by Sela Croft
He might do all the wrong things for the right reasons. And in a flash, I saw my purpose. He’d responded to me, listened to me. I was his softer side, his kinder half. His strength and power were indispensable. I just had to ensure that tolerance and compassion weren’t obliterated.
Draven wrapped me in his arms. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “The king will pay for this. You were terrorized and could have been killed. The grip of death reached out…” He looked into my eyes. “Death nearly stole you from me.”
I put my palm on his cheek. “But it didn’t. You protected me, just as you promised. I still live and breathe.” I kissed his lips. “I’m grateful you fought for me.” I took a breath. “I am safe.”
Draven wrapped me in his embrace. His love filled me; his strength reassured me. I held him tight, and he gradually relaxed against me. We were together, and there would be another day to love…to fight for the future.
CHAPTER 44 – CALINA
In our bed, I nestled into Nicolai’s strong arms. I’d enjoyed precious hours with him—touching, holding, making love—to compensate for all the time we’d missed. My fiancé was strong, virile, and I’d longed for him every second that he’d been away.
Nicolai brushed my hair back, then kissed my lips tenderly. It was a sweet kiss after an intense interlude. The blood share was so recent that I could taste his flavor on my tongue. “My love…” I didn’t know what to say after such intimacy.
“You’ve stolen my heart, darling,” Nicolai whispered.
“I thought I did that a long time ago.”
“It happens again every time we are together.” Nicolai brushed his thumb over my lips, and I drank in the sight of him.
Nicolai bent his arm to support his head. His long, dark hair was draped over the pillow. His steel-gray eyes were filled with emotion. He had kissable lips, a firm jaw, and a bit of scruff to add to his allure. He wore a silver ring in one earlobe.
I was drawn to him for his uniqueness. His good looks had a touch of rebel in them. And his personality was intriguing, as though he knew more than he shared. His career required serious dedication, yet his hours with me revealed a lighter side to him.
“Will our children look like you?” I said with a wry grin.
“I should hope they would look like you,” Nicolai said, “with your lovely blue eyes and your incomparable beauty.”
“For your daughters, yes.” I scrunched the pillow under my head. “But what about your sons?”
“I see that you are planning for a large family.”
“Any objections?”
“Not at all,” Nicolai said, and took my hand. “I plan to have many children.”
“That is why I sacrifice, and endure the long days without you,” I said. “So that you can do your part to make our kingdom safe, to end this awful war.”
Nicolai got up and pulled on some leathers. He walked barefoot over to the stone fireplace, then sat in his favorite chair. I slipped on a robe then joined him.
Our chambers were decorated in deeper tones, and the furniture was of heavy, dark wood. It was a masculine room and reminded me of Nicolai. The thick carpet and heavy drapes were in gold and red, and the sage-green walls were adorned with oil paintings of hunting scenes.
The artwork reminded Nicolai of his youth, and trips in the woods with his father. Beneath one of the paintings, there was a polished wood desk that was expertly carved, revealing its fine quality. Our bed had four dark wood posts carved into spirals that reached up to the silk canopy.
I sat in the chair next to Nicolai. “Are my sacrifices worth it?”
“I’ve recently reported some interesting facts,” Nicolai said. “The king has not been able to weed out all traitors from his ranks. Informants have shared details of where the royal troops will be, so that we may intercept.”
“Alban has intelligence leaks,” I said. “Even his own defy him.”
“There are those—even in the mountain region—who would be glad to see him dethroned.” Nicolai looked at me, his expression serious. “That might help to sway the odds in our favor, but I doubt it will be enough.”
“The Guardians will leap on any advantage and make the most of it,” I said. “We may yet have the peace we seek.” My faith in that had been shaken from too many years of strife. Yet I could hope. I cherished the last few minutes we had together, so didn’t speak any more of war.
When Nicolai prepared to leave, my heart saddened. There was much to be done, and his next mission waited. The dangers he faced in venturing into enemy territory were many. Each time he left the warmth of our home, I was acutely aware that he might not return.
Nicolai dressed and packed what he’d need. Then he pulled me into a loving embrace. “I will return to you,” he said. “You are my life…my love.” He lingered when his lips touched mine. Then he moved to the door, glancing at me before he disappeared.
Fully clothed, I stretched out on the bed, and my heart ached. I was alone while my love was headed into the enemy camp. I hugged the pillow where Nicolai had rested his head and breathed in his scent. I wanted him near me, filling his role as a husband and a wonderful father.
Yet our plans were on hold until the turmoil that swirled around us was subdued. I’d considered marrying Nicolai without delay, wanting so badly to embrace our future. But I waited, unsure what each day held, and praying that our children would see a better world.
When the war ended, Nicolai would resign from intelligence work. He’d promised to be at home with me, and I had no aspirations of being a military wife. The separations were too much to endure, and I looked forward to a time when I’d have Nicolai beside me.
Each time he left, Nicolai put his life at risk. The stakes were high. Our future, and that of the family we wanted, depended on the outcome of the war. The information garnered from behind the lines was vital. It was a role that had to be filled, and Nicolai was good at it.
