The love of his life was dead and what felt like a war raged violently within his body. His instincts battled against his emotions for control, and he was enduring the worst that both had to offer. His chest felt like it had been hollowed out, his mind raced as it searched for something it could never find. Everything in him was in a panic, yet he could not allow it to surface. He had to keep control; he wouldn't let the pain overtake him.
Smirnov walked up alongside the President, and Cade looked down at the child in his arms. He had a sudden realization that he was about to face the greatest challenge he had ever encountered, and it all started with keeping her alive. He was resolute in spite of his pain, in spite of his fury, he was not going to fail her like he felt he had failed Nida. Charlotte was going to live; she was going to grow up and be greater than he would ever be. He promised himself that, and as he reached his finger out and placed it in her tiny hand, he nodded his head, pushed his emotions down deep inside him, and kept walking.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ema’as V
24th of Ramlia - 346AG
0:00 - The Silis
"Do not be nervous, child," Daanel encouraged Ema'as as they ascended a stairwell together, "Do not show weakness. His Highness will pick up on it. You need to be strong; do you understand?"
"Yeah," Ema'as nodded her head and chewed on her lower lip. She did not know what she was walking into and whether to be fearful or hopeful about it. She had never signed up for any of what was going on, never approved. As she thought about it, she realized she was going through the same thing she always had.
She had been born a Marauder and knew only the ways of scavenging and killing to survive. Her tribe had conquered and been conquered time and time again in what seemed to be an endless cycle. Her warlord changed every couple of years as well as the rules and living conditions. She had been a slave, a warrior, a hooker and a cook; every time leadership changed so did her role. When Eon came along, it was no different. She followed along and stayed alive.
For a moment, she had tasted freedom. She thought back to driving through the wastes with Camber, the idea of the Brothers on the Western horizon, of the ocean calling out her name. She wished she had made it, that she was well on her way to North Barus… that she still had her freedom.
She did not want to be judged unworthy, nor did she want to die. She knew she had no choice in the matter, that if she tried to flee the High Vampre would chase her down and slaughter her. She walked behind Daanel, and her heart beat faster with every step, he had told her not to be afraid, but she couldn't help it.
"Just ahead," Daanel looked back and saw Ema'as trembling. He rolled his eyes and walked over to her. As his hands closed around her wrists, he gently shook her so that their gazes met.
"You need to get ahold of yourself," He sternly told her, "I want you to succeed, I see potential in you. Ema'as do not let me down, I do not want to have to be the one to stake you, but if you fail me, do not doubt that I will."
She nodded and took a deep breath. Daanel crept his hand up her arm to her shoulder and gave her a serious look.
"You can do this, young one," He encouraged her, "Believe in yourself, be stronger than you have ever been and show Graham that strength." He patted her arm and stepped toward a set of white metal doors with a keypad mounted on the wall to the left, beckoning her to follow as he did.
"Come on," he nodded her toward the door, and she stepped up. He pushed a button on the keypad, and the doors slid open, revealing a long white room lined with paintings and sculptures. In the middle of the room was a wooden table, four beings were seated at the table, and they all turned their heads in unison as Ema'as stepped inside.
"Greetings to the council," Daanel declared as he walked past Ema'as, "I hope you all are well. This is…" He paused and looked around, "Where is the King?"
"Late," a thin bodied and silver-haired Vampress hissed, "As is typical of him when it comes to these gatherings."
"Of course our great King has his reasons, Mildrin," A scholarly sounding male Vampre with glasses and a scarred bald head responded, "The greatest of virtues, patience is." He turned his head and smiled warmly toward Ema'as, "Come, child. Sit, tell us of yourself."
Ema'as stepped forward and pulled a chair away from the table. Daanel took a seat next to Mildrin, and all five of the High Vampre turned to face her.
A lump formed in her throat for it seemed that the heavy gazes of the powerful beings were bearing down on her. She coughed lightly and ran her fingers through her hair, the bald High Vampre turned toward her, his smile not fading.
"Tell me, my dear," his pearly white teeth gleamed as he grinned, "What is your name?"
