by Emily Inskip
But Aedric’s attention was still fixed upon Amara, the ghost of a smile now curling his lips.
“You’ll have to try harder to impress me next time,” she simply said before turning her back. The crowds peeled away, parting as she strutted past.
Amara stared each of them down, not bothering to look back at Aedric, half-dazed against a pillar.
As she reached the familiar view of the refreshments table once more, Amara could have sworn she heard the Queen let out a small laugh from upon her throne.
Amara’s brows rose slightly before she poured herself another flute of wine. And as she did, she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her own lips.
16
Typical.
It was just typical that the moment Amara had begun to enjoy the night; it all had to go to shit. She didn’t know why she was surprised.
It was nearing midnight when Amara had managed to weave her way through the crowd of dancing royals.
She didn’t know if it was the alcohol, but somehow, she found herself swaying to the music. At first, Amara frowned at her movements. They were so unnatural, so different from what she knew. They were not strong or lethal, like those she had learnt through years of fighting and death. Instead, they were soft and breezy, as though she were a leaf on the wind. The light chimes of strings and rich piano notes carried her across the hall as she downed another glass of champagne.
But she stopped dead in her tracks. A dark shadow in the corner of her vision brought her back to sobriety. A hooded figure that made her stiffen, her senses flaring.
Amara narrowed her eyes. Even from across the crowds she could see him perfectly. A man lurking within a shady alcove, his eyes trained on her, arms folded across his chest. She met that gaze and didn’t break it. Her face was like granite, cold and unforgiving. Any joy she once had was now completely and utterly gone.
She was not a leaf. There was no wind.
Only a predator remained.
Amara didn’t wait before striding through the crowd. She shoved people out of the way, not bothering to apologise as she pushed forward. The hooded man only dipped his chin before heading out of the room, exiting down a small corridor that branched off from the hall.
Amara stalked after him, not losing sight of the dark figure as he bobbed through the crowd. She picked up her pace, side-stepping through the hordes of people before reaching the corridor.
Her breath knocked out of her as her eyes fell upon the man, his back turned to her. He froze halfway down the hallway, nothing more than a smudge of darkness against the pale marble.
Amara didn’t move, watching him carefully as he turned to look over one shoulder at her. The whole world seemed to flash red as he grinned from beneath his hood.
So long. It had been so long since she’d seen that face. His eyes flickered at her: one hazel, one jade.
Amara didn’t give him the chance to open his mouth before she was upon him. She had him shoved against the wall in a heartbeat, her fingers digging into his neck.
“You better start talking before I kill you in front of all these poor people,” she said with a lethal calm.
Frustration roiled in her blood as he didn’t so much as flinch. Instead, he raised a dark brow at her. “Careful, Amara darling. Don’t you have an act to uphold?” He made to look at her dress, the stunning pearl comb nestled in her hair.
Amara barked a laugh, angling her head. But she didn’t loosen her grip around his throat.
“I do,” she ground out, a small smile on her lips. “But one I don’t mind dropping if it means getting to dash your brains all over these walls.”
She kept her speech low and soft, aware of the couples hovering just at the end of the corridor.
“Now, now. That’s no way to talk to an old friend,” he smiled before reaching down and prying her hand off him.
Even with Amara’s full strength, he easily plucked her fingers away. He kept hold of her hand for a fleeting moment before she snatched it back, snarling. She had almost forgotten how powerful the ancient Valkrane were . . .
“You’re not my friend, Elias. Not after what you did.” It was an effort to remain calm as she managed a grim smile.
She could have sworn his face softened slightly. “I had no choice—”
“Oh, you had every choice.” She cut him off.
Amara bared her teeth before dropping her gaze to the floor. She couldn’t look at him. Not when the crack of leather whips echoed through her mind.
A phantom pain spider-walked down her spine. But she forced it away. Focusing only on him, and the firebirch stake he no doubt hid beneath his cloak.
Stay calm. She had to stay calm.
If the Valkrane had already found her . . . She needed to get to Fenn. She needed to escape.
Elias’s soft voice brought her back from her thought spiral. “You were going to die, Amara.”
Shadows flickered in his eyes, the strong panes of his face tightened in discomfort.
“Amara—” No.
Something broke within her. Rage flashed through her mind before she was on him again. This time, rubble and dust tumbled to the ground as she forced him against the wall. The chandelier swayed above, glass shards clinking together.
“You should have let me die,” she said through gritted teeth. “Because what you did to me, what you made me was so much worse than death.”
His face blanched then. She had him pressed against the marble, her forearm shoved across his chest. He didn’t try to struggle.
“I’m sorry,” Elias managed to get out. His eyes fell closed as sighed deeply.
Amara’s brows pinched together as she watched him.
She hated him. She hated him.
He had turned her all those years ago. He had cursed her, forced her to become the one thing she despised most in this world. A monster.
Elias, son of Fassar Valkrane, had known what it would do to her. But he did it anyway. Because of his selfish immortal heart.
When she had fallen victim of the blight that had swept through the lands, Amara had been days away from death. And she had welcomed it. It would have been a mercy to die in that way and not by the hands of a brutal murderer.