I hugged Nicolai’s pillow tight and closed my eyes. I tried to envision him returning to me, but the rawness of the separation was too fresh. I couldn’t put aside the agony of the loss. I asked for one thing: that he come home safely. I could survive as long as he came back unharmed.
I brushed aside my trepidations and reflected on the chances of winning. The Guardians were strong, able fighters with many talents. And they fought to support good against evil. Surely, fate would give them a hand and see that victory was theirs.
I drifted into reverie and a vision surfaced. I hadn’t had one recently, so relaxed into the experience. Any insight into the future would be helpful. Stunning scenes unfolded before my eyes.
Alban was dressed in white and kneeled on the marble floor of his religious room. His bowed his head and prayed to gods who didn’t appear. But I could tell that his plea was to dark gods, those who supported the death he worshipped.
The images shifted to the Guardians, and the tone was more positive. Nicolai’s intelligence about where Alban’s troops would attack had been relayed. A strategy was formed to make the best use of that information. It was an inspiring moment, as it might be possible to catch Alban’s vampire soldiers off guard.
At the border of the mountain region, a battle scene unfolded. Black-uniformed royal soldiers poured from the mountains like a sea of monsters. They were ominous and frightening, seemingly unstoppable. In tight formation, they descended toward the coastal region.
My pulse raced as I watched the Royal Army move, slowly and steadily toward their target. Ahead was a faction of Guardians, and my heart sank as I watched the royals march toward them. With sheer force and in great numbers, they could overcome.
Then the image shifted. I calmed my breathing as I watched the events unfold. From all sides, factions of Guardians closed around the royals. Before the behemoths could react, Draven’s soldiers were upon them. The royals were outnumbered.
Two or three Guardians at a time attacked each royal. It took that many to carve them up and behead the drea
ded ones. It was a bloody scene, with monstrous vampires falling left and right. The Guardians were bleeding too, yet fighting at their best.
The gory battle raged on. There were so many royals, nearly too many to kill. Yet the Guardians fought valiantly, unrelenting—until the royals began to retreat. My heart soared. Could it be? Had our army intimidated Alban’s monsters and driven them back?
The Royal Army withdrew, and, having expended much energy, the Guardians didn’t pursue them. Monster vampire bodies littered the ground, and blood seeped into the dirt. Severed heads indicated heavy losses for the royals.
It had been three Guardians to every royal soldier, and that was what it had taken to overcome. The royals were too large and weighed too much to be easily bested in a fight. They were more like tanks than men.
What I’d witnessed had lifted my spirits. It was possible to defeat the Royal Army—if we had enough soldiers. The slaughter of death’s supporters had been invigorating, showing that goodness could win after all. The king wasn’t a god, despite claiming to be one. His army could be taken, and the king could be unseated. It would be a long, bloody battle, but it could be done. I’d just seen how.
It made me wonder how the king would react. The heavy casualties would surely dampen his enthusiasm for attacking and make him see that victory was not assured. The vision continued, and I waited to see what would happen.
I’d observed from the battle that the Guardians were learning. The encounters taught them the weaknesses of the Royal Army. The dark creatures that Alban had created were a formidable force. They fought like the monsters they were, using excessive size and strength. But there was no evidence that they could adapt. Confronted with an unexpected attack, the royal vampires had resorted to force without thought.
Military secrets had leaked, giving the Guardians an advantage. That revealed that Alban could not count on loyalty among his troops. It seemed his forces obeyed his commands out of fear and due to threat. But their loyalty could be swayed—if it existed at all.
An army run by fear was vulnerable. If the Guardians became the greater terror, Alban’s troops might abandon support for him. There was more to war than just force against force. More played into the motivation of the armies, and the willingness to risk it all for the cause.
It occurred to me that the royal vampires may not support Alban’s cause at all. Protecting their own lives may be their only motivation behind their drive to fight the king’s bloody battles. It was like a castle without a foundation that could be toppled if hit hard enough.
Yet I digressed, possibly seeing more than was there—seeing what I so desperately wanted to see. Images filled my mind. Alban was no longer on his knees, and no longer wearing white. He sat upon his ebony throne, looming above his commanders.
His pale face contorted with rage, and those in his presence trembled before him. I watched to see if he was disheartened by the heavy casualties. I was anxious to observe his reaction, to know if the lost battle had deflated his arrogance.
The generals gave their full report. The king’s red eyes flared with hatred, and he gripped the staff of his scepter. I held my breath as the event unfolded. This was the future. My vision was of a battle that would come.
Now I would know the king’s reaction and tell Draven what he could look forward to. The king stood, glaring at his generals. I waited in anticipation. Then the king spoke, and I listened…amazed at what I heard.
The vision ended, so I opened my eyes, trying to reorient. I slid from the bed and paced the floor. It had all been very traumatic, but I’d had a chance to peek into the future and to see what was to come. My vision was a gift, and my talent was valuable in times such as these.
I’d share all I knew with Draven. He’d know what to do. I’d been away with Nicolai a while. It was time to return to the castle and relay all I’d learned.
At the castle, I met with Draven and Mirela in the library. Before I could relay my news, I listened to what had happened out on the battlefield. My brother was quite animated in telling the tale.
