Curse of Blood and Midnight

by Emily Inskip

  “What happened?” Nadia soothed, coming back to kneel beside Amara on the floor. “You can tell me.”

  Amara tried to reply but she choked on a sob, her words disappearing before they had even formed.

  “It’s okay, take your time. It’s—”

  In a moment of shock, Nadia gasped as Amara threw her arms around her. She clung to the other girl, burying her face into the threadbare fabric of her servant’s gown and began to cry. Nadia only pulled her tighter.

  The two of them sat in the dark together, holding each other for what seemed like hours. They stayed that way until her tears had dried and Amara could finally think straight. It was an odd sensation to have her arms around someone and not be attempting to kill them. Giving something rather than taking it away. Amara kept finding herself tense out of instinct, forgetting that this was a person she could trust. That this person was a friend. Friend, such a strange and unfamiliar word, but it was the most truthful word she’d used in a while.

  Although Nadia’s arms were painfully bony and dug into her shoulders, Amara savoured the embrace. It provided a surprising sense of safety that she’d never felt before, a contact that was so much stronger than any kind of punch that could be thrown. When was the last time she had hugged someone like this? Amara didn’t know.

  “Thank you,” Amara whispered, finally pulling away.

  Nadia watched her silently, a picture of concern on her face. “Lynessa, I’m worried about you. Please tell me what’s wrong?”

  A beat of silence, then—

  “I’m scared.”

  The words escaped her before she could stop it. But as they did, it was as if a heavy weight had been lifted off her chest. She’d been pushing her emotions away for too long, thinking they were a sign of weakness. Thinking that in every moment she had to be fearless, anything less was shameful. Because she was not that hopeless servant girl anymore. But it was only then that she realised, what if fear didn’t make you weak? What if confronting her emotions was the strongest thing she could do? Because it took a hell of a lot of bravery to admit something like that.

  And she had a lot to explain now.

  Amara swallowed, bowing her head towards her lap. “I’ve got to tell you something, and I’m sorry. You’ll probably hate me after I tell you. And I’ll understand, I promise I will. When you don’t want to see me again that’s fine, because I wouldn’t want to if I were you.”

  Nadia shook her head frantically as though she didn’t even know where to begin. “No,” she furrowed her brow. Her accent grew suddenly stronger as though she had been suppressing it all the times before. “How could you say that? You have been the only person to see me for me. You asked me my name when I believed people no longer cared. Lynessa, you made me feel as though still I belong in this world, that I’m not only here to go unnoticed and do meaningless work. You have been the closest thing I’ve had to family since my sister died. So, no. No, I won’t ever hate you.”

  Tears swelled in her eyes now, a small hopeful smile pulling her lips. “You can tell me anything, and I promise not to run away.”

  Amara didn’t know whether it was the darkness of the room or the new sense of freedom that burned in her veins, but she was willing to open up for the first time. To finally share the burden that had followed her like a shadow her whole life.

  “You should probably get comfortable. We could be here for some time.” She offered a weak grin and began.

  Amara was glad Nadia had opted to settle on the bed, propped up against the headboard, clutching a quilted pillow to her chest. She was half-surprised Nadia hadn’t flinched at a single thing she said. In fact, the witch was oddly calm, nodding every so often, accepting every syllable of what Amara had to say. She didn’t look frightened as she mentioned not being Lady Lynessa or the slight, tiny detail of Amara being a vampire. Nadia remained silent and patient as Amara tried to explain her history, the ancient war waged between her and the Valkrane and the reason behind her needing the room to be in complete darkness. In honesty, Amara was probably the most shaken of the two. Her nails were left as jagged stumps from where she’d been anxiously biting them whilst thinking of how to explain the mess that was her life.

  When she had finished, Amara brought her hands up to her face and kept them there. She didn’t like emotions. Because if she didn’t have them, she wouldn’t have to feel like this.

