by Amy Sumida
The song was so beautiful, I couldn't understand why Banning was looking at me like that: with utter horror. I thought he loved me. Why wasn't he enthralled by what I was divulging to him? I sang to him the secrets of my heart, and he stared at me like I was a demon.
If I had even the smallest bit of my own sense left in my head, I would have realized what was wrong, what I would look like in Banning's eyes. The man who thought his own life was monstrous, would view my actions as heinous. It was one thing to slaughter an army attacking you, and quite another to torture a woman because she was petty and jealous. I had a brief flash of a red-headed blooder above me, doing much the same thing to me, as I was doing to Mirela. It made me pause, but just briefly. The magic was consuming me, coercing me to continue. Look at what we could do, look at the beauty of that crimson against the paleness of her throat. Look at that lovely, growing wound in her chest. Look at the pain and fear in her eyes . . .
Then Banning kissed me.
My song was cut off, the love in my lyrics flowing into true emotion instead of the illusion my magic was offering me. I sighed into Banning's seduction, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him tight against me. What was this; this familiar surging delight? This raging heat in my limbs? I shivered and Banning pulled me closer. I fit perfectly to him. I knew him so well, knew every inch of his body, every curve and angle. I knew what it would feel like when we came together, what we could bring forth in each other, and it was glorious. Banning's hands heated on my bare skin, his lips slashed over mine. I moaned just as reason returned.
Banning felt it the moment I remembered myself and the fact that I wasn't truly his. He may be mine, but I was not his. I loved another, and this kiss had been a betrayal of that love; to Torin. I frowned as I pulled away from Banning, not because I was angry at either him or myself, but because I was utterly confused. Instead of guilt, I felt desire. I wanted more.
“Oh, fuck,” I whispered. It seemed like the past was finally catching up to me.
Banning's eyes widened as he realized what had happened; that he'd finally reached through the barrier I'd constructed between us. Joy burst across his features, even as a low moaning cut in on our moment. Painful moaning, the sounds of death narrowly averted. Mirela. I inhaled sharply and turned toward the blooder.
King Sorin had come forward and was helping Mirela to her feet. There was a puddle beneath the female blooder, bright red against the white marble floor. Her throat bore the garish stains as well, but the black of her dress hid the evidence well. Still, she clasped at the wound in her chest, a wound which went directly to her heart, and stared at me like I was a monster. I would have laughed –a blooder thinking I was a monster; oh, the irony– except I had a sinking feeling that she was right.
“Dear gods,” I whispered as the reality sunk in. I knew the relic had left me with traces of its power, but I hadn't known it had left me with its cruel, detached calculation too.
“We thank you for that lovely song, Spellsinger.” Sorin started clapping.
Slowly, sporadically at first and then more powerfully, the rest of the room joined in until all of the blooders were applauding me. I looked around in confused fascination until my gaze settled on Banning's smug smile. He hadn't wanted this performance, but he was thrilled with the results. Blooders, those crazy motherfuckers, respected power just like every other beneather. They had enhanced abilities: senses, strength, and healing; but they had no actual magic beyond that which kept them alive. Which meant that they respected magical power even more than your average citizen of the Beneath. My vicious display of spellsinging had told these blooders two things: I wasn't one to be trifled with, and it didn't matter how many of them there were; I could kill them all without lifting a finger.
Hell, I'd slaughtered an entire blooder army before, I should have known better than to let these leeches worry me. The army . . . they should have known about that. It should have served as a warning to blooders like Mirela. So why had she messed with me? I looked over to King Sorin and noticed his smirk, so similar to Banning's smugness. Had he kept his gura ignorant of my abilities on purpose? Sorin had said he had heard of me, which most likely meant that he'd heard of the blooder massacre at Banning's country club. If he kept tabs on his son, Sorin would definitely have heard about it. So why not warn his gura? Was this the entertainment Banning had spoken of? Could Sorin be so unfeeling that he would allow one of his own courtiers to be tortured just to ease his boredom?
“Well, that's answered my question,” Sorin said as the applause died down.
“What question?” I asked.