“It’s infuriating,” Draven said. “Vampires throughout the kingdom seek to support Alban. Enemies abound, and many believe the king’s promises, his vow to uphold tradition, and ensure the realm’s future.”
Mirela shook her head. “I don’t understand why they can’t see the bleak future that’s ahead if the king achieves victory.”
I sensed that Mirela had changed. She looked different, as though she’d seen something that had deeply affected her. And she looked at my brother in a way that she hadn’t before. I’d need to get her alone and find out. I was certain that she wouldn’t share, unless we spoke privately.
Draven paced the carpet, clenching his fists. “It’s intolerable. Mirela was attacked. She’s a woman, for god’s sake. Have they no decency?”
“Are you listening to yourself?” I said. “Of course they don’t. Those who follow in the shadow of death can’t claim a shred of decency.”
“We are holding the royals back so far,” Draven said. “But I don’t know how long that will be the case.”
“Your army is strong,” Mirela said. “Your commanders are smart. I have confidence you can outdo whatever Alban has planned.”
“But you haven’t fought for centuries, as I have,” Draven said. “The king is ruthless. He has no limit to his bludgeoning of all that is good. And he will use any method he can to grab victory.”
“You’re upset because Mirela was endangered,” I said. “You cannot let that darken your spirits, or credit Alban with more ability to succeed than he may have.”
“I would welcome a reason to think otherwise,” Draven said. “If you know something I don’t, now is the time to tell me.”
I leaned forward in my chair, and Draven sat next to Mirela. “I’ve had a vision.”
Draven frowned. “Your last one foretold the worst, with royal soldiers crawling over the hills to our castle…with the outcome appearing bleak.”
“Yes, that is true.” I took a breath. “I envisioned that as one of the final battles. But, as you know, the outcome was not revealed.”
Draven put his arm around Mirela, as if to protect her. “What is this new vision?”
“It is of the future, but of a battle that will occur well before any final encounters,” I said.
“That is something I need to know,” Draven said. “I only hope you didn’t see the battle without knowing the result.”
“Be patient, brother,” I said. “I believe that this vision will be more useful to you.”
Draven and Mirela looked at me, alert to whatever I had to say.
“It is a battle that will occur at our border in the foreseeable future,” I said. I proceeded to recount the images from my vision. I detailed each moment of the battle that I could recall, taking care not to skip over any of the bloody deaths of the royal soldiers.
I talked for some time, making sure that I covered all the important details. Then I lingered over the image of Alban and seeing him in his palace room, with his generals at his feet.
“Surely, the heavy casualties will send a message,” Draven said, appearing encouraged.
“It is a good sign,” Mirela said.
I leaned back, gripping the arms of the chair. “From the vision, I witnessed what Alban’s reaction will be. I watched as his generals confessed their defeat. I fully expected him to be discouraged, at least concerned.”
Draven furrowed his brow. “What did the king do?”
I swallowed. “Alban took revenge on his own troops.” I hesitated. “Those who fought in the battle but retreated were executed. He ordered his commanders to do the deed immediately.”
My statement was met with silence.
“The king was not discouraged, but quite the opposite,” I said. “He was bent on death more than ever.”
“He is doing our job for us by wiping out his own army,” Draven said.
Mirela didn’t have anything to offer.
&n
bsp; “Not in his mind. The king told his generals that all traitors, meaning those who fail in battle, are to be executed as routine. That would send a message, and his soldiers would learn quickly to win. He would not tolerate weakness.”
Draven shook his head. “He hasn’t changed, only become worse,” Draven said. “He must be in control and will not admit it if he is not. Anything that counters his perfect self-image is rejected.”
“It’s as though the king refuses to view reality,” Mirela said.
“More than that,” Draven said. “He cannot accept any reality that is in conflict with the one he wants.”
“And he’s as murderous as ever,” I said. “Alban despises any perceived weakness. He sees losing a battle as exactly that…as if it was a personal betrayal.”
The king’s ability to remain undaunted—even in the face of defeat—would either be his path to victory or his undoing. “I had hoped to be more encouraging,” I said. “I fear that my visions continue to foretell of gloom and an untenable future.”
Draven stood, a determined look in his eyes. “You have told me what you can. It is up to me now. I will meet with my generals and trust that a look to the future will give them insight as to how to proceed. We have not been defeated yet…and we won’t be.” He squared his shoulders. “There must be a way to guide my forces into victory, because I refuse to accept any other fate.”
CHAPTER 45 - SELENE
I teleported from the king’s palace to return to my cottage. I needed a break from all the aggravation. For all I cared, Alban could stand in the middle of his religious room waiting for me answer until the end of time.
The king had gotten on my bad side by roaring a demand at me. Asking politely would have gone over better. That didn’t mean I would have done as he asked. I did what I decided based on my view of the situation. And Alban hadn’t convinced me that it was wise to hand Mirela over to him.
Quite the opposite: Alban’s behavior made me reluctant to be in his presence myself, much less present anyone else to him. Whatever he had in mind would be bad. And in this case, he’d confessed that he planned to kill Mirela.