Vengeful Prince

by Mary E. Twomey

  Alexavier and I lock our gazes on Des, who raises his chin to avoid squirming. “Great-grandfather already made up his mind about me years ago. I’m ‘not bold enough for the throne,’ I believe were his exact words. No doubt because warmongering has never been my thing. He has no plans to hand the throne to me or my father. He’s probably going to finally get himself a wife once he meets you, so he can make a new child who can someday take the throne.” He throws up his hands with a “who cares” shrug. “Or he’ll live forever and never give up his hold on the throne. Either way, none of this is on you, Lilya.”

  “Lily,” she corrects him. “Lilya makes it sound like I’m in trouble.”

  “As you like it, Lily.” Des winks at her, and she slides her thumb across his, bonding them even closer.

  I hate Des’ family. Granted, Des isn’t ready to rule much of anything. I’d never tell him tha, but it’s true. I know because I’m one of the two decision makers for Jacoba. There’s no way he could handle tha kind of pressure. He gets drunk every time his mammy has an affair, the softy. Des drinks too much and too often, which ye can’t do if you’re answering to an entire territory. He’s great at being a prince—keeping the people happy with his antics and kissing the occasional baby so everyone fawns over his relatability. Tha’s the one thing I don’t have. Des should always be a prince. He keeps his people happy. Let King Ronin deal with the rest.

  King Ronin’s going to have his hands full, fielding the shitestorm we’re about to rain down on his kingdom. Alex and I talked about it at great length before we pitched the marriage idea to Des. Alex could’ve been the one to marry a woman from another race, but he’s merely liked and respected in his territory. Des is beloved. If he wears a tea cozy on his head, half the country thinks he’s a brilliant fashion monger.

  Des holds Lily’s hand between both of his, too unnerved to get by with just her little finger, or just one of his hands on hers. “We met four months ago. That’s still a whirlwind romance, but not too off the wall to be believable.”

  “Des is impulsive, so that’s something the public will swallow,” Alex provides, leaning forward. “What was she wearing, Des? The first time you saw her, what was she wearing?”

  Des closes his eyes and inhales. “Mm. A sexy red number that shows off far too much thigh.”

  Lily guffaws. “I thought the point of this was to be believable.”

  Des brings her fingers to his lips and gives them a caddish kiss. “Darling, in my imagination, you’ve worn all sorts of sultry things.”

  This is fine. Des isn’t one of the drunk lowlifes at her bar who grabs her butt and talks to her chest. He’s being charming, which he’s done with hundreds of women. This is fine. It’s fine.

  Lily chuckles. “Yes, but the best lies are rooted in the truth. I don’t own any dresses, much less a red one that’s all sexy.”

  “Mm. Must remedy.”

  “Mm. Must be joking,” she echoes with the first genuine smile she’s worn since we crossed over into Drexdenberg. “I was wearing exactly this. I’ve got two work uniforms and two pairs of jeans. Those are your options, sugarlips.”

  They’re so natural together, joking and teasing like they’ve known each other for years. They’ll fool the kingdom, for sure. They’re fooling me, and perhaps fooling themselves if they think the spark between them is fabricated. I see it all clearly. She’s going to bury her nose in his neck one day, and not just because she’s afraid of heights.

  This is fine. This was the plan.

  Alex drills them with question after question until the carriage comes to a stop well before we’re supposed to arrive. There’s no way we could be at the palace already. The horse neighs its terror, and then takes off at a run, jerking our carriage forward at an alarming speed. Lily shrieks, and my blood runs cold. She’s scared, and we’re not even to the castle yet.

  Somehow the carriage comes loose from the horses, and we come to a bumpy stop.

  I poke my head out the window and growl. Of course they gave us a carriage no one would suspect might carry Des. I looked for markings, but perhaps I missed something tha alerted lowlife vampires with too much bravado tha an enemy was traipsing through their land in said carriage. Tha must be why the guards protested Des taking this particular one.

  When I bring my head back inside, Alex and I lock eyes. He draws his bow and readies an arrow. My hackles raise, barking to Des with a warning to stay inside and let us handle this.

