by Rye Brewer
This stopped her in her tracks, no more than two paces from where I sat. “What?”
“You think he’ll stay anywhere near you or his family once he knows I’m gone?” I asked. “Do you truly know nothing about him? He would never remain in this area if he so much as suspected you or anyone in his family had anything to do with my disappearance and death. It’s enough that he wants nothing to do with the family fortune or his name—but knowing I met my end here will be the last straw. He’ll go, and he’ll never come back, and you will never, ever be a De Clerq!”
She roared, throwing her head back as she did, revealing tendons in her neck which bulged as she strained. For the first time since her entrance, she brought to mind a wild animal.
An animal I was trapped with. An animal who intended to kill me.
When she went silent, I thought for certain that I’d reached the end.
Instead, she looked toward the open door, suddenly very still.
“What is it?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.”
“Silence,” she hissed, still listening. “I heard something. Footfalls.”
“I heard nothing but you, making a fool of yourself.”
“You wouldn’t hear it.” She smirked. “Nothing but a bloodsucker. We have more heightened senses than bloodsuckers.”
“Good for you,” I muttered, but she held up a manicured hand to stop me.
Now, she lifted her head, sniffing the air.
“Smoke,” she announced.
Though I could now smell it for myself. She hurried out the door, heels clicking against the floor, and soon I was alone. Again. And more confused than ever.
Until another, more welcome figure filled the doorway. He held a finger to his lips before I could cry out in relief. I had never in my centuries of existence been more grateful for anyone’s presence.
My Anton.
He had come for me.
7
Anton
I waited until I was close to her, my mouth all but touching her ear, before explaining, “I set a fire as a diversion. Come on. We have to get out of here, now.”
“I’m not about to argue,” Genevieve whispered with a shaky laugh while I worked on her restraints. Whoever had bound her knew what they were doing, wrapping chains about her wrists which they then wrapped around an exposed pipe. She was too weak to do much to help herself.
I, however, was not weak.
“Brace yourself,” I muttered, taking hold of the rusted pipe and tearing it free. It crumbled in my hands. I slid it out of the tangle of chains and unwrapped them from around her wrists.
The first thing she did was take my face in her hands and kiss me. “I love you,” she whispered, hands shaking. “I wanted you to know.” Desperation clung to her skin like perfume, reminding me nothing of the Genevieve I’d once known.
But the Genevieve with whom I’d fallen in love had never faced such adversity.
“I know you do,” I assured her as I helped her to her feet. “We don’t have much time.”
“We have to get out of here,” she whispered, her voice tight with fear. “She’s coming back; I know she is.”
“She won’t come back yet,” I assured her, wincing at the way she limped, at how weak she looked and sounded. Especially at the abject terror in her voice, in her wide eyes. I barely recognized her. “The fire is not a large one, but it would be in her best interest to stomp it out before it engulfs the forest. It would take too long for her to call the guards in. She’ll have to do it herself—designer pumps and all,” I added with a chuckle.
“I wouldn’t let her see how frightened I was,” she explained, nearly babbling now, “but she was about to kill me. She’ll kill me now, if she finds me with you. She’s determined—”
“Genevieve.” I took her by the shoulders, staring as hard as I could at her. “You have to remember who you are. You are the strongest, cleverest, most resourceful woman I’ve never known. The minute we met, I knew I had to be with you. I can’t live without you. I would have left this place and never come back if I hadn’t found you—I’d already made up my mind to do so.”
A faint smile played over her lips. “I told her so.”
“Did you?” I chuckled, cupping her cheek in one hand. “See? We know each other. I know you. I know this isn’t you—weak, frightened. I know who you really are, and you’re worth a thousand of that empty-headed, empty-hearted creature. Now. Are you coming with me, or are you not?”
“You know I am,” she replied with a shaky laugh. “The sooner, the better.”
“That’s more like it.” I led her to the doorway, holding her back at first that I might survey the area. Aside from the fire burning merrily away roughly several hundred yards from the cabin—I’d set a bunch of old driftwood ablaze once I was certain it was Isolde I’d seen sneaking into the abandoned building—there was not a soul to be found. I tugged her hand, signaling her to follow.
“Wait!” she hissed, pointing to the sky beyond the cabin. There was smoke in the air, but whenever it parted there were clear glimpses of lightening sky. “The sun is on the rise!”
She was right. I couldn’t get her out of there without risking burning her to death. I looked around, eyes going over the cabin’s contents, before taking notice of a burlap sack which had likely held flour or potatoes at one time.
“Here.” I shook it out, grimacing as droppings and dead spiders fell to the floor.
“What’s that for?”
“It isn’t ideal, but you need to be covered. I’ll carry you, so you won’t have to see where we’re going. Just remain as still as you can and stay covered.” I put the sack over her head, then worked it down until it covered her knees. She wore pants and shoes, so I assumed she would be safe until we reached shelter.
I hoped, at any rate.
She leaned in against me when I lifted her in my arms. “Whatever you do, don’t drop me,” she ordered in a voice much more like the one I’d come to know and love.
