by Brandt, Eva
“I had no idea plagues could do such things,” Malachai replied.
“That’s because they can’t, not normally,” Inquisitor Lindberg answered. “To my knowledge, Vandale himself has never done it before. He tends to absorb the lives of his victims or use more old-fashioned methods, usually involving air magic of some kind. But the abilities of the Accursed always twist and mutate. Never mind the reasons now. I’ll try to help Prince Darius, but you need to retreat and stay out of range.”
I should have done exactly that. Inquisitor Lindberg was without a doubt far more qualified to help his superior than I would ever be. For the better part of my life, I had believed I was only a human, and just because I’d found out that wasn’t true didn’t mean I could suddenly go toe to toe with a guy who could come back from the dead.
But Darius’s screams echoed Pierce’s earlier ones and I refused to be pushed away again.
Mind magic. Astral projection. That was something I’d done before. My barely-there skills might not make much of a difference, but if I could distract Vandale, if only for a moment, it might give Prince Darius the chance to fight back or open the path for Inquisitor Lindberg’s approach.
The decision cleared my head, and I forced my racing heart to settle. I didn’t have the time to curl into a ball or visualize myself in a comfortable setting, so I’d just have to do without.
The peace of mind came of its own accord. Somewhere at the back of my consciousness, the image of a glowing ocean emerged, so very familiar, welcoming and true. Green light enveloped my body and I flashed through time and space, straight into the psyche of the man who was my enemy.
It should have been harder to reach him, but his mind was wide-open to me. It might’ve been because he wasn’t really trying to keep anyone out, and instead, had actively lured Darius into a trap. Either way, I followed them, and when I became conscious of my surroundings once again, I appeared to be on a beach of some kind.
The sand was white, and as I took a step forward, skulls and bones stirred underneath my feet. A sickening scent filled my nostrils, more familiar than I would have liked to admit. The waves made no sound as they came into contact with the shore, and for a few seconds, the terrifying silence made me wonder if I’d gone deaf.
And then, I heard it, a soft haunting melody, coming from somewhere beyond the rocks to my right. Despite knowing I shouldn’t, I followed the sound. The language was strange, unlike anything I’d ever heard before, and yet, somehow familiar. The mellow tone held something both soothing and mournful, and the depth of the emotion in the song made my heart clench.
It wasn’t just a random melody. No, it was a lullaby, although I wasn’t sure how I knew that. I couldn’t understand any of the words, and the flow of the song was nothing like the few lullabies I was familiar with.
It was only when I walked past the rocks that I realized the answer to my question. Right. I was in Vandale’s mind and he was obviously aware of the nature of the song. My unceremonious attack on his consciousness must’ve transferred the knowledge into me. Not that said knowledge helped me much, considering the fact that I’d just run into Vandale himself, interrupting his unexplainable, if beautiful performance.
Vandale was seated on a pile of corpses, holding Darius’s body in his arms in an almost loving embrace. The image made it seem like he was singing the song to Darius, which didn’t make sense at all. Or maybe it did, for someone like Vandale, if he perceived death as a form of slumber. Ugh, I didn’t have the time and energy to think about things like that right now.
Vandale stopped singing seconds after I walked into his line of sight. He arched a brow, not seeming very surprised or impressed by my presence. “Well, well. If it isn’t Lucienne Hastings... Again. You should have never come here. But I think you’ve already realized that on your own.”
“You’re wildly overestimating my ability to give a shit,” I said. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m doing it anyway because there’s nothing I hate more than being helpless.”
“That’s an interesting outlook on life,” he said, tilting his head like a curious bird. “Don’t you think that doing something like this just for your own satisfaction is foolish and selfish?”
“Maybe, but most people are foolish and selfish. I don’t mind being one of them, as long as it means the people I care about survive.”
“And how do you know you even care about these people? Declan Whelan. Malachai Braun. Darius Alarisson. Why are they important? Why go so far for them? Do you really believe in soulmates, Lucienne Hastings?”