“If you were truly in an amour with my son”–Sorin leveled his stare on Banning–“and not simply his suit of armor, protecting him from the advances that were sure to come his way.” Sorin looked back to me and trailed his gaze down my body. “Or vice versa.”
“I'm so glad you're curiosity is satisfied,” Banning drawled.
“You do appear quite pleased, Banning,” Sorin noted. “You weren't expecting your lady to show her affection for you so . . . vigorously?”
“Elaria usually has more control over her emotions,” Banning said softly, his gaze drifting to mine. “But her power has had a recent boost. It seems to have made her a bit volatile. The gura would do well to be more careful of her.”
“I shouldn't have done that”–I shook my head–“my apologies for attacking one of your people, King Sorin.”
“Oh, please.” Sorin's smirk widened. “You know as well as I, that I enjoyed every moment of your little performance. Mirela lives: no harm done. At least, no lasting harm. And I was given the rare opportunity to hear a spellsinger sing . . . and to survive it. I think all of us here –with exception to Mirela– are completely enthralled with you.”
I glanced around and saw that Sorin was right; nearly every gaze in the room was plastered to me –in an intensely intrigued way. Unsettling really. I looked away quickly, wondering if having their admiration was worse than having their animosity. I really had no desire to be the new Mistress of the Dark.
“Join me in welcoming home our prince”–Sorin lifted his glass and turned in a circle to include the whole room–“and his most-worthy paramour!”
Blooders lifted their glasses, smiling to reveal sharp sets of fangs. I would have been intimidated, had I not been certain –now more than ever– that I could kill every blooder present. Give me two songs –three tops– and my entire audience would be dead. Oh, fuck me, where were these thoughts coming from? I'd never been this bloodthirsty. Yes, I used my gift to kill on occasion, but I wasn't this quick to anger, and when I did get angry, I didn't automatically resort to a physical attack. Usually, I started with some scathing conversation and worked my way up to an assault. In fact, I prided myself on being able to handle a verbal confrontation skillfully. Now, it seemed that my magic had a hair-trigger.
It had to be the relic's influence, and if it was influencing my emotions in one way, it may just be doing so in another. Was the relic the reason I was losing control over my feelings for Banning and Declan? Or was I just looking for an excuse for my own weakness? Damn, I wasn't sure. I'd never been in such a situation before.
As the room drank to us, Banning leaned into my side, angling his head so that we had a modicum of privacy. His face revealed to me what he was truly feeling: a mix of elation and concern. His hand went to my cheek, giving the appearance of intimacy, while he whispered into my ear.
“Are you alright?”
“I don't know,” I whispered back.
“We'll figure this out, Elaria.” He leaned back enough to look me in the eyes. “I'm here with you, you're not alone.”
It was almost a cliché, what he said to me, but those were the exact words I'd needed to hear. Because I did feel alone; alone in my own body. I didn't have the relic on my neck anymore, and yet, I felt like someone else was taking over my thoughts and my actions. I didn't know what to do. How do you stop something that's happening ins
ide you, without your permission? It's like battling cancer except the treatments –if there were any– were unknown to me. I was scared. Very powerful but very scared.
“Ah, the amuse bouche!” Sorin declared as tiny plates of food were placed on each dining set by the waitstaff. “Let us feast!”
“I thought I was the amuse bouche,” I said grimly to Banning as he steered me toward our seats.
“No, you merely served it,” Banning said grimly.
Just as I sat, my gaze fell on Mirela. She had cleaned off the blood and put on a more modest gown. Probably to cover the healing gash in her chest. Her eyes skittered away from mine quickly, but not before I caught the venom in them. Yep, I had another enemy to add to my list. Get in line, Mirela, it's a long list.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Is this in celebration of Banning's return or do you usually dine in such fashion?” I asked King Sorin.
“It's in honor of my son,” Sorin said, then smirked. “How tedious it would be to feast with these fiends every evening.”
“You think your people are fiends?” I lifted a brow, and then caught Banning's subtle head shake out of the corner of my eye.