  “Amara?” Nadia used her real name for the first time. And it cracked something within her.

  Guilt flushed over her in an unstoppable tide. She couldn’t ignore the fact that she’d lied almost her entire time at Winvaris. When Nadia had been truthful and had opened up about her past, the story of her sister and everything else they had shared together, she’d thought Amara was someone else. Someone better.

  And Amara couldn’t bear to read the disappointment that would be written across Nadia’s face now.

  “Amara, look at me.” Nadia gently pried her hands away and held them tight.

  “Do you take back what you said?” Amara mumbled through the darkness, her eyes still dropped towards her lap.

  “About what?”

  “About never hating me.” She cursed herself when her voice broke

  Nadia was quiet for a while. Amara could only see the outline of her face in the gloom. There was no movement, and for a second Amara thought that this could all still be a dream. That she would wake up on the cold mosaic floor, her neck still sore from being snapped.

  “I would be a hypocrite if I judged you for your past,” Nadia’s words cleaved through the silence like a blade of Esterian steel. “It’s true that you’ve done bad things. You’ve made mistakes that I doubt the Gods would forgive . . . but I don’t think that’s what matters to you. You didn’t get this far by being good and truthful. You’re here because you’re a survivor, and no one can argue with that.”

  Amara felt like crying all over again. She clasped Nadia’s hands tighter. Because maybe people weren’t like shackles, chaining you in place. Maybe they were anchors, holding you safe until you are ready to let go.

  “In my village, we believed that every person has the right to do what they need to survive. That’s why my sister decided to leave home and work for that wretched lord. What I’m trying to say is, we all make bad decisions, Amara. All that matters now is how much you’re willing to set things right.”

  “That’s all I want,” Amara blurted. “I want to make things right. And I will, even if it’s the thing that kills me.”

  “You’re not getting it,” Nadia tilted her head as if in sorrow. “Dying is the easy way out of anything. The strongest thing you can do is go on. Make your peace, and keep living.”

  Amara thought she was dreaming as a haze of golden light suddenly began to spread from Nadia’s palm. It sifted between their joined fingers, glowing in radiant beams.

  Amara grinned at the power, the magic that pulsed and eddied around them. “I’m already dead, remember.”

  Nadia let out a small laugh. “I guess you are.”

  One flick of Nadia’s wrist set the fire blazing in the hearth. The gilded candelabras began to flutter into life with delicate flames on tiny wicks. Soon the entire room was awash with firelight, warmth and dancing shadows cast against the marble pillars and rich ink-dyed tapestries.

  When they had both moved to settle in the twin armchairs opposite the fireplace, Nadia finally spoke.

  “So, tell me more of this Bloodmoon Rite. I’ve only read about it in books. My mother’s grimoire contained snippets of the ritual, but I always believed it was just a tale. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to absorb the moon’s power. That source is too immense for any living being to endure.”

  Amara lazily pointed a finger towards herself. “Again, not living.”

  When Nadia shot her a serious glare, Amara only waved her away. “Don’t worry about the ritual; I don’t want you using your magic for me.”

  But Nadia only shrugged, curling her knees
up on the chair. “You’re changing your ways. Maybe I should, too.”

  “No,” Amara said firmly. “No, you don’t have to do that.”

  “It’s my decision. I want to help.” Nadia shook her head, her dark face gilded by the firelight.

  Amara smiled faintly as she realised Nadia had been eating well. Her high cheekbones were beginning to fill out, the shadow of her clavicle less prominent than before.

  “You really mean it?” Amara asked tentatively. She knew the risks of having Nadia involved. Fassar would find out eventually and then her only friend would have a target on her back. If anything happened, Amara didn’t think she could forgive herself.

  “Amara, let me help you,” Nadia smiled, resting her chin on the top of her knees. “God knows how many times you’ve done the same for me.”

  Amara ran a hand through her hair before sighing. “It’s going to be dangerous.”

  “I know.”

