Curse of Blood and Midnight

by Emily Inskip

  Now she knew the wall of the garden was behind her, it only took logic to work out which direction the castle lay.

  And all she had to do was run for it.

  Soon enough, the magnificent marble walls and gilded domes of Winvaris were in sight.

  Relief flooded her as she broke through the treeline, Enid a quivering ball in her arms. She couldn’t help but notice that no guards were stationed by the doorway to the castle, but Amara could consider that later.

  They were no more than a hundred yards from the palace when something jolted into her, knocking Amara off balance. Only for a split second, but it was enough to make Enid wail.

  “Someone had better explain to me what is going on!”

  Amara knew that voice. The smug and conceited cadence. It could only be . . .

  “Lady Myria, just shut your mouth and run,” Amara said, already beginning to move forwards.

  She didn’t bother to think of why the lady was in the garden alone, or how the hell she had managed to survive the maws of that horrific beast.

  “But I’m in my best dress,” she whined, folding her arms.

  Amara turned, shooting her an incredulous look. “Yes, and you look lovely. Now run.”

  “I—” But the ghastly howl of the beast in the woods quickly cut her off.

  It was enough to send the lady bolting.

  They hurried up the steps; the doors to the castle were wide open, unfortified in every way. Honestly, where were those useless guards?

  As soon as they were all inside, Amara dropped Enid gently and hauled the double oak doors shut. The slam echoed down the wide empty corridors behind them.

  Lady Myria bent forward, hands on her knees as she gasped for breath. “What was that thing?” A breath. “Why did it suddenly go so dark?” Another. “Where have all the guards gone to? Someone better explain. Now.”

  Amara was still peering out of the small lattice window beside the door. She wondered if Elias had managed to kill the beast. Whatever the hell it was.

  “Why don’t you start by explaining what you were doing outside by yourself,” Amara mused, turning around to face her.

  Enid quickly moved to stand beside Amara. She was sucking her thumb silently, her other hand clutching the skirt of Amara’s gown.

  Lady Myria shook her head. “I went to visit the stables.”

  Amara narrowed her eyes, waiting for more. Red suddenly crept into the lady’s cheeks.

  “What? Can I not just go to the stables without being accused of something or other?” Lady Myria sucked in a breath. “There is a man there who works with the horses and we . . . get along. Anyway, I don’t see how any of this is relevant.”

  Amara grinned. It seemed everyone was keeping secrets around here. Who knew the royal Lady Myria would take a fancy to a common stable boy?

  “It’s not relevant,” Amara simply stated. “I just wanted to see you squirm.”

  The lady let out a frustrated huff, her face twitching slightly in annoyance.

  “As for what was going on outside, a wolf got into the gardens unnoticed. It must have slipped in from the mountain passes.”

  Lady Myria threw her arms up in disbelief. “This is outrageous! I was assured the castle was protected and safe from those foul vermin. Where are the guards? I need to complain immediately!”

  Before Amara could reply, Myria had already stormed away, muttering inaudible curses beneath her breath.

  Good riddance, Amara thought as she watched her disappear down the corridor, a blot of blonde against the pale marble.

  A tug on her skirt had Amara dropping her gaze to Enid still standing beside her, eyes puffy and red.

  “What was that really?” she sobbed a little as she spoke.

  Amara furrowed her brow. “It was a wolf, like I said.”

  She shook her head. “No, it wasn’t.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  Enid sighed, her eyes lingering on the door as if it would burst open and the creature would appear. “Is the monster dead now?”

  Amara, too, began watching the door. She hesitated. “Yes.”

  It wouldn’t have escaped Elias. No, that beast was definitely dead. She could be sure of it.

  “I’m sorry for calling you ‘Amara’,” Enid said quietly.

  “It’s fine,” she found her saying. “You can call me whatever you like.”

  Amara wasn’t sure why she had been willing to go down fighting to protect her. But Enid seemed to represent everything good in the world. And that in itself was worth defending.