But Elias had ripped that opportunity away from her when he turned her into a bloodthirsty killer.
Any scrap of what she had left of herself had vanished. Amara had tried to hold on to who she was, desperately grappling for her soul as it drifted away from her. And when the light finally guttered, when life was but an unfamiliar face, the Amara she once knew was no more.
It had taken years after the initial transformation for emotions to return to her. First came fear, then grief, then finally a deep suffocating rage.
“This is your fault,” she spat.
Amara pulled away from him. Her hands fell to her skirts, bunching them in the gauzy material. It was all she could do to resist striking him.
His eyes flew open, finding hers. “You know why I couldn’t just let you die.”
Love. The word floated in the air between them.
Had it been love he felt for her back then? After saving her time and time again during Fassar’s punishments, maybe she had loved him. But only in the way a puppy loved its owner. Or the way a damsel glorified her saviour. But she was no damsel anymore.
Amara’s face scrunched up at the thought. She hated him.
“So what are you going to do now?” She fell behind that mask of chilling calm once more. Her features were deadly. “You know my location. Why not just tell your father and be done with it?”
“I’m not going to do that to you.” His face was grave as he leant against the wall, crossing his arms.
Amara hid her relief. “Why not?” she drawled, “I’m sure Fassar would offer you a grand reward for being such a good lapdog.”
There was a beat of silence whilst she waited for him to reply. But Amara hadn’t expected the words that slipped from his mouth.
“I want to help you
. . .”
She ignored the comment, and the way his eyes softened, a merge of brown and green. “How did you know I was here?”
Elias blinked at her question, at how she had brushed off his confession as though it meant nothing. But he shrugged, pushing off the wall to stroll towards her.
“People talk,” Elias’s voice was as soft as a lover’s. “Lady Lynessa has been popular news across Valmont. Except I happen to know what that lady looks like, and beauty is not something she possessed. In fact, the description I overheard matched that of a certain girl I used to know.” He winked.
Amara swallowed. If it had been that easy for him to suspect . . . she was surprised Fassar hadn’t ripped her heart out by now.
Elias seemed to read that on her face as he continued, “My father has no clue. We only arrived yesterday and he’s been scouting the slums. We found your apartment empty.”
It was an effort not to sag with relief but Amara kept her face expressionless, squaring her shoulders.
“And where does he think you are now?” she said, cocking her head to the side. The music from the orchestra still reached them down the hall, but instead of a melody, each note struck like a terrible lament.
He offered her a grim smile. “Out looking for you in the foothills. I have to admit, this plan of yours is rather genius. I don’t think my father would ever have the wit to search for you here.”
Amara couldn’t help the smug grin that crept onto her face. But the thought of Fenn out there alone soon wiped it away.
“Although, that doesn’t mean this idea of yours is foolproof. Eventually, you will slip up. This castle won’t protect you forever, Amara.”
“I’ve been running from you for centuries. What makes you think you’ll be able to catch me now?” She raised an arrogant brow, bracing her arms on her hips.
“Over the years you have grown stronger, yes. But so has he. And believe me, the Valkrane are thirsty for blood. Yours in particular.”
Amara rolled her eyes, flipping a sheet of dark hair behind her shoulder. “Dramatics,” she sighed. “To be honest, I thought they’d given up trying. It’s been decades since I’ve even heard a whisper of them.”
It was true. Amara, perhaps naively, believed she’d seen the last of the Valkrane. She had been prepared to settle in Valmont and stir up havoc until her dying days. But they were back. And she wanted to know why.
“Explain.” Amara simply put.
Elias’s jaw tightened. “Things haven’t been going well recently. More and more people are turning against Fassar. Before, he was willing to forget about you. But now he thinks the only way to silence the rebels is to bring back your head. A warning more than anything, to prove that no act can go unpunished.”
Amara’s gut tightened. He wants to bring back her head?
But instead, she loosed a low laugh. “I’m surprised it took so long for people to stop putting up with his bullshit.”
Elias shot her a warning glare. Maybe it was no time to joke, but she didn’t give a damn.
“So what do you suppose I do now then? Because the last time I checked, I rather valued having my head attached to my body.” Amara met him in the centre of the corridor, unfazed as he towered above her, a wall of solid muscle. His breath was a whisper on her face as he tilted his chin to meet her eye.
“You run.”
“Never going to happen.”
“You stay here, you die.” His words were ragged as he ran a frustrated hand through his dark hair.
Amara was just about to snap a reply when a drunken couple strolled past them on their way out of the hall, laughing as they clung to each other. Amara forced a smile before taking a step closer to Elias. He understood, slinging an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. Together, they were no more than a courting pair of royals seeking a quiet place away from the crowds.
As soon as the couple disappeared and the corridor fell silent again, Amara immediately pushed away. She couldn’t hide her disdain as she cleared her throat, trying to ignore the shadow of where his hands had been around her.
Elias matched her expression as he began to fix the buttons of his waistcoat. Though Amara noted the tremble in his fingers as he moved.