  She studied Nadia for a long moment, catching the hard determination across her face. Maybe Nadia needed this more for herself than anything else. To finally show that she was more than just another helpless servant. Amara knew the feeling.

  She smirked. “Then let’s do this.”

  Nadia returned the grin, her long graceful fingers trembling with what could only be adrenaline coursing through her veins.

  “There’s only one slight problem,” Amara said, running her fingers over where the suncharm should be around her neck. “I can’t leave this room.”

  Nadia’s eyes widened with realisation. “Of course,” she said, shooting out of the chair and whipping her hands on her already-stained apron. “I can enchant a new charm now.”

  She paced back and forth, circling the chairs as though she was trying to recall the spell. “I think I just need an amber pendant. Do you have one?”

  Amara looked blankly back at her.

  “I’ll take that as a no,” said Nadia. “Is there any way you can get one? It is the only stone that can capture the essence of sunlight and act as a protection ward for you.”

  Amara hesitated. “I could ask Aedric.”

  Nadia stopped in her tracks and spun towards her, a knowing smile spread across her face. “Let me guess, to add to all your lies you also don’t have a lover waiting for you in the south.”

  “Guilty,” Amara shrugged, and despite it all, she felt her cheeks heat.

  Nadia shook her head, although the corners of her lips still tweaked upwards. “Then ask the prince for a necklace and I’ll take it from there.”

  “Okay, and for now, could you please inform the rest of the castle that I’m quite ill and have retired to my chambers for the day.”

  “Of course, Lady Lynessa.” Nadia winked before turning on her heels to leave.

  “Wait,” Amara called out just as Nadia reached for the pearl door handle. “Thank you.”

  And she meant it. Gods, she really meant it. Nadia had been there for her when she thought no one cared. She had picked her back up and made that small voice of hope within her thrive.

  “It’ll be okay,” was all Nadia said before disappearing into the hallway.

  And somehow, Amara believed it.

  34

  Amara had lost count of the hours she waited alone in the shadows of her room. And despite how much she thought she hated company, the loneliness was greater than anything she’d experienced before. Even when she’d spent days up in her damp windmill opposite the Jarsli River, Amara had never felt this strange sort of emptiness. Perhaps it was because Amara had never expected much before. She had become accustomed to the solitary life, never waiting for someone to arrive and save her from isolation. But now, she was sat, on edge, longing for the appearance of her golden prince.

  She didn’t want to feel too confident, but Amara thought that he would’ve at least visited her by now. She wasn’t sure why she believed so. Sometimes she forgot he was a prince of the most powerful kingdom in the continent, with responsibilities and duties that didn’t involve her. Although she wanted to deny it, Amara didn’t know why she felt so disappointed when he didn’t knock on her door.

  Each time the door sounded, her breath hitched in anticipation only to be let down as a maid bustled in with an assortment of different remedies to soothe a headache.

  Was she meant to feel as dissatisfied as she did? Maybe she’d read Aedric wrong. Maybe he barely gave her a second thought and that their theatre visit was merely a way of making good connections with the Southern Isles. Either way, Amara couldn’t help the tugging annoyance. Because his lack of appearance also meant that she hadn’t been able to get her hands on an amber necklace. So she was still trapped in these stupid chambers.

  Amara had probably exhausted every method of entertainment available to her. She’d played the harp until her fingers were sore and she no longer knew what silence was. Amara had taken the time counting each tile in the colourful mosaic. Nine-hundred and forty-three to be exact. She couldn’t help but feel like she was wasting the precious hours she had before the Bloodmoon. And every moment where she wasn’t doing anything, her mind kept straying back to Fenn.

  He’s going to be okay, she thought, even if she didn’t quite believe it herself.

  The only time she had actually enjoyed her time was when Nadia had come to her rooms bearing a jug of still-warm animal blood from the kitchens. Amara had to hold her nose as she gulped down the unusual liquid. It wasn’t great, but it was enough to satisfy the rumbling of her hunger.

