Black Rook

by Ingrid Seymour

  BLACK ROOK

  Vampire Court

  Ingrid Seymour

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  BLACK ROOK

  First edition. May 2, 2019

  Copyright © 2019 Ingrid Seymour

  Written by Ingrid Seymour

  Cover Designed by Deranged Doctor Designs

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Get Notified

  Also By Ingrid Seymour

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  The vampire’s blood tore down my throat like acid.

  King Maximus held me against the massive wall that surrounded his Black Palace, while I uselessly fought with all I had.

  My eight-year-old brother bore witness to the horror, cowering against a tree, his face streaming with tears.

  When Maximus first captured me, I had wished to die. I had even told him to kill me, just not in front of Timotei. It seemed like my best option, but the Black King had decided a different fate for me. Exactly what it would be, I had no idea. But this one thing I knew... it would be worse than death.

  A scream rose from my chest but was muffled by the King’s wrist as it pressed tighter against my lips, his veins spouting frigid blood into my mouth. My desperation echoed against the trees, renting the night.

  Despite its coldness, the blood seemed to ignite my throat as if someone were force feeding me white-hot steel straight from the forge. The inferno traveled to my chest, then my limbs, sparking a torturous fire in my very core. In seconds, my bones would turn to ash, and I would collapse to the ground, limp and lifeless.

  My body thrashed.

  Vampire blood didn’t only heal, it also killed. I hadn’t known that. It seemed I was dying after all.

  The inferno ceased abruptly. I went still. My thrashing limbs fell limp. An eerie calm descended over me. Finally... this was death, release. I wished for oblivion and not a hell where I would forever be tortured by my brother’s fate.

  Forgive me, Timotei.

  Energy surged from my chest, destroying the calm, denying the peace I desired.

  “Just the right amount,” King Maximus said, his voice rumbling in my ear as he released me and stepped back.

  I landed in a crouch, chest heaving. The vampire blood inside my body was a crashing wave sweeping over me, then raging like a tornado, breaking free the walls that bound my emotions.

  In a surge, anger, elation, sadness, frustration, excitement, and all manner of feelings mixed and collided inside my chest. Above all of them, a new sensation prevailed: a burst of strength, a restless power that made me feel as if I could take on all the gods.

  Overcome by this foreign force, I growled, my eyes darting to the King’s still-bleeding wrist. I greedily licked my lips.

  A laugh rumbled deep inside Maximus’s throat.

  “Now,” he said, “show me how much better and more righteous than me you are.” He stepped aside, giving me a full view of Timotei, still curled up in fear, his back against a tree.

  Wide, blue eyes stared up at me, hope and relief building in them. He’d also thought the King would kill me, but here I was, standing on my own two legs, energized. No, I wasn’t dead. In fact, I’d never felt more alive. I could hear every chirping insect and see the bark in the tree trunks almost as if it were daytime.

  Timotei uncurled, stretching his legs away from his chest and slowly rising to his feet.

  “Nyro?” he said, his little voice breaking.

  “See, pet,” the King purred. “I listen to reason. I didn’t kill him as you begged.” He smiled crookedly, one fang showing.

  His expression should have alerted me to the effects of his blood, but I was too intent on Timotei.

  He glanced toward King Maximus, a combination of gratitude and fear in his eyes. When his gaze returned to me, fresh tears were spilling down his face, and whatever force had kept him at bay thus far released him.

  “Nyro!” he exclaimed, then rushed toward me and tumbled into my arms.

  I swept him up, relief washing over me.

  “Timotei.” I held him tightly, burying my face in his soft hair and closing my eyes.

  His warmth seeped into me, making me realize how chilled I was. A sweet, enticing scent rose from him. I inhaled sharply as he shook against me, sobbing.

  Slowly, I lowered my head and pressed him more tightly against me. It felt so good to finally have him with me. He was safe.

  I inhaled once more. The scent was sweeter still. A light throbbing tapped against my lips. Suddenly, all the feelings raging inside me coalesced into one.

  Hunger.

  My eyes sprang open, and I found that my mouth and nose were pressed tightly against Timotei’s neck.

  King Maximus stood behind my brother, smiling coolly. He inclined his head in invitation as if he were a friend offering me a tankard of ale.

  I froze, repulsion and shame unfurling in my stomach and battling against the fierce, clawing hunger.

  Timotei’s warmth and throbbing life seemed to call my name. I breathed his sweetness, marveling at the fact that I’d never noticed it. He’d always smelled like sweat, street dog, and wildness. And now... this.

  Something so different, so... unnatural.

  A battle of wills unleashed inside my mind. A part of me was terribly aware of the wrongness. Yet, more basic instincts urged me to embrace the hunger, regardless of the consequences. As both sides battled, my entire body trembled.

  “You’re not better,” the King had said before he’d fed me his blood. “You’re just like everyone else, just like I once was. I will prove it to you.”

  King Maximus went on smiling, waiting patiently to prove me wrong.

  He did this!

  Anger flared deep in my soul, a small spark battling the power of my hunger.