  “My brother called a meeting for all of the guards to attend. He said he wanted to make an example of a Lord. It was only meant to be short but that is probably the reason they’re not here,” Enid squeaked before popping her thumb in her mouth once more.

  Amara nodded. She wished Lord Bastion had been conveniently in the path of the beast as it raged through the gardens. Shame, really.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Amara was surprised at the softness in her own voice as she stared down at the girl.

  It was Enid’s turn to nod. “I’m brave, remember?”

  The ghost of a smile flickered on Amara’s face. “I remember.”

  She crouched down, gently touching Enid by the shoulder. “Now go to your room and don’t come out until morning, okay? Don’t tell anyone what you saw.”

  Enid frowned. “Why?”

  “Because most people aren’t as brave as you,” Amara said. “It’ll only scare them.”

  Enid chuckled a little, although her face was still pale. Her cluster of freckles were stark upon her nose.

  Amara rose to her feet, turning her back as Enid shuffled away, not playfully skipping as she usually did.

  But that was understandable. They had just escaped death, after all.

  Not escaped. You were saved, Amara thought, clenching her fists as she glared at the doors. No matter how much she wanted to deny it, Elias had saved them.

  Amara knew they would have survived fine without his help. She’d have been able to take down that beast. But it would have been long and bloody, and not something she particularly wanted to endure. He merely saved her from having to muddy her dress. Not that there was much left of it after tearing through the forest.

  Amara heard him coming before he even reached the top of the stairs. The door silently swung open and Elias slipped in, hair tousled, blood splattered across his white tunic.

  His eyes seemed to brighten as he saw Amara stood there, very much alive. Well, as alive as the undead could be.

  “Amara⁠—”

  “What the hell was that thing?” She didn’t bother with gratitude, not when a sudden surge of anger roiled in her veins.

  “I don’t know,” he said smoothly, his face tired and wan as he folded his arms.

  Amara narrowed her eyes. “You’re meaning to say your father wasn’t behind all this?”

  Silence settled between them. She could almost detect sadness in his features, but it was gone before she could be sure.

  “I didn’t know he would do this,” Elias said at last. “Amara, I’m sorry I⁠—”

  “It means he knows I’m here,” Amara growled. “Gods, Elias, it’s not even been a day and you’ve already betrayed me.”

  Her mind was spinning; all she could see was red, it clouded her vision like a mist of blood.

  His throat bobbed. “I only told him that you could be here. I never confirmed anything, I swear.”

  “Why did you have to tell him anything at all?” Amara’s voice boomed down the corridors. She was glad no one was around as she snarled.

  Elias flinched. It was the only flash of emotion he conveyed. The only sign that he could be afraid. “He’d know I was lying to him if I said nothing. And then both our heads would be on pikes. Look, it’s better this way, trust me.”

  Amara let out a frustrated hiss. “How do you expect me to trust you when you keep so many damn secrets?”

  “I wouldn’t do anything
to hurt you.”

  “The raging beast outside would beg to differ.”

  “The dead beast outside,” Elias corrected.

  Amara shook her head, her brows furrowed in irritation. “I’ve never known a vampire to have enough power to summon something like that. Not without the help of a very powerful witch.”

  “Fassar has been working on new methods. He’s been so private about it, even I have no clue what he’s doing.”

  “I’m sorry, what’s that I smell?” Amara scrunched up her nose. “Oh, that’s right. A whole big pile of horse shit.”

  “That wasn’t a lie,” Elias said grimly. “All I know is that Fassar wouldn’t brave visiting the castle himself. There’s too much of a risk. He’s an ancient face in these halls, he’s well known by the guards and the royals themselves. No more than a horror story passed down from generations, but enough to seem suspicious. It explains why he sent the beast to do his dirty work. That was his first move. What will be yours?”

  Amara gulped. She wasn’t planning on waging a war with a tyrant. A battle she was sure to lose if she fought alone. Unless . . .