"Ema'as," She replied softly. She was intimidated by them, by all of them. She tried not to make it apparent, but her mind was getting the best of her.
"Darling Ema'as," the Vampre repeated, "I am Argyl Lincaam, Duke of Mrask, I am honored to have the opportunity to meet you. Before you sits a piece of the remnant of our mighty lineage, we are here today to discuss whether or not you have a place at our side. Before we get into any of that though, allow me to introduce those whom I am most honored to call family. Across from me sits Lemron Veldaask Duke of Kamlot, and next to him, Magnus Fendriik, Duke of Canrom. Mildrin Shara'Avi Duchess of Belhaas is this shining beacon of beauty next to me, and of course, you have met your master. Daanel Beyman, Marquees of Canrom."
Argyl folded his fingers together and stared at Ema'as. He seemed to dissect her; he was watching for something. As her eyes nervously scanned the faces in front of her, he warmly grinned and nodded his head.
“‘Tis a miserable existence, that of a fledgling High Vampre. The Thirst, as they call it, is insatiable. It is terrifying to come out of mortality, to transform into something so powerful. Little Ema'as, you see, we have but one goal. To restore the kingdom of the Vampre to the splendor it once was. Our ancestors might could not be shaken; they ruled these lands like none before them ever had. We are irrefutably the most powerful native race to this planet. Why, did you know that Duraan is a Vampre word? It means home. We named this world; we claimed it for our people."
Ema'as nodded silently. She did not whether she was expected to speak, or what she was supposed to do. She waited for a prompt, but Argyl smiled and kept talking.
"We go through this process with every fledgling High Vampre we encounter. You see, over time blood can weaken. We need the strongest Vampre at our side; we do not have room for weakness. Tell me, child, how many years have you graced this planet with your existence?"
"I am… nineteen." She replied, hoping that it wasn't an unsatisfactory answer.
"Nineteen," Argyl chuckled and looked down at the table, "Such inexperience, such youth. Your ideas of the world are still only forming; your outlook will change time and time again. Tell me, and understand there is no wrong answer, what do you think of our home? What do you think of Duraan?"
Ema'as looked to Daanel, and he gave her a nod. She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to speak.
"Duraan is… broken," She said, feeling confident in her words, "I come from a people that fight to survive. We have to make use of everything; we are always killing and being killed. I have never seen the inside of a city; I never knew that places like this… vehicle thing existed."
"Broken you say?" Argyl repeated, "Broken or… perhaps simply not being used correctly? An Elf sits on the throne of the Empire and poisons the world with his fabrications. Tell me, are you happy with the Emperor?"
"If it is his fault that I have lived the way I have… then no. I am not happy with the Emperor."
"Ema'as I will tell you this," Argyl said, "Our power is greater than the Emperor's, any single one of us could rip him to shreds. Do you want to be one of us? Do you want to see the return of the Kingdom of the Vampre?"
"Yes," Ema'as answered, knowing full well that was what Argyl wanted to hear, "If I have it inside me to be as strong as you, I will do anything. I�
�� am tired of being a slave. I want to be free."
"Freedom is something that no Vampre should desire," Argyl said, "It is our right. This is our world, not anybody else's. Anyway, I do believe that I hear King Graham's footsteps approaching. I thank you for your honesty, make certain that you maintain that level of honesty when speaking to his Highness."
Ema'as heard the footsteps that Argyl mentioned. They were coming from behind a door at the opposite end of the long room and as they neared everyone turned their heads to look.
"Brace for impact," Daanel smiled as he watched the doors, "Here he comes."
The doors slid open, and everyone stood. Ema'as watched and immediately became confused by what she was seeing. King Graham was not what she expected; the leaders of her people were always large and strong looking. They were the type who could crush skulls and rip out spines with their hands. King Graham… did not look like he could any of that.