  I stoked the small ember.

  King Maximus had done this. He thought he could turn me into a monster.

  My anger grew.

  Body tense and vibrating with the effort, I set my brother down and took two steps back.

  “Stay away from me, Timotei,” I said between clenched teeth.

  His face twisted in confusion and, behind him, so did the King’s.

  My body quaked with hunger and fury.

  There was only one being who deserved the brunt of all I felt, including the mighty strength that currently possessed my limbs.

  I lunged for the King.

  CHAPTER 2

  With an unusual surge of strength, my legs propelled me toward King Maximus at a prodigious speed. Growling, I went for the kill, hands curved into claws, aimed toward his neck.

  The King blurred. One instant he was in front of me, the next he was at my side, his own claw-like hand clamped around my neck, immobilizing me.

  I tore at his arm, nails digging deep. Blood seeped from my own fingertips as they threatened to come loose from their beds, but I didn’t hurt him. He was stone, and I was but flesh and bones.

  The great strength that coursed through me was nothing but child’s play to the Black King. He grabbed one of my clawing hands and squeezed it until
the bones broke under the pressure. I screamed in pain. He let go. I stared at my bent fingers. Two of them jutted at odd angles. Bile stirred in my gut.

  The Black King released his hold on my neck. I dropped to my knees, cradling my hand.

  He glowered down at me, his expression conflicted. He sniffed the air as if trying to catch my scent. When he did, he seemed to grow even more puzzled.

  Fighting my nausea, I got to my feet. Sweat dripped down the side of my face. The pain in my hand was the worst I’d ever felt, and I feared I would pass out from its effects.

  “Nyro Stonehelm, you surprise me,” the King said. “I’ve never seen anyone turn down a Trove, much less after their first tasting.”

  Both the use of my name and his admission startled me. I never thought vampires could possess redeemable qualities, for how could something like honesty and evil mix?

  “I should kill you,” he said, “but my curiosity is piqued. You didn’t break just now—he’s your brother, after all—but surely you will give in the next time. I’m also thinking you might make a good addition to the Board.” He turned to Timotei. “What do you say, pet? Should I let him live?”

  The question was full of mockery. Timotei’s answer didn’t matter. Maximus had already made up his mind. He’d found a toy to distract him from the boredom of his eternal existence.

  “Y-yes, please,” my brother said between sobs. “He’s my brother.”

  King Maximus leaned forward and caressed Timotei’s cheek, the back of his fingers smearing the blood from the wound in Timotei’s temple.

  I shook my head. I didn’t want to be part of the Board. I despised the Vampire Court and everything it represented. I would rather die. Every citizen in Acedrex was a prisoner, every Trove either a slave or someone living in constant fear of being discovered. I couldn’t be part of that, couldn’t become a monster.

  And yet, how could I abandon my brother? If I lived past today, there would still be a chance to free him. And maybe I wouldn’t have to become a monster. The Black King had expected me to attack Timotei, but I’d been able to resist.

  My will was strong. I could overcome whatever obstacle, whatever challenge King Maximus set in front of me, couldn’t I?

  My hand throbbed, the pain and tingling in my broken fingers a sharp, living thing that still had my insides roiling.

  “Then Nyro shall live,” the King announced with a flourish as if he were ushering guests into his chambers to later feed on them.

  Timotei inhaled sharply, his relief clear. The back of my eyes stung. He didn’t understand the game the King was playing. He only cared that his big brother would live.

  “Now, let’s fix this,” King Maximus said, snatching my hand and righting the broken fingers with one sudden jerk.

  I screamed, my pain renewed and redoubled. My bones cracked into place, straight once more, although just as broken.

  He opened his mouth to say something else, but trampling sounds from the woods gave him pause. Several dark shapes on horseback appeared and came to a halt when they spotted us.

  Knight Traian and Knight Arcos dismounted with more agility than men their age should possess. Rook Sanda and Ungur were also there and hopped off their mounts almost as quickly as the Knights.

  Rook Sanda stormed in my direction, his intention to murder me clearly spelled on his face.

  “Heel,” the King ordered, but Sanda went on, seemingly blinded by rage.

  I got ready, flexing my legs and holding up my hands, even as my broken fingers complained. Before Sanda got too close, however, Knight Traian took hold of the Rook’s shoulder and fiercely held him back.

  “Obey your King’s command,” Traian growled.

  The Rook jolted to a stop. He blinked, red eyes roving around in confusion. After a moment, he shrank a bit, though his desire to murder me still shone in his gaze.

  The four newcomers stood there, peering from the King to Timotei to me, then back again. I had no idea what they made out of the situation. My brother, bloodied. Me, still alive. And the King, looking amused rather than angry.

  “Well, don’t just stand there,” King Maximus said, pointing at me. “Get this boy a horse.”

  The Knights and Rooks exchanged puzzled glances, while the King lifted Timotei into his arms and, in one fluid motion, propelled himself to the top of the wall. I lurched forward in a fruitless attempt to get at Timotei, then peered up to find the King standing casually at the edge of the fortification.