  An arrow whooshes through the window, landing smack in the shoulder of Des’ broken arm. Lily screams, and I jump out the door, ready to defend my family to the death.

  12

  Arrows and Daggers

  Lilya

  “Breathe, Des. Breathe through it. Just a little yank, and it’s out.” Though truthfully, I know it won’t be as simple as that. The arrow’s gone straight through his shoulder, stuck with the tip pointing out the back and the feathers rustling from the front. I have to cut it in two pieces, or when I push it through, the ends might snag on something important.

  I didn’t kill him. I didn’t use my magic. We’re in Drexdenberg, which should be the one place Des would be safe.

  That’s when it dawns on me that this arrow wasn’t meant for him, but for the foreigners.

  It’s not a silver arrow. It’s straight pain, not burning that I see screaming from his eyes. He grips my hand, and I’m certain he’s going to faint from the agony of it all. He’s breathing through his teeth, locking his gaze with mine as I slide my knife from my thigh holster. It needs to be sharpened, but really, I’ve learned you can do just as much damage with a dull blade as you can with a sharp one. He’s barely upright on the bench, but I know if he blacks out, it’s going to make the injury even worse if I can’t get the arrow out first.

  The left side of my knife is serrated, so I saw, apologizing in a steady stream because I know the arrow’s jiggling his innards. I hear Prince Salem growling and tearing something just outside where we sit. The sound of Lexi’s “oof!” sends my racing heart into overdrive. No one should ever hurt Lexi. He’s too sweet to be in a fight like this.

  When the door of the carriage flings open and a stranger climbs inside with murder in his crazed golden eyes, I swallow my scream that I know won’t do me a lick of good. My fist flies quick and true, snapping the vampire’s head to the side with a single punch. I kick him in the stomach, then cup the nape of his neck and push him back out into the fray, headfirst.

  “Are you alright?” Des asks, his eyes wide and voice breathy. He’s just about the nicest person in the world to care if I’m okay while he’s currently skewered by an arrow.

  “Totally fine. I hope his buddies saw me clock him right good,” I mutter as I swipe the stray curls from my forehead and continue sawing through Des’ arrow while he howls. He’s sweating and squirming, biting into his lower lip while his nostrils flare. I hate everything about this, but years spent with Fiora taught me that you can’t listen to the patient until they’re out of the woods. Get the arrow out, then care about how Des is coping.

  Finally the end of the arrow breaks off. Before I can warn Des to brace himself, I shove the whole thing through his shoulder and rip it out the other end. I’ve seen Fiora do it a few times, but I’ve never had to be the healer before. I hate it. I don’t want to hurt this sweet man. Des’ cries fill the carriage, scaring me that anyone can make such a wounded sound.

  I scramble to his good side when his cry is cut short by a heavy sway. His eyes roll back, and he nearly falls off the bench before I can secure his head to my breast as I kneel on the bench beside him. “Easy, sugar knees. Easy. The worst part is over.” I’m terrified, but at least my voice fakes calm well enough.

  He moans, rousing just enough to let me know he’s still got some fight left in him. The right side of his body is coating itself in blood. Vampires are bleeders, that much I know from breaking up too many barfights. I try to center Des’ weight while I snag the blanket that was cast onto
the floor. I have no idea how to treat someone who’s bleeding too much to be stitched up, but a compress seems the way to go. I press the blanket to the front and the back of the wound, hoping this will do… anything.

  Des stiffens when a second intruder jumps into the carriage, but that’s the most energy he’s got.

  The man’s boots are heavy with purpose. He’s got a snarl buried beneath three days’ worth of scruff on his chin. “Fae scum in Drexdenberg? You’re about to learn how stupid you are.” The proper-sounding accent of the vampire people is only made more strange to my ears when cruelty spills out of their lips.

  The holster on my thigh is for emergencies only, which I understand now I’ve landed myself smack in the middle of. There’s no debate in my mind or pause to my swing when my hand clutches the dagger I keep on my person at all times. The blade lands with a thump and a promise of permanence, sliding between the ribs of the crazy-eyed man with combed hair and curses on his lips.

