Chapter 9
The allure of this lifeforce is beckoning, calling to all basic instincts.
I hold tightly to his hand, letting Cedric guide me through the various turns and stairs in the castle. My eyes sting from the subsiding tears. Cedric moves swiftly, occasionally turning back to check on me. I don’t ask where we’re headed because nothing really matters now, does it?
No, it doesn’t.
Everything in the castle blends together. Paintings, rugs, and sculptures bedeck the walls and alcoves. It’s like an art museum. The way the light from the sconces bounces off the pieces makes them look far more ancient and knowing. Like each piece of artwork is alive.
After rounding the last hallway, we approach a large set of doors, smaller than the room downstairs, but still large.
Cedric releases my hand, looking back with such sadness in his eyes that I almost can’t hold his gaze. He moves forward, pushing the doors open.
As we enter the room, I note it’s similar in decoration to the cottage.
Beautiful wood carved furniture and velvet textiles cover the space.
It feels more organic in here. Green vines wind around the canopy bed, bringing the place to life.
Vases of elys, the scent strong, lay on most open surfaces, filling the room with the enchanting air.
Cedric walks forward to the bed, trailing his fingers down the vines hanging from it.
“This room is beautiful,” I say, unsure how to speak to him, the king. I’ve treated him horribly, harmed him, disrespected him. I don’t even know how to act. Everything, even my own sense of self, is alien.
“You decorated it, after all,” he replies, looking around the space illuminated by moonlight.
I refrain from responding to that, from rejecting that.
Instead, I make my way to the vanity across from the bed.
Black-and-white marble twinkles with veins of silver under the natural light.
I brush my fingers across vials of perfume, a brush with her name – our name – and a mirror.
My eyes slowly move up to my own reflection. Deep red sections run along my face. With my light-colored hair next to it, it looks as pure as blood itself.
“My hair…” I reach for it and truly see the dark strands. Rubbing them between my fingers, I turn from it and move to the balcony overlooking the east grounds, the cottage just over the far hill. Smoke lightly billows from the chimney from my earlier fire.
A large whoosh and thud from behind startles me and I turn to the opposite wall, finding Cedric standing in front of a large painting.
I approach, noting his labored breathing and pained stance. A canvas sheet lies at his feet, the kind used to protect furniture from dust. What he is staring at is different than what I’ve seen in the halls of the palace.
A large portrait of me hangs before us. As big as the bed itself, bordered in a thick silver frame.
The frame is cast with stars and whorls, similar to the rest of the castle.
My body is posed from the waist up in a beautiful black gown.
The organza neckline hangs slightly off my shoulders, exposing porcelain skin and a diamond encrusted necklace.
My hair, as pale as my skin, is swept up into a regal coif.
The tiara fits snuggly in my hair, which has a crimson streak up the front, like his.
“This… is this…”
“He captured your likeness quite well. Yet, I find it hard to see you like this.” He stares up at the portrait.
“I found you, bloody and battered on the border between our kingdom and Duresden, a terrible place.” His eyes keep their intense focus on the portrait in front of us.
“You were…” He halts and clenches his jaw.
“You were barely alive. Barely alive for an immortal, which is terrifying in and of itself. You didn’t wake.
You didn’t stir, no matter the magic, the spells, the elixirs we concocted.
You laid asleep for two years. There was no magical signature on who did this, who left you there in that state.
Our enemy has been growing in his power, but we can’t accuse him of this without proof.
To do so would be larger than declaring war,” he continues. “As far as answers, we have none.”
I move to sit on the edge of the bed across from him, staring out the window as he places distance between us, folding his arms and leaning against the canopy. A slight breeze disturbs the vines and I take deep breaths, trying to make sense of everything.
“Cedric,” I start, his name feeling both right and wrong in my mouth. He looks over his shoulder. “There is a question that I have for you that I cannot… It haunts me.”
“Ask it,” he says, the moonlight silhouetting his form as he faces me. “I am at your disposal.”
I lick my lips and meet his stare. “Who am I to you?”
The question does not seem to surprise him.
In fact, his shoulders lower and he releases a breath.
“We are betrothed. Our parents wanted the match but besides that, we wanted it more.” His answer does not surprise me, either.