“I’ll take that under advisement.” I laughed.
My laughter died moments later, as Isolde charged into the cabin and slammed the door shut behind her. The hinges broke, the wood split.
She had once been a beautiful woman, and might be again if she ever managed to return her face to its normal, composed lines. Standing before us, with her features twisted in an ugly grimace, she was perhaps the least attractive thing I’d ever seen. Like some screeching harpy rather than the cultured, refined daughter of one of the most powerful families in all of Europe.
Her chest heaved as she breathed in great gasps, her lip curled in a snarl before bearing her teeth. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” she spat, glaring at me and the burlap-covered vampire in my arms.
“I’m taking her out of here,” I growled.
Two could play at the game of intimidation. She might have been a strong, fearsome hunter while in her wolf form—human and wolf, the two of them were quite similar in temperament and the lengths to which they were willing to go to get what they wanted—but I was the male of the species. Naturally stronger, faster, more agile. And much, much larger.
More ruthless when pushed to my limits, which was precisely where she was pushing me.
“That isn’t for you to say.” Soot streaked her cheeks like some strange, punk form of rouge, making them look hollow. She’d perspired heavily while hurrying to the fire, as well, and perhaps the heat of the flames had warmed her—whatever the cause, the makeup on her eyes had run somewhat, leaving deep smudges above her cheeks.
She looked for all the world like a ghoul from a horror story. If only she could see herself—it might have been enough to conquer her for good. One as vain as she might have dropped dead on the spot.
Clutching Genevieve tighter—she was limp, either from fear or exhaustion, or weakness after going days without feeding—I growled at Isolde. “You took her from my estate, venturing onto my lands to—”
“Your lands
?” She tipped her head to the side as though puzzled. “I think not. I believe they are still your father’s lands until you ascend to his position. It was your father’s estate the bloodsucker came from—though, incidentally, she was at the waterfall by the time they caught up to her. That parcel of land is no one’s, a free zone, and therefore not under the jurisdiction of the De Clerqs. However,” she added, her eyes lighting up, “Perhaps you make a good point. Perhaps we ought to discuss this with your father. He might be able to settle the matter.”
“Enough.” This was too much. She had me there, and had more than likely planned it this way. Waiting until Genevieve was on neutral territory, making certain there was no way I could claim her kidnapping as an attack on my family’s lands. Even if she’d captured her on my land, what could I do? Take the matter to my parents?
And expect what? They would have her killed without all of this fanfare. She would already be long gone. And my mother would return to planning my life and securing her comfort with no consideration for my desires.
“She belongs to me,” Isolde warned. “Unhand her, and I might be able to forget this entire, unfortunate situation ever occurred.”
“We both know that isn’t going to happen.” I sighed. “You’re only wasting your time, just as you waste your time in attempting to make me your consort. It will never be. I have no wish to bear the family legacy upon my shoulders, and I have even less of a desire to marry you. I would never marry you. You mean nothing to me but a burden I refuse to accept, and time would do nothing to change that.”
My words fell like hammers upon her—she flinched at each in turn. Would it get through to her? Had I been clear enough?
Would she dive even further into insanity?
“How dare you speak that way to me?” she hissed once the shock wore off. “How dare you? You believe yourself worthy of treating me as if I were no better than garbage off the street? As if you could kick me about for your amusement?”
Her breathing deepened, quickened. Her nostrils flared, her chin jutted forward. Her eyes widened, the blue slowly turning to black as she hung between human and wolf form.
“Anton…” Genevieve whispered, but there was no need.
I understood the increasing gravity of the situation all too well. I had kicked the dog too hard.
Now, it would come back to bite me.
8
Allonic
“I tell you, I want nothing to do with any of it.” I waved a hand over the expanse of riches before me. The contents of chambers, stripped from the rooms as I’d requested.
Mountains of velvet and silk, some of it richly embroidered in gold and silver. Jewel-encrusted goblets, gold plates. Crystal as far as the eye could see, in the form of decanters and vases and wall sconces.
All of it, garbage, as far as I was concerned.
The pair of shades who’d assembled this mass of obscene wealth shared an uncertain glance.
“Are you… sure?” the female of the two asked after swallowing hard.
“You need not fear to be in my presence,” I assured her with as close to a smile as I dared offer. I was still king, after all. Not their friend, and they certainly had not treated me as one prior to my crowning.
I was not one to lord this over them, not in the least. But it did offer a certain grim satisfaction to watch them bow and scrape, then again when they reacted with relief and even disbelief when I assured them they had no reason to fear me.
Their lives were in my hands now, all of them. What a position to find themselves in.
I understood the all-encompassing sense of disbelief which such a sudden change could bring about. My life was nothing like I’d ever encountered, regardless of the many times I’d imagined claiming my birthright.
I certainly had not accounted for the difficulty I’d cross while trying to return my people to their proper state—in other words, without the frills and trims and worldliness my cousin and his father had encouraged.