  “There’s an hour until sundown,” she said to Amara before hurrying off to her other duties. “Has he still not come?”

  Amara only shook her head and watched Nadia leave without another word.

  One hour, she thought, gazing up at the ceiling. I can wait one hour.

  I was the longest hour of her life. And when Amara finally decided to brave a peek behind the curtains, she almost cried with joy as she saw the dark navy sky as dusk set over the land.

  She didn’t wait another second before tearing out of her room and hurrying down the long empty corridors. It was hard to look as though she was recovering from sickness as she sped past the onlooking guards, but they didn’t seem to notice. Once she arrived outside the Prince’s quarters, grateful that she’d taken the time to explore the castle in her first few days, Amara bypassed the sentries posted either side of the door and knocked against the glossy wood.

  There was no answer.

  “The Prince is inside?” Amara asked the guard beside her, but he only stared straight ahead, unblinking at the wall opposite.

  Amara rolled her eyes. “Fine then.”

  She wrapped her fist against the door more forcefully this time and let her shoulders sag as she heard movement from within.

  The door swung wide and Aedric appeared, his face worn, shirt messily untucked from his slacks and unbuttoned low to expose the top of his chest.

  He blinked when he saw her waiting. “Amara?”

  “Hey,” she said hopefully, but he didn’t respond.

  They stood for a few beats in silence and Amara was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

  “Are you going to let me in?” she smiled faintly, finding it hard to look anywhere but into his dark eyes.

  Aedric looked from her to the guards, then back again. For a moment, Amara was afraid he would just send her away entirely. But then he stepped to the side, holding the door open for her as she edged in.

  It was hard not to gape at the size of his room, the large dome ceiling and leaded bay windows. His balcony jutted out over the chalky cliff face, crafted of marble like the rest in the castle, but his contained veins of gold that seemed to shimmer and glow.

  The door clicked behind Aedric and she spun back to face him. Amara tried not to stare for too long, but she struggled. His golden hair hung loosely around his face. His shirt sleeves were pushed back to his elbows exposing his tanned forearms. Gods, why couldn’t she tear her eyes away?

  “Did you want something?” he
asked bluntly and Amara didn’t want to admit how much it hurt.

  His words were all it took for her to realise the anger beneath his gaze and the bunched up tension in his shoulders. Why hadn’t she seen it before? He was pissed. But the question was, why?

  “Is something wrong?” She asked, taking a step forward.

  Aedric looked at her for a long hard moment and eventually sighed, running a hand down his face.

  “You didn’t come and see me today,” Amara said before she could think better.

  “Did you want me to?”

  Yes. “I don’t know.”

  He only shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please just tell me what you want, Amara.”

  There was a lot of things she wanted. Mostly, she just wanted to be able to go out during the day. But somehow, Amara didn’t think that was what he was asking.

  “What do you mean?” she murmured, suddenly feeling so small in the cavernous room bedecked with luxuries many people wouldn’t ever be able to afford.

  “Why are you here tonight?” he said. “Why did you come to the theatre with me? Why did you touch my hand like it meant something? I just want to know what you’re looking for. Amara, what do you want?”

  She blinked at the questions. And instead of answers, all Amara felt was a sudden wave of annoyance.

  “You’ve got to be joking,” she rolled her eyes, striding towards him until they were almost inches apart. “Can a woman not join you at the theatre without any further expectations of her? Can we not just spend time together without you wanting more?”

  Of course, Amara did want more. But still, his assumptions were brash and rather irritating, to say the least.

  “Yes, of course.” Aedric seemed to backpedal, his brows knitting together in worry. “Of course, but . . . I don’t know. This morning I got up for an early run, I happened to be walking by your room when I saw you with another man. He followed you inside and I don’t know why but I felt something. I’m sorry, it’s not my place. I know shouldn’t be mad . . .”