If he’d asked me that a week ago, I’d have probably said “hell, no.” Now, I wasn’t sure what I believed. “I don’t know. Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t. But... No matter what I think, and no matter what is actually true, the fact remains that they... They do believe it.”
He laughed, the sound sharp, biting, and yet, strangely soft. “That is a very foolish thing to say. When you fight for something, you need to do it for your own desires and convictions, not for the wishes of others. Anything else is just halfhearted hypocrisy.”
I couldn’t believe I was just standing here, engaged in a philosophical debate with a man who had nearly killed me twice and had presumably killed two men I cared about. “But what if accomplishing the wishes of others is my goal?” I asked nevertheless. “What then?”
“No one is actually that selfless. There is always an agenda, even if you yourself don’t realize it. Even when you fight to make another person happy...” His gaze went misty as if he was remembering something and not looking at me at all anymore. “Isn’t it because their happiness makes you happy in turn? Isn’t that selfish too?”
“If that’s the case, why is it bad to be selfish? Maybe if we were all selfish, just a little, but in the right way, the world would be a better place.”
He jolted and shot me a piercing look, suddenly alert once again. “What did you say?”
I bit my lower lip, much too aware of how close his hand was to Darius’s neck. If Vandale killed Darius in this astral space, what effects would it have on the real Darius? Was that even Darius at all, or just a representation of him?
“Speak!” Vandale bellowed.
“I said that if we were all selfish, just a little, but in the right way, the world would be a better place,” I blurted out quickly, unsure if that was what he wanted me to say, or if he was referring to another sentence entirely.
Our gazes met and locked. I couldn’t read him at all. The strange non-expression on his face was nothing like the mocking smirks and self-satisfied looks I’d gotten from him throughout our short acquaintance, and it made me very uncomfortable.
“And what is the right way to be selfish?” he murmured, still holding me captive with his eyes.
“That depends, I guess. I don’t think the notions of right and wrong are so clear cut. But maybe... If we just follow our hearts and protect the people we care about, that is one thing that will always be right, no matter what.”
Vandale’s eyes started to glow with a strange, golden light. His hand moved over Darius’s heart and I did my best to not start hyperventilating. “And what if there’s nothing left to protect, Lucienne Hastings? What if you alone are left, walking on the skulls of your family? What then? In your vision of the world, is it right to avenge them? Would you do it, if it was in your power?”
The question sent shivers down my spine. He’d asked me something similar earlier. If life and death take everything you’ve ever loved from you, what would you do? I realized now that it might not have been a reference to me and the people I’d presumably lost at his hand. He had walked on the skulls of his family, and it hadn’t left him unscathed.
Did it matter? Did I really care about what had brought us here? I didn’t have an answer to that question, but there was still something I could say.
“Yes, I would do it. I would kill you if I could.”
I regretted the words as soon as I said them. Delivering a threat w
as the last thing I should have done. For whatever reason, though, my impulsive response had an effect. Vandale’s breath caught as if I’d physically struck him. At the same time, Darius’s eyes shot open. He jerked away from Vandale so quickly the dead bodies they were sitting on started to slide down. “Run, Lucienne!” Darius shouted as he tried to put distance between himself and the plague. “Get out of here.”
I would’ve done exactly that, except for the fact that one of the bodies rolled right up to me. Despite myself, I found my gaze drawn to it. I froze when I took in the identity of the dead person.
It was... Vandale. He didn’t look identical to the man standing in front of me. His long hair and beard almost completely obscured the now familiar face of my enemy, and he wasn’t even wearing the same thing, having replaced the modern three-piece suit with an old-fashioned shirt and a pair of nondescript breeches. I probably wouldn’t have recognized him at all if he hadn’t been so close.
I looked up, a terrible suspicion coursing through me. My stomach turned when I realized that my guess had been correct. All the bodies had the same face. They were all Vandale. Why?