I have had my suspicions, my questions, but now the weight of my reality feels more heavy.
If I am her, Elivienne, how can I get back to that?
Cedric brought me here to remind me, to show me. What motivation does a king have to lie like this? To convince members of the court and castle that a commoner, a human, is the fiancée to a vampyr king? Even without those factors, much of my memory of the farm wavers like water.
“I just don’t remember,” I whisper.
“I know that now.”
“Truthfully, I barely believe that this is all real. That you are what you say you are.”
“A king,” he murmurs.
“No, a vampyr,” I say, turning to face him directly. Maroon orbs stare back. I thought they were a deep brown before, but they are truly red.
“You are, as well, if you haven’t figured it out by now.”
A vampyr.
“The blood at the cottage,” I start, shivering at the stark realization but he leaves no room for the shock.
“It was left courtesy of me. The cess thought you would favor human food, but I knew it wouldn’t suffice. You need to feed.”
“Feed?”
“Feed. Drink blood. Your weakness is mounting, I am sure.”
The mere suggestion is beyond twisted. Beyond anything natural and moral.
“I wouldn’t allow that – I wouldn’t sink my teeth into anyone, harm anyone.
” I could never be as cruel as I have seen him be since my arrival.
And yet, despite my disgust, my mouth has an undeniable reaction.
It waters subtly at the repellent idea. I can’t deny that my body has been acutely aware of blood since I woke, but it’s a new sensation I am not willing to accept. There must be a better explanation.
“There is nothing within me that would favor feeding from a live human.” I shake my head.
He hardens his face. “You won’t need to. Lux has reformed feeder laws. Everything you drink is ethically sourced and stored.” A hint of pride laces his words.
“And that is just normal? Sourcing blood from humans for our gain?”
“If you do not feed, you will die. Feeders exist to give us life. In exchange, we protect them, provide for them and reform for them. Vampyr can eat human food but it’s empty.
It does nothing to keep us alive. Just like a human can’t drink only wine or ale.
You’re both cess and vampyr, so while you can do both, it isn’t wise.
Trust when I say you’re most accustomed to blood. ”
“You mean that I am both things. How? I don’t see how that makes sense in a place with such clear divisions,” I say and look back up at the portrait.
“A rarity, yes. You are rare.”
I hold my palms before me. “The zaps,” I whisper. “I felt them at the cottage. The door, I mean. This feels impossible.”
He peers at my palms as well. “All of that feeling will not matter if you choose not to feed.”
Cedric reads this battle on my face and walks to a chest upon a glass case.
Cold air rushes out as he lifts the lid and bottles clink together.
He pulls out a bottle similar to the one that lay shattered on the floor of the cottage.
Easily, he uncorks it with his mouth and brings it over. “Do you smell it?”
My nostrils are once again reminded of the smells that overwhelm me everywhere I go. From the breeze on the grounds, the blood from the fight, the containers of it in the cottage. There is no denying it.
“Close your eyes; tell me what you smell.”
I turn to face the window again, placing my hands on my lap.
First, I smell the elys. Its scent gives me peace and joy, familiarity.
That scent is quickly replaced with wine, from Cedric.
Then I smell his blood, his essence coursing through his body.
Vampyr have heartbeats, and blood, obviously.
But there is so much that sets them apart that I can tell already.
They’re beautiful, nearly perfect and slightly taller than the average human.
They obviously bleed because I can recall the smell of his blood – fresh like a forest but with a rich spice, like cinnamon.
As soon as I recognize his blood, the scent of other blood overwhelms my throat as it had at the cottage. My mouth aches as if on cue.
“I can smell it,” I manage to say, gripping my nightgown to contain the energy surging through me. It feels as if it is urging me to move to its source immediately.
“Which blood? You have some on you, I can smell it,” he inhales deeply.
“Yours.”
He feels closer now. “You can drink the blood of other vampyr, but we only feed with human blood.”
“I also smell it on you,” I open my eyes.
“Oh,” he moves his hand through his messy locks. “The fight, we rolled around in some dropped chalices from the court. You need to feed, Liv,” he urges. I don’t miss the weight of my name on his tongue.
“And if I don’t?” I question, wondering about the alternative. If there is one.