“Allow me to ask a question.” I folded my hands before me, eyeing the both of them up. They did their best to appear trusting, but the uncertainty in their eyes was clear. How had my cousin abused them? All of them? “What is the purpose of the shade? To what end do we spend our lives?”
They exchanged another look, a look of two people who were all but certain there had to be a catch. The question was simple, the sort a child would hear and recite the answer to while being schooled.
“W—we are the memory keepers,” the man offered. “It is our duty to record and protect the memories, the legends, the history of every culture, every species of our world. fae, shade, vampire—”
I held up a hand and nodded. “Correct. That is our duty. What we have been born to do, what we have trained to do. Is it our duty to live lavishly?”
“No,” the woman replied, shaking her head.
“Are we called to live in the outside world?” I asked.
“No, though we are also not permitted, by law, to bring others in.” The man immediately appeared to regret the statement, his skin suddenly tinged with gray.
I took this in stride. When compared to some of the insults which I’d endured over my life, a quip such as that meant nothing. “You make a fair point. Perhaps that should change. Yet I did not ask you these questions to spark debate. I merely wished to illustrate how far we’ve strayed under past leaders. I fear we’ve forgotten our true duty to the creatures, living and dead, whose legacies we’ve protected these millennia. I would have us return to our calling and throw aside these worldly cares.” I scoffed at the finery before me, resenting my cousin as I never had before.
What a craven, misguided, selfish creature he’d been. ShadesRealm was better without him.
“What do you suggest we do?” The woman looked over the pile with a note of longing in her expression. Yes, it would be better to rid themselves of this as soon as possible, for longing soon turned to desire, which led even the purest of souls astray if not properly controlled.
“I shall send word to the king of the fae,” I decided. “They are owed recompense for the evils which Garan rained upon them. While war was avoided, six of their number were murdered as a message from my cousin to the king. As you may be aware, the Queen Consort was once King Gregor’s most trusted advisor—yet even that relationship is not enough to ensure we forge a stronger bond with those in Avellane.”
The two of them blinked in near perfect sync. “You want to give all of this to King Gregor?”
“Indeed. A gift. I wish for the transport to be arranged. My queen and I will deliver the gift personally.” All the better for us to check on Gregor, though neither of them need be privy to my inner motivations.
Felicity still feared for him, and after the blissful happiness she’d granted me during a few short weeks of marriage, I could not bring myself to imagine losing her as he’d lost Tabitha—twice, at that. It might have been enough to break me. While Gregor was a strong man and a fine king, he was not impervious to grief and strain.
Without Felicity there to keep him on-course, she feared, he would lose himself.
After dismissing the pair before me, both of them scurrying off like relieved children fleeing from their chores, I visited Felicity in our chambers and was pleased she’d managed to convince me to move my sparse belongings into the rooms intended for the king.
“I understand you wish to make a point—and it is a good point,” she’d added at the time, quick to head-off any argument I was about to raise. “But these chambers are meant for the king. Not only do you deserve this space, but it is your duty to claim it and make it your own. Your first and most pressing responsibility as king is to present the image of a king. I don’t mean to behave as a tyrant, or as if your needs are more pressing than those of the others. You must claim what is yours and be a leader your subjects can look up to.”
I could understand why Gregor would fall apart without her by his side, for she possessed an uncanny understanding of those around
her. She saw through even the most complex situations, could stand outside the fray and identify the larger picture.
She was studying a scroll when I entered, and I couldn’t help but stand back and watch her. It wasn’t just that she was reading. She seemed to absorb the scroll, or she tried to, spread out on the floor as it was. She sat on a cushion, legs folded, her body all but doubled in half as she bent forward to hover over the ancient text.
A long strand of hair had escaped her loose braid, and she twirled it absentmindedly around two fingers. It was that gesture, so utterly hers, that brought me back to what was real. I was more myself with her than without her.
She was my home, no matter where home happened to be.
I cleared my throat when it became clear that she had not heard me enter.
“You startled me,” she gasped, hand over her chest. “You are too skilled at moving silently.”
“Forgive me. Perhaps I ought to wear a bell around my neck?”
She smiled. “Yes. A great, big bell that will gong with each step, so everyone knows to stay out of your way.”
“Wouldn’t they enjoy that?” I helped myself to a glass of water and sighed upon taking a seat. It had not occurred to me before the how tired I was.
“You didn’t sleep well last night,” Felicity observed, still seated on her cushion. “You tossed and turned the whole night through, as you’ve been doing for days.”
I shot her a rueful look. “It must make life miserable for you.”
“I’m not worried for myself. Besides,” she added with a grin, “I can always go back to sleep if I wish. The Queen Consort’s days are far different from yours.”
“I would have it otherwise.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I cannot see why you would not be accepted as not only my consort, but as a skilled and wise advisor.”
“Allonic.” Her face fell.
We’d had this talk before, and it always ended in the same fashion. “You know they don’t accept me. Certainly, they have no choice but to accept my presence. There’s nothing they can do—you’re the king, and I’m your wife. But there is only so far you can push them. If you were to name me to your council, they might revolt.”