I didn’t understand, and I didn’t get the chance to ask. “Lucienne!” Darius shouted again, snapping me out of my trance. “Focus.”
Right. I hadn’t come here to investigate the weird psyche of the maniac who was trying to kill me. I had wanted to help Darius, and it had worked. Sort of. Darius was free now, but while I had been distracted by the corpses, Vandale had recovered from his shock. Whatever had kept him from trying to murder both me and Darius during our conversation had completely vanished. When I faced him again, his previously blue irises turned jet black. As I watched, the darkness spilled into the sclera like a creepy brand of malevolent ink, until there was nothing in his gaze except night.
Darius stumbled to my side, sparks of flame flickering around him and in his silver eyes. “We need to go,” he told me.
“I can’t disagree with that,” Vandale said calmly. “Then again, you should have never come here.”
He had spoken the latter sentence before, when I’d just arrived, but it hadn’t been so terrifying. That probably had a lot to do with the fact that, this time around, the dead bodies at his feet echoed his words in a chorus that reminded me of that one nightmare I’d had after watching too many episodes of The Walking Dead.
This might not have been a movie-marathon induced dream, but I still decided to do the same thing I’d done when chased by imaginary zombies. I made a run for it, hoping Darius would follow.
He did. If there was some kind of rule in the How to Be a Magical Prince guidebook about not running away from a battle, he’d apparently decided to discard it. If our situation wouldn’t have sucked so much, I could have sobbed in relief. Finally, someone was displaying a degree of self-preservation.
My good fortune didn’t last. We had just reached the beach when Vandale popped up in front of us, manifesting out of thin air like a phantom. I froze in my tracks. Darius wasn’t nearly as taken aback as I was. He stepped in front of me, shielding me from Vandale with his own body.
It had been stupid to think that we could physically run away from someone’s mind. Darius would’ve known that. He had to have a plan then. Otherwise, he would not have told me to run or joined me in my flight.
“Tsk, tsk, princeling.” Vandale shook his head in apparent disappointment. “That was a nice try, but no matter how long you stall, your subordinates can’t help you.”
Oh. Darius was hoping for reinforcements, perhaps aid from Inquisitor Lindberg. The man had said that he would try to break into Vandale’s mind before I’d gone and done it myself.
Much to my dismay, I realized Vandale might be right on this one. He and I must’ve been speaking for a good couple of minutes before Darius had woken up. If Inquisitor Lindberg hadn’t done anything until now, it was highly unlikely that whatever time Darius would manage to buy would make a difference.
Over Darius’s shoulder, I caught sight of Vandale shooting me a tiny, wicked smile. “That is correct, Lucienne,” he drawled. “Bjorn Lindberg cannot reach you, and neither can any of the others. You are mine now.”
“Lucienne doesn’t belong to anyone except herself,” Darius replied. “You will leave her be. Your fight is with me, isn’t it, plague?”
Something strange flickered over Vandale’s face, like a shadow of an emotion I couldn’t identify. The whites of his eyes started to show once again. “I suppose it is,” he said after a brief pause. “It’s long overdue. You won’t get away from me, not this time.”
“We’ll just have to see about that.”
Darius’s voice had no inflection whatsoever. He sounded just like he had the day we’d first spoken, at the club, when his emotionless demeanor had frightened me so much.
When had that changed? Why? What did it all mean?
“Oh, it means that your handsome Alarian prince is your soulmate too,” Vandale replied, responding to the question I hadn’t asked. “Congratulations. You gave him his emotions back, although he won’t live long enough to enjoy them. The Alarian Vow is a nasty piece of work.”
“The Alarian Vow?” I repeated. “What is that?”
“It’s an enchantment that is cast on all members of the Alarian royal family shortly after they are born,” Darius explained, his gaze still fixed on Vandale. “Basically, if at any time, we reunite with our soulmates and gain the ability to feel, the Vow kills us.”
