Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
JUST A GAME
But as I think this, I’m already moving.
I fling myself towards the wall, reaching out, tapping into that extra sense of seeing in the dark that Joaquin helped me unleash.
My hand closes over the hilt of a sword and I pull it free, swinging it in front of me.
It’s so much lighter than the practice blade that it feels almost effortless, the steel part of me.
There’s a curse. A hand closes around my throat, pinning me to the wall.
My heart pounds, adrenalin coursing through me like lightning.
There are thuds outside the room, more shouting.
The hand around my throat tightens, lifting me so my feet leave the floor.
Fetid breath fans across my face, the scent of violets.
Gasping, I change my grasp on the sword hilt.
I think of Michael, his hands gentle on mine, taking me through the motion of the strike. And I bring the blade up, hard.
There’s a scream. Liquid spatters my feet, and I slide down the wall as my attacker releases me.
The door flies open with a crash. ‘Emelia!’ Joaquin’s voice is a howl of rage. Faint golden light from the hallway illuminates a scene of devastation.
I’m sprawled, panting, in a pool of rapidly spreading blood. A black-clad vampire is curled next to me, groaning, bleeding heavily from a deep wound to his stomach. I can’t seem to move, or breathe, gripping my sword so tightly the hilt cuts into my fingers.
Joaquin glances from me to the other vampire, surprise flashing in his dark gaze.
I realise, with a start, that it’s one of Joaquin’s entourage, faint light catching his jade earring.
With a growl Joaquin picks him up, tearing him limb from limb in an absolute frenzy.
Blood sprays, and I flinch from it, sobbing.
There are a lot of guards around us now.
One tries to take my sword, but I don’t want to let go. Then I hear my father’s voice.
‘Where is she?’
He enters the room, eyes widening as he takes in the gore spattered up the walls. He crouches next to me, cupping my chin. I flinch, despite his gentle touch.
‘Emelia.’ His voice is so soft. ‘Look at me.’
I wrench my gaze from the horrors around me.
I’m shaking so much my teeth chatter, but I don’t know if that’s because I’m sitting in a pool of blood.
I focus on my father, on his lean features, his eyes filled with love, the small crease between his eyebrows that I know means he’s worried about me. My breath starts to slow.
Guards mill around us, removing the body, bringing in cloths to soak up the blood. Joaquin squats nearby, his hands dangling between his legs, his expression distant. I suppose he’s just lost a friend. I still don’t really understand what happened.
My father gently uncurls my stiff fingers from the sword. He lays it to one side, his eyes never leaving mine. ‘You’re safe now. Will you let me help you stand?’
I nod. He takes my hands in his and rises, bringing me with him. I shudder as my skirt touches my legs, the damp folds sticky. I retch suddenly, reminded of Jessie, the scent of violets sickening. My father holds me up, rubbing my back.
‘Can you walk?’
Another nod. I will not be carried. Not here.
‘What in darkness is this!’ Varin’s voice. ‘Prince Joaquin, what has happened here?’
Yes, Joaquin. Why did one of your entourage attack me?
‘It was a prank, gone horribly wrong.’ Joaquin’s voice is strained. ‘As soon as I heard about it, I came here. But not quickly enough for my darling.’
A prank? His voice fades as my father takes me into the hallway.
What’s left of another of Joaquin’s minions is there, a broken twisted thing, more blood soaking into the deep carpets.
Bertrand sits on the floor, his back to the wall, two guards helping him.
There’s a cut on his head, his nose a purple bruise.
When he sees me his whole expression crumples.
‘I’m all right,’ I say, my voice a whistle of breath. My neck hurts where I was grabbed, my shoulders aching from being slammed into the wall. But I need to let him know it wasn’t his fault. It was no prank, either. If I hadn’t been able to defend myself, I’d be dead.
‘I did it,’ I say to my father, my voice still a wheeze.
‘What did you do?’ His arm is strong around me, holding me up.
‘The M-Morningstar. Moves eight and thirteen.’ I think of Michael, his hands covering mine, his chest against my back, his heat and scent all around me. I’m suddenly desperate to see him. It must be the shock.
‘Varin has taught you well.’ My father’s voice catches, and I feel his kiss on my hair. ‘But now we must get you cleaned up, before your mother returns and sees you like this.’
Oh God. My mother. I’m not sure what she would have done if she’d been here. I shudder, and my father quickens his pace, lifting me. My skirt is unpleasantly heavy against my legs, and all I can smell is violets. Darkness, is my room truly this far away?
‘Will Bertrand be all right?’
‘He will. His pride bruised, perhaps, more than anything.’
‘Guards on me doubled, I guess. Or tripled. Maybe he’ll just wrap me in cotton wool or make me move into the fortified rooms.’ It helps to joke about things. But I’m shaking like a leaf, and know that when I close my eyes, I’ll see blood and darkness.
My father comes into my room with me, taking a seat on the long chaise. ‘I’ll wait while you clean yourself up.’
I nod, heading into my bathroom, my hands trembling so much I can barely undo my dress.
I step into the shower still clothed, not wanting to get any more blood on the grey tiles.
I step out of my dress, stripping off my underwear as I gradually warm up.
I remember another bathroom, another moment of violence, rusty stains disappearing in a swirl down the drain.
Blood. It shapes my entire existence. Who has it, what type they have, whether or not it holds magic. It decides whether we’re food or nobility. Whether we’re strong, or weak. Yet it’s something we all have in common.
I lean against the wall, once again feeling as though something is eluding me, some key that will help me make this work, help me create a world where vampires and humans can live side by side, safely.
I soap my skin, let heat take the ache from my shoulders, calm the tremors in my limbs. But it can’t touch the sorrow in my heart. Running separate courts, day and night, won’t return things to how they used to be. We cannot go back. We need to go forward. If only I can figure out how.