  He thinks the worst that’s happening is pain, but he’s wrong. There’s always something worse than pain. My thumb slides over the button on the hilt. Regret fills me as I push it, but that doesn’t stop me. I’m not sure anything ever will. This is who I am.

  Silver spikes snap out from the hilt, pricking this man, this stranger. I want to feel nothing, but I always feel everything whenever I take a life, however justified. I don’t want to fight him, but I know who I am.

  I’m a murderer. Always have been.

  His breath stills with a shock that I’ve taken his life from him without a word. I collect his last breath, storing it in my fractured soul where I trap it alongside the last breaths of the rest of the people I’ve murdered, either by accident or necessity.

  Most everyone in Neutral Territory knows not to cause trouble in my bar because I don’t give warnings. The warning is clearly displayed on my thigh holster, so I don’t feel the need to bother with words. Words can distract from the truth, which should be delivered harsh and swift when there’s an attack on the throne, even if it’s the vampire throne.

  I am a general’s daughter, after all.

  I retract the silver back into the hilt and clean my knife on the gasping man’s shirt before I kick his body out and sheathe my dagger. Then I turn back to Des, putting pressure on the wound again.

  Des is shivering, which I’m thinking is a bad sign. “Did you kill him? Is there silver in your dagger?”

  I bite down on my lower lip. “No, no. It’s my giant hug. That’s what I gave the man coming after you. A giant hug.”

  “Lilya, I…”

  I shush Des and give him what I hope looks like a reassuring smile. I don’t like killing people. I haven’t killed anyone in a really long time. Most in Neutral Territory know not to mess with me. I’m Fiora’s girl. They come to us when they’ve been poisoned, when they’re sick or diseased. We help them. Aside from the occasional grabby hands, I don’t get roughed up all too often. It’s been almost a year since I last killed someone.

  I don’t even realize the fighting’s stilled until Lexi climbs into the carriage, swearing loudly at the sight. “Are you alright, Lily? Did you get hit?”

  “No, I didn’t get hit, and no, I’m not alright. I’m freaking out! Des is bleeding! I got the arrow out, but I can’t get the blood to stop! We have to get him to Fiora. She’ll know what to do!”

  Lexi fixes his eyes on the broken weapon I removed from his friend. “It’s not silver. Okay. Damage control is getting more blood into his system before he loses himself and starts attacking random meat bags for sustenance. Keep pressure on the wound.”

  I can barely understand him; my head is all over the place. So much blood. “I can’t give him my blood! I’m on Green Lightning!” On top of which, fae blood is only useful as sustenance if it’s been properly filtered.

  But Lexi isn’t listening to me. He bends Des forward at the waist and hikes his shirt up, reaching for… a disk? A little maroon puck no bigger than a coin is taped to the small of Des’ back. I rip it off and hand it to Lexi, my fingers trembling as I try to keep the blanket in place.

  Des’ face is sallow. This is happening far quicker than it would for a fae or a shifter. He’s sweating so badly, I’m certain all the moisture in his body is deserting him.

  Lexi squeezes Des’ cheeks so his mouth pops open. Then he slides the half-inch thick circle inside, placing it atop Des’ tongue. Then Lexi winches his mouth shut and waits for Des to swallow, resting his friend’s head against the back of the carriage. “That’s good,” he breathes. “The worst is over. He’ll recover. We’ll get him to the palace and have the healer stitch him up. Just keep pressure on the wound while I help Salem with the prisoners.”

  “Prisoners?” I echo, worried that I’ve been in Drexdenberg all of forty minutes, and I’m already in way over my head. “We’re leaving them alive after they attacked Des?”

  “The arrow was no doubt meant for me or Salem. I think being labeled a poor shot is a punishment one should have to live with for quite some time. One casualty.” Lexi lowers his chin, as if the life of a criminal matters. I don’t understand it.

  My upper lip curls. “Hold onto Des. I’ll take care of the prisoners.”

  Lexi eyes me warily, as if I’ve said something disconcerting. “Salem’s rounding them up. How do you intend to ‘take care’ of them?”