“I’m going to stay here,” she began, even as he shot her an incredulous look. “If it is a fight they want, then I’ll bring one. I’m done fleeing like a coward.”
Elias sighed. “There is nothing cowardly about wanting to survive, Amara.”
He talked to her as though she were a child, as though she was still the defenceless servant girl who had forgotten what it was like to live.
Amara furiously shook her head. She was not that girl anymore. Never again.
“I will kill them all,” she growled, her lips pulling back to reveal those glinting fangs.
“I don’t think it works that way.”
“I don’t think I care.”
Elias was silent for a moment. His eyes were wide in desperation as he studied Amara carefully. She could see the cogs of his ancient mind turning. His centuries of knowledge slowly piecing a plan together.
Elias went to open his mouth but she had already turned her back. Amara quickly launched into a walk down the corridor. She was done playing games. If he believed she would be foolish enough to trust him, the enemy, he could think again.
Amara was a slip of darkness as she rounded the corner. He wasn’t stupid enough to follow her.
But as Amara lost herself within the network of marble hallways, her ears pricked at the rumble of a low, soft voice. His voice. It caressed down her senses in smooth strokes. A message meant for her and her only. Too quiet for the human hearing to pick up.
Elias whispered one word before the distance between them became too great. One word that made her chest hollow and gut lurch. One word that could change everything.
Bloodmoon.
17
Amara was still wrapped up in fury as she neared the final corridor that led to her chambers. The rest of the castle was mainly empty, with most of the guards stationed in the royal hall and all of the remaining Winvaris residents enjoying the fine music and dances.
The silent hallways allowed Amara to vent her anger. No one was around to watch as she slammed her fist into the wall. Fissures spiderwebbed up the marble archways, but her knuckles weren’t even bruised. Sometimes she wished she felt it. The pain. But most days, it never came.
She narrowly avoided the Alley of Eyes on her way back, cursing as she caught sight of the gazing statues before she passed.
But her head felt heavy on her shoulders as she strode on. The word Elias had uttered to her in those final moments still ringing in her ears. Bloodmoon.
To most people that would just mean the annual celebration that marked the end of spring. But to Amara, it meant more. To vampires, it meant more. The Bloodmoon was the only event in nature that allowed the supernatural to channel enough power to bring down kingdoms. Wreck worlds.
Of course, many have tried. Yet none had ever succeeded. And it had cost them their lives.
A shiver skittered up her spine at the thought.
Those who wanted all the moon’s power were fools. And it came with a price. You either turned mad, overruled by hysteria, eventually taking your own life. Or, vaporised instantly, no more than a mist of blood. Amara had seen it happen before. Too many young vampires, hungry for domination. None of them lived to see the next moon rise.
But what did Elias mean? She would rather be ripped apart by the Valkrane than perform the Red Ritual during the Bloodmoon. It was a death wish. And one she didn’t want to wager with.
A growl rumbled in her throat as Amara rounded the corner, her fist threatening to pound the next wall she came to. Later. She would think about all this later.
Her smooth crystal door was in sight as Amara sighed with relief. She had never wished for the warm comfort of her bed more than she did tonight.
Amara was halfway over the threshold when she paused.<
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A small whimper drifted down the corridor. It was distant. But it was enough to make Amara turn and listen.
Again, the soft murmur reached her, followed by a low, male cackle. She recognised the voice instantly, and it was enough to so send her stalking in that direction.
Frankly, Amara didn’t care less when she found herself shoving Lord Bastion into the wall and away from the servant girl crouched on the floor. Tears streamed down her puffy face as she pulled her knees tightly to her chest. Her skirt was hitched up her leg but she quickly tugged it down.
Amara knew that face. Knew her name, as well.
“Nadia, go to your room and don’t look back,” Amara said softly, although her attention was on the lord now cradling his arm.
Nadia didn’t need to be told twice before she scrambled to her feet and rushed away down the corridor. Amara waited until the servant’s footsteps could no longer be heard before she scowled at Lord Bastion.
“You know it’s rude to touch a woman without asking.” Shadows flickered in her eyes as she stared him down. It was a gaze that made him flinch, pressing harder into the wall.
The lord opened his mouth, then closed it again. Opened. Closed. Open. Like a blubbering fish, Amara thought.
She cocked her head to one side as she waited for him to reply. But nothing came.
“You don’t have anything to say for yourself?” Amara began to tap her foot on the floor impatiently.
His throat bobbed. “I—I . . .”
It was pathetic, honestly.
Amara rolled her eyes, then punched the lord very hard in the face. He barked in pain, but she only struck him again, this time hooking his right jaw. Lord Bastion clasped his face, spitting blood onto the white marble, his eyes white with shock.
“Lady Lynessa I—”
His last words merged into a groan as she kneed him in the groin. Lord Bastion buckled over, cursing. Amara only smirked at the wounded man.
What a perfect excuse to take out her anger. But she wasn’t finished. Not yet.
She threw him against the wall before he could even blink, grinning as a crack that could only be bone ripped through the room.