What the fuck?
“And how do you undo it?” I asked, tasting dread in my mouth.
Darius threw me a brief, sad smile. “You don’t. It’s supposed to have an instantaneous effect. I’m not completely sure why I’m alive now. But whatever reason there might be for it, I will make good use of what little time I have left.”
I had no words to reply to that. Vandale did better. He started to clap mockingly, interrupting my exchange with Darius. “Bravo. Well done. Such an impressive performance. There is nothing more charmingly dramatic than an Alarian’s promise to protect his or her soulmate. It’s so sweet it would probably give me diabetes if I were able to get sick.
“What do you make of it, Lucienne Hastings? You came here to save him, and it turns out he doesn’t want to be saved. None of them do. That’s the funniest part. No matter how hard you try, you won’t be able to help them, because they will never believe the curse is breakable, and they will always prioritize your life over theirs.”
He was only saying the same thing I’d noticed already and had repeatedly gotten angry about. Even so, I instinctively started to protest. “I have two weeks. Declan said—”
“Your werewolf lied,” Vandale cut me off. “The Accursed Syndrome, aka the disease caused by the curse, starts manifesting after a month. The two weeks he gave you are meaningless.”
At this point, I’d thought nothing would be able to give me nasty surprises, but I’d been wrong. For the second time that day, I froze as I took in the fact that someone I deeply cared about had lied to me.
“Darius, is that true?”
Darius hesitated, but only for a moment. “Yes. We’re usually expedient in dealing with such issues because sometimes, exceptions do happen. But as a rule, it takes a month for the curse to settle in.”
Vandale grinned. “How unfortunate. It appears you’re surrounded by liars, aren’t you, Lucienne? One of your oldest friends is secretly a scavenger who has been using you all along. Your new werewolf boyfriend doesn’t care about your opinions and beliefs. None of them do. Human or Accursed, everyone is the same. They will lie, betray and cheat. They are not worth your pain.”
His words might have been intended to hurt me, but they had the opposite effect. My panic and anger disappeared, leaving behind the knowledge of what truly mattered. “Maybe you’re right, and maybe nobody cares about how I feel. But at the same time, I don’t care about that, not right now. Because you know what? Declan is still alive, and so is Pierce. You used present tense when you spok
e about them.”
I still felt betrayed because they had lied to me and even used me, but I’d deal with that later, once I made sure they were safe. Some things were just more important than others.
Vandale blinked as if he hadn’t expected me to catch onto that little tidbit. “Oh, I did. How clumsy of me. Well, it doesn’t really matter. Because while our conversation has been very interesting and all, it changes nothing. You’re still trapped here, and you’re still mine. I will make sure you stay that way.”
I had just enough time to dread the meaning of that sentence before an invisible force knocked me to the ground. It appeared Vandale had grown tired of mocking us, and he had no desire to continue playing the cat-and-mouse game he seemed to enjoy earlier.
Darius did not fare any better. If anything, his condition was far worse than mine. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest as if he was having trouble breathing. The sand beneath his hands started to glow, the light flickering as if it was actually alive and seeping into Darius through his palms. With a pained groan, he started vomiting blood.
For a few seconds, I just sat there, watching the scene in terrified shock. It was only when Darius let out a choked scream that I recovered. As more blood dribbled down his pale lips and his chest heaved with the effort to draw breath, I staggered to my feet, pushing past the terrible pressure Vandale was still exerting over us. My head started spinning, but I did not give up. I could not beat him here, but I refused to abandon hope. Even if all I had left was myself, even if my only remaining option was to beg for mercy, I’d do it. “Stop! Stop it, please! You’re killing him.”
Vandale smiled, and the odd edge of fondness in the expression made my skin crawl. “It’s going to be all right. I know it hurts now, but both of you will be better soon. The pain will be all gone, and no one will ever hurt you again. “