  I tap the dagger in my thigh holster.

  Lexi touches his lips. “You can’t be serious.”

  I shrug, keeping my tone light. “Well, I tried killing with kindness, but it turns out, silver works far quicker. I don’t have much patience when my escort gets shot.”

  Lexi’s blond eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. “You can’t have a silver dagger in Drexdenberg! That’s an act of war. The whole point of our arrangement is to promote peace.” Then he shakes his head, as if catching a bigger argument in the midst of the one he’s in. “You killed that man out there?”

  I cast my arm out while still supporting Des, incredulous that this is a big shock. “Did you want me to let him run me through? It was me or him. Did I choose wrong?”

  “No, I… I cannot picture it. Maybe that’s a good thing.” Lexi grips my fingers. “Keep pressure on Des’ wound, and put that thing away.” He glances at the weapon strapped to my thigh, as if it’s some big scandal. Everyone in Neutral Territory knows I carry a dagger with silver pricks in the hilt. It’s how I keep the brawling out of the bar. They don’t try too many shenanigans because they know I don’t mess around.

  Though I have questions and protests aplenty, Lexi exits the carriage and leaves me with the vampire on the cusp of… I’m honestly not sure, but it doesn’t look good. I don’t hear any fighting outside, only the dragging of bodies through the dirt and the grunt when they’re thrown… somewhere. I hold Des’ head to my chest, combing my fingers through his hair.

  Fiora’s gnarled fingers were so soothing, doing this exact motion whenever I was infected with something severe enough that I took a day off of work. She made me tea and laid me on the mattress, sitting beside me so she could tangle her fingers through my hair. I didn’t break down often, but her sweet maternal affection was something I desperately needed. I never knew my own mother, and the General wasn’t exactly the nurturing type. Gentleness I didn’t know I was suffocating without was combed through my tangles, drawing tears out of me that I didn’t understand. Now that I’ve got Des in my arms while his body tries to figure out if it’s going to fight or flee, I view the world in a new light.

  Fiora loves me. When I was in pain, she was in agony.

  Though I don’t know Des and can’t possibly love him, I love what he stands for. I love that he’s risking everything, even his life, for this cause of unifying the territories. So I kiss the top of his head, as Fiora did to me, and hold him while he bleeds. “It’ll be alright,” I promise.

  He’s too polite to call me out on my blatant lie. This is the tip of the iceberg. That arrow was meant for outsiders, which I
will always be. I don’t belong anywhere, but just maybe I belong with this band of brothers, keeping them upright when the world falls around us.

  “I’m sorry,” Des mumbles. “You shouldn’t be in this mess. My fault.”

  I make sure to keep pressure on the wound as best I can. The nuances of his olive-tinted features are hard to make out in the flickers of lantern light that occasionally find us from where they shine out in the street, but I catch glimpses of his agony, and it tears me up. I didn’t anticipate that—getting attached to a vampire. But Des has that way about him, the no-pressure, casual smile that makes you want to know more, to be near someone so unruffled.

  I clear my throat and try to remind myself that this isn’t the time to get all mushy about a boy. “You’re a talented guy, shooting yourself in the shoulder with an arrow. If you did that, then I’d say you’re right; this is all your fault.” I kiss his hair again. “We’ll make a plan. We’ll figure this out together.” I can’t imagine my words reassure him. I mean, what help am I in this situation? I don’t know the terrain. I’m going to be the flip of a switch that sets everything on its head, but I can make it all better by… playing with his hair? I hang my head, mortified that I’m not more useful for things like warfare, roadside attacks and healing vampires. “I’ll get better at this.”

  The carriage starts moving, and I hear Lexi at the front near the horses, no doubt taking over as our coachman.

  I glance around the inside of the solid wood structure that’s been painted with gold trim on the ceiling. The benches are smooth, and the curtains trimmed with lace—delicate details in the middle of the macabre. “I haven’t been in a carriage since I was a little girl. I barely remember the thrill of it. If you’re going to pick a place to bleed out, this is the spot to do it. So fancy.”