The thin Vampre strutted into the room one foot after the other as if he were walking on an imaginary line. He was adorned in bright colors, his pants were a brilliant white, and his matching shining white leather boots didn't pass his ankles. He wore a bright baby blue shirt with the front open, showing off his hairless toned chest. Around his neck was a yellow silk scarf and his wavy blonde hair hung to his shoulders. In his right hand, he held a tasseled sash that he spun as he walked.
"Well hello you big bad bloodsucking bitches," He flashed a seductive smile as he stepped up to his council. His eyes wandered to Ema'as, and he winked at her, "I see you too, you sexy little thing. One, that top looks amazing on you. Two, I'll be with you in a minute."
"Your Majesty," Argyl bowed as Graham approached, "It is good to see you."
"Oh get off the ground you nasty little bald fucker," Graham rolled his eyes and flicked his wrist at Argyl, "How many times do I have to tell you, it ain't-gonna-happen." The King laughed softly to himself as he pulled a chair from the table. Slowly, he dramatically spun in place and gently sat himself down on the cushion and crossed his legs all in one motion. His magnificently manicured hands sat on top of one another as the King rested them on his knee and straightened his back. He looked straight at Ema'as, puckered his glossy lips and smiled.
"So," He raised his hands and clapped them together, "Another sad little Thirst stricken soul has come to the king for judgment." He cocked his head and widely opened his eyes. As he flipped his hair out of the way, he grabbed hold of his tasseled sash once again and held it in Ema'as' direction.
"I really hate these things, you know?" He shook his head and let out a dramatic sigh, "Like, you just don't understand, so let's be completely honest with each other here today okay?"
Ema'as realized her mouth was hanging open. She promptly closed it and nodded her head in affirmation.
"That's a good girl," he purred, "Okay, so, you know, judge me all you want but it's whatever, but the main reason I would kill you today is because I think you look like shit. Like I said, your call on the judgment situation, but, you know, I'm not going to raise an army that looks like they crawled out of a damn Springmart after-season sale, you know what I mean?"
"Yeah...." Ema'as did her best to sound convincing, but she had no idea what the Vampre was talking about.
"Great," He put on a big fake toothy smile and playfully bit the tip of his tongue between his front teeth, "So, you have nothing to worry about in that regard. You look fucking bomb as fuck. I don't know if you dressed yourself or if someone picked your clothes out for you, I really don't. Either way, keep up what you're doing because you're doing yourself a favor. Also, that smoky eye? Two words, holy-fucksticks."
Daanel was holding back a laugh, and Graham noticed. He briefly glanced over at the youngest member of his council and gave him a wink.
"Okay so, and this is probably more realistic so... yay for that I guess, but... I need you in your own words to tell me why you think you are a good fit for my happy little band of bitches."
Ema'as looked around silently for a moment, and Graham reached up and snapped his fingers.
"Hey! You, little chocolate sundae surprise, look at me! What is your name by the way?"
"Ema'as"
"Oh, that's cute. But yeah, Ema'as, hey. I'm the fucking king. Give me attention," he nodded his head slowly as he spoke and Ema'as found herself nodding with him. Graham noticed, and he let out a little smirk at the level of manipulation he already had over her, "Okay, so when I ask you to use your own words… don't look at everyone else in the room. Fuck them; it's only you and me here baby girl. Just be yourself. I swear that is all I want from my people. Nobody gets it. I don't get it. I mean, I don't get why they don't get it. You got me?"
"Yeah," Ema'as nodded and blinked for the first time in the whole encounter, "I think…"
"Good. Look, I know you're just a baby and that this is scary for you," his voice softened and sounded a bit more compassionate, "And I want you to succeed. Like, I want a fucking army. But you have to be real with me darling. I am on your team; I'm on team Ema'as. Now take a breath, unclench your probably A-class ass, and tell me why you think you would be a good fit."
Ema'as opened her mouth to speak, but only air came out. Her heart was pounding, and she was trembling in her seat. She had never been more afraid of a male in her life. She couldn't read him; she didn't understand anything about him. Most times she knew exactly what they wanted but he, he completely destroyed her.
Graham pursed his lips together and sighed. He stood and turned toward the door, waving his finger through the air in a circle as he did so.
