Chapter 6 #2
I might not pass for nobility, but at least there was no blood on my face tonight. I shuddered, the sickening squelch that had signaled Ewan’s death ringing in my ears.
“Finn.”
My breath caught in my chest at the sight of the King.
He wore a fine navy coat with fur trim at the neck.
His black hair was pulled back at the crown.
The role of king suited him, self-assurance radiating off of him like heat from a smoldering log.
I dropped into a curtsy. He approached, smiling, and offered me his arm. “I’m so glad you came. Sit with me?”
I nodded silently, my tongue seemingly glued to the roof of my mouth.
I slipped my arm beneath his, my fingers brushing his sleeve.
He led me to a stone bench where we sat surrounded by night-blooming roses.
The palace gardens were home to the most magnificent array of flowers, expertly curated by the royal groundskeeper.
My eyes traced the sharp points of their thorns.
There were so few flowers in Wealdstone, as nearly all our water had to be reserved for crops.
I realized the King was watching me and ducked my chin, flushing.
“It’s a shame that we were brought together under such dreadful circumstances,” he said pensively. “It seems that I arrived just in time.”
The memory of Ewan’s disembodied remains gave me pause.
I could see him clearly in my mind. The vacant, terrifying look in his eyes.
The dark stains on his coat that resembled the dried bloodstains on my own uniform.
I’d shoved it into a drawer upon returning to my bedchamber this morning, too exhausted to bring it to Sigrid.
Whose blood had been on Ewan’s cloak? His own? Or the missing girl’s?
I took a deep breath. “If I may, Your Majesty, what’s going to be done about the blacksmith’s apprentice?”
“I dispatched a patrol from my guard shortly after we returned to the castle to clean up the mess,” he replied simply.
I grimaced. “That’s very, er, prudent of you. However, I meant what’s going to be done about the other missing girl?”
“So, you’ve heard about that.”
I nodded. “I thought that perhaps the attacks were connected. Folk in the city are on edge.”
“So I’m told. I’m afraid it’s beginning to spin out of control,” he said pensively. “Unfortunately, when you’re king, you come to understand that this kind of thing is far more common than you think. Especially between quarreling friends or lovers.”
My skin burned. Violence was not unfamiliar to me, and more than one husband in Wealdstone had beaten his wife without fear of reproach.
Still, I had the King’s ear now, and curiosity smoldered in my chest like an ember.
“I know what it’s like to suffer loss,” I admitted.
“I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain upon anyone.
If it would help, I’d be happy to speak with the captain of your guard.
Perhaps something I saw could help find the girl, or at least bring closure to her family. ”
A beat passed between us. “You have no idea how refreshing it is to have a conversation with someone whose greatest care in the world is not for themselves.” He inclined his head.
“I will put my best people on it,” he promised.
“Like you said, the least we can do is to provide some closure to her family.”
My voice came out in a whisper. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he said. “How’s your head, by the way?”
“Better,” I said. “Dr. Murrows’s tonic helped.”
He paused, concern etched into his handsome features. “You’re unable to heal yourself?”
I flushed. “I’m afraid I’m not very practiced in healing.”
He was silent for a moment. “What sort of magic are you practiced in?”
I blinked up at him, surprised by the sudden change in conversation. “I’m not used to speaking of it so openly, Your Majesty. But I’m rather good at enchantments, like what you saw with the broom. Simple illusions, too.”
“And what about psychal magic? Are you able to get a sense of others’ feelings? See into their thoughts?”
“I’m quite sensitive to others’ desires and emotions,” I admitted.
“I imagine that you’re using psychal magic without realizing it,” he said. “As if your targets have forgotten to close the door to their innermost thoughts, and you’ve peered in.”
“It’s rare, though, and never intentional.” I swallowed, unsure if I’d said the right thing.
“I promise I’m not trying to interrogate you, it’s perfectly natural,” he said.
“It is?” I asked.
He nodded. “Many vampires can do the same, even if they’re unpracticed. It’s an instinct inherited from our ancestors. I assume it’s the same for witches.”
“I didn’t know that vampires had magic.”
“It’s a different kind, although I would defer to an expert to explain the differences to you,” he said as if sensing my next question.
He flashed a grin, the tips of his fangs visible in the moonlight. “I have a confession,” he continued. “I do not think that we crossed paths in the early hours of this morning purely by chance.”
My brow furrowed. He’d said something to that effect in Dr. Murrows’s study. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, Your Majesty.”
“An idea came to me recently,” he continued. “Did you know that it used to be commonplace for a witch to sit on the royal council?”
I shook my head.
“There are so few of you left that the tradition was lost nearly a thousand years ago,” he explained.
“How, er, fascinating, Your Majesty,” I said.
He smiled softly. “I’ve heard stories about the mages who sat on my distant grandfather Fane’s council over one thousand years ago. Zaneth the Wise, for example. He held his seat for over three hundred years.”
I balked. “Three hundred? How can that be?”
The King chuckled. “King Fane himself ruled for over seven centuries, you know.”
My palms went clammy. “But King Fane was a vampire,” I whispered. “And I’m only six and twenty.”
“I believe eight hundred years is a normal lifespan for your kind.”
His words lanced through me like a blade. How could it be?
“As I was saying,” King Mordric continued, “Zaneth was instrumental in brokering peace between Valen and the Kingdom of Borges during the borderland skirmishes of the year 560.”
His voice faded into a distant buzzing in my ears. Eight hundred years. Would I age as slowly as a vampire? Only earning the first of my wrinkles after five hundred years? I brushed my fingertips over the smooth skin at the corners of my eyes. By that time, everyone I knew would be long gone.
Except for the vampires.
I glanced up at the King, who appeared blissfully unaware that he’d lost my attention. I forced myself to focus on his words, shoving my shock deep down.
“The way my father told the story, Zaneth was able to use his power to see into the mind of the Borgian king without even leaving Valnar. You see, Borgian crops had failed across their kingdom earlier that year, and the only fertile soil within their reaches was in disputed borderlands. And so, as often happens in times of panic, violence ensued. Their king, of course, refused to ask for aid outright. However, once Zaneth was able to unearth the information hidden in the man’s mind, he devised a plan to appease the Borgians without forfeiting any of our lands.
As such, it was through cunning, rather than force, that he was able to bring an end to the bloodshed. ”
“I never thought that magic could be useful in that way,” I said.
His gaze dropped to meet mine. “Because you haven’t been given the chance.”
I stilled, locked in his obsidian stare. “I suppose,” I said, my words a whisper.
He leaned toward me, causing my breath to catch in my chest. “Finn, I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and I’d like to reinstate the tradition.”
“Your Majesty?”
“I’d like to hire you.”