  “The Bloodmoon is the only way?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  Amara nodded slowly as if contemplating her options. Which, she should point out, were few and far between.

  “Then I will think on it,” she said at last, ignoring the gut-lurching horror that crept into her as she imagined enduring the Red Ritual.

  Elias straightened as though he hadn’t expected her answer. He ran a hand through the dark thorns of his hair, blood now crusting in his scalp. “Think on it, then meet me tomorrow night. I promise to help you, Amara.”

  “And what do you want in return?” She looked up and their eyes locked. He seemed to blink, caught off guard for a moment.

  “Nothing,” he began shaking his head, “I only want to help.”

  Amara cocked her head to one side. “I find that hard to believe. Through my years I’ve learnt that no man will do anything without a price.”

  “But I am not a man,” he said, his lips widening to a grin. Enough so that she could see his canines flash.

  “No, but you’re monsters all the same.” She turned to leave, sparing one last glance out of the small leaded window at the darkness beyond.

  The lustrous shape of the moon gleamed amongst the stars, a perfect crescent hanging in the sky.

  Six days, she thought before hurrying down the corridor. Six days until the Bloodmoon rises and all hell breaks loose.

  And Amara would have a front row seat.

  21

  Amara was already pacing across her balcony as the sun began to rise, and the small songbirds nesting in the mountain hollows awoke to hum their merry tune.

  She couldn’t sleep.

  Not only did her regular nightmares of Fassar and the Valkrane plague her mind, but now also thoughts of the Bloodmoon and the extreme risk she would be taking. Sometimes both.

  She wondered if Fenn was okay. If a monster like the one she had encountered last night had hunted him as well. Or if he was still in the country at all. They had agreed that she would remain in the castle for a week. But if she followed through with the Red Ritual, that would mean staying in Winvaris for an extra five days. Would he be all right until then? Would she even live to see her brother again?

  It was too much. Too much racing through her head that sleep was a fool’s hope. Instead, she marched back and forth, unable to remain still for more than a minute.

  Once Aedric had dismissed the guards from their meeting, they probed through the garden until the early hours of the morning in search of the wolf Lady Myria had alerted them about.

  They found nothing.

  Now, Amara watched as the final shift of men patrolled around the garden perimeter, spears angled, ready to strike. Whatever Elias had done with the monster’s carcass, Amara didn’t want to know. But he’d destroyed all evidence of what had happened that night, down to a single fleck of blood. She wasn’t sure if he’d done it to avoid suspicion from the royals, or to cover his father’s tracks. Either way, he’d done an exceptional job.

  After what could have been over an hour, Amara finally stopped, bracing her arms on the balcony railing and allowing the cool air to sweep over her. She was covered in goose flesh as the wind brushed up her bare limbs, hardly shielded by her dainty satin nightgown. She didn’t feel the cold, but her body still reacted to it as though she were alive. Perhaps it was hard to forget something so innate, a built-in defence. Amara wondered whether every vampire experienced these things, or whether it was simply her body’s way of protesting against what had been done to it. The life that was stolen too soon.

  Amara shook her head, beginning to turn back inside when she froze, gaping at the girl before her.

  The gardener she had used as a human blood bag was stood, staring glassy-eyed on the threshold of the balcony doors.

  Amara frowned. No one can creep up on me. I’d have to be blind and deaf first.

  But there was no denying that the girl had done just that.

  “You best tell me what you’re doing here before I drain your sorry corpse.”

  It was dangerous having her here. If Fassar had eyes on the castle, which Amara certainly believed he did, any sign of suspicion was a risk. And having a girl with a bright red scarf around her neck was a target practically begging to be hit. If the gardener was the smoke, Amara was the fire. So why was it returning to the flames?

  When the girl didn’t reply, Amara only pushed on. “How did you know where to find me?”

