan wrenched upright, blood spilling down his chin. Drops fell to his jacket and sank into the fabric.
Most of the court prefers to wear black , Delphine had said. Of course. It hid the blood.
I let my shoulders slump as Lorcan stood and withdrew a black cloth from his pocket.
He was dabbing his lips when Rasimir and Vander approached.
Vander stopped just behind the king, his hands behind his back and his handsome features arranged in the same emotionless mask he’d worn when Rasimir toasted me over blood-wine and cake.
I lowered my gaze, but I held my chin high enough to keep the men in view.
Rasimir flicked glossy black eyes from me to Lorcan. “Did you get anything?”
Lorcan gave Alon’s body a look of mild distaste before lowering his head and wiping smears of blood from his hands. “An affinity for tree bark. Nothing of value. Hopefully it’ll pass quickly.”
My father turned to Vander. “You said she was capable.”
Vander kept his gaze straight ahead. “The princess had a long journey, Majesty. And she’s new to Nocta.”
Somewhere in my mind, I knew I should be begging for my life.
Rasimir was likely to kill me for failing to drain Alon.
But as I huddled on the forest floor with Alon’s blood seeping into my skirts, I couldn’t bring myself to plead for mercy.
I wasn’t capable . I wasn’t even a vampire.
Rasimir would have to find another heir.
And my head would probably end up on a pike, just like the pixie woman warned on the road.
Unless I managed to escape. A wise woman builds her house away from the cliff’s edge. Even if Rasimir had a change of heart and decided I was competent after all, I wanted no part of Nocta. I would never be his bloody heir.
Rasimir’s gaze fell on me. He stared for a moment before looking at Lorcan. “Your gallantry is admirable, my prince. And appropriate, given the circumstances.”
Lorcan still wiped his hands, and he replied without looking up. “I am your servant, Majesty.”
The king turned to the courtiers behind him and spread his arms wide.
His voice boomed. “I was going to wait until tonight’s feast to make this announcement, but I find myself too impatient to delay.
In three months’ time, when summer ends and autumn is upon us, we shall celebrate a wedding in Nocta. ”
I jerked my head up. My heart skipped a beat.
“Prince Lorcan will wed my daughter, Corinthe of Nocta.”
The courtiers erupted in cheers and applause.
Icy dread slid down my spine. Slowly I looked at Lorcan, and at last he lifted his head. His eyes were solid black, with no trace of white. As I held his stare, I knew my father had been honest about something else.
Rasimir wasn’t the only vampire who courted madness for power. Lorcan drained immortals to death, too.
And in three months, I had to marry him.