"Okay!" He sang, "Time for all of you little blood sucking beauties to get the fuck out." He turned back around and looked at his council, "I need to have a one on one with the little Vampress."
"But Sir, we are all entitled to a judgment," Duke Magnus objected, "If it pleases you…"
"You know what would really please me, Magnus?" Graham interrupted him, blinking his eyes rapidly, "If you would shut your cock holster, get your flat grumpy ass out of my chair, and get the fuck out like the damn King commanded. I think that would do it." He raised his eyebrows for effect, and Duke Magnus nodded and stood. The others quickly followed, and Graham obnoxiously smiled and waved at each of them as they passed. Daanel was the last to leave, and he turned and gave Ema'as a smiling nod as he did.
"By Igo and all that he shines on," Graham rolled his eyes and bobbed his head as he dramatically spoke, "I swear, have you ever met a group of people who have sticks shoved up their asses as far as those guys?" Graham pointed toward the door, cocked his head and raised his eyebrows.
"I mean," Ema'as shrugged, "Sometimes in the caravan when the slaves would misbehave…"
"Oh honey," Graham clenched his teeth and looked around the room, "That was rhetorical, but I mean, it's kind of cool that you actually have met people with literal sticks in their asses. I think." He hummed and walked around the table. He continued his signature strut and dragged his wooden chair behind him, finally placing it next to Ema'as and seating himself crossed legs, folded hands and all.
"Look," He sighed and lowered his head. He elegantly brushed his hair out of his face as he looked back up and gave Ema'as the sweetest smile he could muster, "You look so young. But when I gaze at your sandblasted, sunburnt and probably never-moisturized face, I see so much more than all the other fledglings that come through here. You clearly have been through some serious shit and… well based on looking at your eyes, your face, your posture… I think it has made you grow up way too fucking quick. Does that make sense?"
"Yes," Ema'as nodded slowly, concerned that she may be providing too much information.
"Okay. So you are a Marauder, right? One of those people eating, robber fuckers who drive the trucks with the big wheels and shit?"
"Yes."
"Okay. So I won't judge you for eating people, you did what you had to do. I won't judge for probably killing kids, because it was part of your culture or whatever. You know what
I am judging you for though?"
"What?" Ema'as felt a wave of concern come over her. She was worried that she was about to be killed and that he was going to do it himself.
"The simple stupid fact that you may be the strongest Vampress that has ever sat at my fucking table yet you are scared of me, a male. How empowering… I mean, for myself of course."
Ema'as shifted in her seat and looked away from him. He was somehow able to see right through her, and it terrified her.
"Yes, I have a dick. It's big, it gets hard, and I use it to fuck. But a girl like you? You should still be able to control me. You should be able to make me eat out of your hand."
Ema'as fought it, but a smile crept across her face.
"Here, we are going to do a little team building exercise, okay?" Graham smiled and touched Ema'as cheek with his fingertips. He leaned in closer and licked his lips, "I want you to say the nastiest thing you think I have ever done. Just guess, just throw it out there, dig deep in that little fucked up brain of yours and tell me what the nastiest thing I have ever done is."
"I don't know," Ema'as felt the fear return. She did not want to offend him; she didn't want to fail some test he was giving her.
"Tell me!" His eyes grew wide, and he laughed silently, "What do you think I've done?"
"Um, I mean, suck a dick?"
"What?" Graham sat upright, and he wrinkled up his face, "That's not even a good sentence. Suck a dick? Really? I mean, no, that is not the correct answer… I was thinking of the time that I tied up dozens of soldiers from the enemy army and then launched them across the battlefield into their walls. They screamed like a bitch in heat, but stopped when they splatted against the stone walls.”
Graham laughed silently to himself for a moment but then shook his head in an almost offended way, “Wait, you seriously think the nastiest thing I have done since surviving from the fucking Age of Blood, is suck on a penis? I mean, what? A: since when has that even been nasty you little hoe? B, what kind of shitty king do you think that I am that the worst thing I’ve ever done is perform oral?"
The Black Knight Box Set Page 84