  “I will meet you at the Challenge Hall,” he said from atop his perch, while my brother clung to him, pressing his face to the King’s chest. “Nyro Stonehelm fights tonight.”

  What?!

  Knight Traian took a step forward, shaking his head. “But he has broken his contract, your Majesty. He should die.”

  “Dear Traian, when was the last time you read the contract?” the King asked. “It is I who decides the punishment. Have you forgotten? Well, I haven’t, and I have decided that tonight, Nyro’s punishment will be to fight to become First Pawn.”

  CHAPTER 3

  Ungur had drawn a Rook piece from the Challenge Vessel. Now, he stood in front of me, a delighted expression on his wide face. Everyone had been roused and summoned to bear witness. During Constanta’s challenge against Ungur, not even the Knights had been present. This was certainly different.

  Every Board member was here, including the King, sitting at the head of the room on his throne-like chair on the dais. I assumed he’d brought my brother back to the palace for which I was relieved.

  Instead, he brought his robed Black Bishops who now stood at his sides, observing the proceedings from their raised vantage point, heavy hoods over their heads obscuring their faces.

  I’d never seen them before, and their presence, more than the King’s, made my insides shudder. A dark cloud seemed to hang around them, and something about the protective way they stood around the King made me think of hellish hounds determined to safeguard their master at all costs.

  Flanking the room on their own raised platforms were the Knights. On the left, Traian and his Rooks and Pawns, and on the right, Knight Arcos and his own Quadrant.

  Knight Traian ordered a couple of his Pawns to remove the Challenge Vessel from the center of the room. One of them picked up the vessel, the other the pedestal, then deposited both pieces in a corner, out of the way.

  I glanced at the King. He hadn’t told anyone he’d fed me his blood and, when he first came in, he’d whispered a warning in my ear, advising me to keep my mouth shut unless I wanted my little brother to experience some discomfort.

  “I’ve been gentle with him thus far, Nyro,” he had said in a barely audible voice. “He’s just a child, after all, and I don’t want to break him.”

  A chill had gone down my spine at the thought of Timotei being tortured by this monster. I couldn’t allow it, not when Timotei kept facing the consequences of my failures.

  Across from me, Ungur practically vibrated with anticipation, waiting for the command to begin. I clenched my fists and, for the first time, noticed that the pain in my hand was gone. I looked down and flexed my fingers. They were working as they were supposed to.

  The vampire blood!

  My gaze darted to the King. He smiled knowingly. He’d set my fingers straight to avoid them from healing at the wrong angle, and he’d likely done it on purpose, his mind already anticipating this challenge. My entire hand had tingled as they’d dragged me here from the woods. I should have realized what that meant.

  Knight Traian cleared his throat. “Tonight, Challenger Nyro Stonehelm faces Challenger Ungur Lowthorn. If Lowthorn defeats Stonehelm, he gains the right to challenge Fourth Pawn Brigita Ashcrag at a later time.

  “If Stonehelm defeats Lowthorn, by King Maximus’s order, he will fight Fourth Pawn Brigita tonight. If he is victorious and remains undefeated in every match, he will successively fight the Third, Second, and First Pawns.”

  A disapproving murmur went around the
Board members. Eyes darted back and forth between the King and me, but no one dared to say anything. The King’s power was absolute, making a mockery of all contracts and laws.

  “Let the challenge begin,” Knight Traian said after a short pause, then took his seat.

  A few paces in front of me, Ungur huffed like a bull. “You won’t make it past me, thief. This is your death sentence.”

  And maybe it was. I would have to fight five people in order to survive the night. There was no question the King wanted to see me suffer, wanted to break my spirit. How this helped him prove I was no better than him, I didn’t know. But I had angered him when he’d been about to kill me. I had shown disgust instead of fear. I’d felt pity for him, and he hadn’t liked it.

  Ungur clenched his fists, making the veins and muscles along his thick arms bulge. He’d removed his shirt and boots and wore nothing but his black trousers. Hunched low, he circled, watching me like a hawk ready to swoop down for its prey.

  He pounced, coming at me like a boulder, moving much faster than I could have imagined possible from the likes of him. I dodged. A few in the room gasped. I’d moved fast too, faster than I’d ever been able to, and certainly faster than Ungur or any regular human.

  His eyes darted toward Knight Traian, then Rook Sanda. They were frowning, appearing as confused as Ungur.

  All three glowered back at me as if I were to blame for any of this, but they didn’t as much blink toward the true culprit: King Maximus.

  Oh, how they feared him, clinging to their little, pathetic lives. Well, I didn’t give a damn about living anymore. I’d tried to save what little I had left, and I’d failed. Now, my future—if I could devise one by taking advantage of the blood the King had force-fed me—seemed bleaker than any I’d ever imagined, one where I would be more thoroughly enslaved than I’d been so far.

  I wanted none of it.

  “You did this. You and Sanda,” I said, at last realizing how deceived I’d been to think I’d fooled them. Instead, they’d played me, waiting to entrap me until the moment when it hurt the most and my hopes were at their highest.