  There was no response, not even a flinch at her words or the abrasive tone. Instead, the girl moved soundlessly forward, her eyes somehow distant, unfocused. Amara cleared her throat before waving a hand in front of the girl. “Hello? Anyone there?”

  Not even a flicker of acknowledgement passed across her face, and Amara couldn’t help the annoyance that bubbled up. She stared incredulously as the girl approached her. But instead of stopping, the gardener only continued past her, until she was pressed against the railings, staring out over the distant foothills.

  Amara spun on her heels, marching to take up a position beside her, her glare like lethal daggers. She opened her mouth as if to say something, then decided against it. What is the point? I’ve tried being nice. Now let’s see how she reacts to force. Amara grunted in frustration before pulling the girl round to face her. When she still didn’t respond, Amara began snapping her fingers, and when that didn’t work, she went about violently shaking the girl.

  “Stop with this nonsense,” Amara snapped.

  Silence.

  “I said—” but she was cut off by the soft words that escaped the gardener’s lips.

  “He’s coming for you.”

  Amara stiffened. “What?”

  “You think you’re so clever. But he knows, and he’s coming.”

  “Stop it,” said Amara.

  “He looks forward to tearing off your head.”

  “Stop it,” she hissed louder.

  The girl paused and smiled, yet it didn’t quite reach her eyes. There was no emotion in her voice as she spoke. “But he hasn’t decided what to do yet. Kill you first, or make you watch as he rips out your brother’s heart.” She tilted her head. “Which would you prefer?”

  Amara couldn’t think above the suffocating rage. It screamed, thrashing against its restraints. Before Amara knew what she was doing, she’d struck the girl hard across the face. But the girl only laughed, her eyes wild as though possessed by another power.

  Amara panted, stumbling away. Fenn. She had to find Fenn. She needed to know what exactly Fassar knew.

  But before she could even form the next question, the girl gave her a wide smile, then slowly tilted backwards.

  Amara blinked. “Wait—”

  By the time she realised what was happening, it was too late. In a heartbeat, the girl had closed her eyes and flung herself from the balcony.

  No.
<
br />   Amara rushed to the railing, leaning over just in time to catch her hit the rocky mountainside below. The body tumbled, smacking into jagged ridge after jagged ridge. Like a ragdoll, it plummeted downwards, leaving a trail of crimson blood in its wake. When it finally came to a halt at the bottom of the ravine, even Amara grimaced at the bones bent at awkward angles, flesh mangled, skull cracked in two.

  She swallowed as she took in the barely recognisable figure of the girl below.

  Fassar had done this. Whatever magic he was tampering with was powerful enough for him to control people over a distance. And this was just the start. A warning and a threat to provoke her into showing her hand.

  He knew better than anyone what would affect Amara the most. Killing a defenceless servant girl was a message loud and clear that he would stop at nothing until she was dead. He was playing with her.

  Well, game on.

  She clenched her jaw, a dark ire burning in her eyes as she glared down at the shadow of the girl. It was a fire that would never gutter, an eternal flame.

  Amara had been readying herself for this ever since she escaped his control all those years ago. She hadn’t become a lethal killer by sitting back and doing nothing. She was a fighter. A survivor.

  You’ve made your move, now it’s time I made mine.

  ∞∞∞

  “Are you sure you’ll be all right, Lady Lynessa?” the Queen asked, one arm draped around Amara’s shoulders.

  Amara adjusted her weight, snivelling quietly with her hands in her lap. They were both perched on the side of her mattress as guards filtered into her chambers, assessing the balcony’s dimensions and the point from which the servant fell. There were at least a dozen, including the guards stationed by the wall, keen eyes watching the Queen’s every move. Then there were those down on the mountain passes below, scraping what they could of the girl’s body from the rocks.

  Amara sniffed once as she wiped away her tears. “Yes, I should be fine.”

  She’d claimed that the girl had taken her own life. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t strictly true, either. Fassar had orchestrated the murder in his own twisted ways. But, of course, Amara couldn’t tell the Queen about that.