“Banning, I told you I've changed,” Sorin chided. “You don't have to warn your lover to watch her step around me. Besides, I believe she's proven that she can handle anything I throw in her face.”
“I don't think that's the phrasing you're looking for,” Banning said dryly.
“No?” Sorin looked at me.
“'Throw at her' was probably what you were intending to say.” I chuckled. “But you made your point. Tell me why you think they're fiends.”
“Because they are, sweet lady.” Sorin waved his hand out to indicate the room. “Look at them. They are beloved fiends, but fiends nonetheless. Diabolically cruel to the very core. You can't possibly say that you don't see it.”
“I see it, but I can hardly throw stones.” I grimaced.
“Ah, you think you're fiendish as well,” Sorin mused.
“And you don't?” I lifted a brow. “After that display?”
“A fiend would not be concerned about their own behavior.” Sorin shrugged.
“Elaria, you're not a fiend,” Banning said gently. “These blooders, these old monsters, have been taught their evil ways. They've learned it from their sires, who learned it from their sires before them.”
“Oh, yes, we have a long tradition of turning humans into their own nightmares,” Sorin said it almost proudly, but I caught the hint of regret in his voice.
“This –all of this– is growing tedious for you,” I whispered in shock. “You don't enjoy being a blooder anymore . . . being fiendish.”
Banning inhaled sharply. “Elaria, you go too far.”
“And yet she speaks the truth.” Sorin sighed. “Your lady is quite perceptive, Banning. I am tired. I feel old –something I have never felt. This life is beginning to weigh upon me.”
Banning gaped at his father.
“Don't look so shocked,” Sorin said gently. “Did you truly believe that I have no soul? That I have no heart? The evil I have wrought is finally taking its toll, finally catching up to my evasive conscience.”
“Dear gods, the world is ending,” Banning whispered.
“Stop with the dramatics.” Sorin rolled his eyes. “I am far better at it than you are.”
“Why did you really need us to stay?” I leaned toward Sorin. “It's more than wanting to reconnect with Banning, isn't it?”
“Of course it is.” Sorin waved a hand dismissively. “As if I would be so cruel as to deny you your right to help your own parents. No, I needed to see how you dealt with my court, Lady Elaria. I needed to know that you were strong enough to rule them if my son happened to choose you to be his wife.”
“What?” Banning hissed. “What are you talking about?”
“I wish to retire.” Sorin shrugged.
“What; for the night?” Banning just couldn't accept what he was hearing.
“No, for good.” Sorin smiled wistfully. “I wish to pass down the crown.”
“Blooder kings don't retire,” Banning growled. “They die, usually through murder. Did you not kill your own sire to take the throne?”
“I have never lived my life by the rules of others,” Sorin ignored Banning's question. “I don't intend to start now. I want to crown you king, Banning. While I yet live.”
“I haven't seen you for nearly three-hundred years,” Banning huffed, “and now you want me to rule your court?”
“You are still their prince.” Sorin shrugged. “They will accept you as king, more than they would anyone else I may choose.”
“No,” Banning said firmly and sat back in his seat. “This may surprise you, but I don't want to be king. I certainly don't want to rule your court of fiends, as you've so aptly named them. I have my own gura and I care for them. I don't care for these . . . people.”
“Not yet, but in time–”
“No!” Banning slashed his hand through the air. “I fought my way free of this place; of you! I will not return to rule it. It would make a mockery of all I have accomplished.”
“Then it will crumble,” Sorin said sadly. “They will kill my chosen replacement for his inadequacy, and then they will tear each other apart.”
“I am at peace with that,” Banning said coldly.
“Banning,” I whispered, shaking my head at him.
“Do you really care about these blooders?” Banning asked me in surprise.
“No,” I answered honestly. “But they are your people. Monsters or not, they're yours.”
“The fuck they are,” Banning growled. “My people live in Kansas. Those are my people. Blooders who stood by me when these people sent an army to slaughter us.”
I looked from one man to the other with wide eyes.
“I did not approve that course of action.” Sorin held his hand up in protest.
“Didn't you?” Banning lifted a brow. “Do you truly expect me to believe that the European Falca sent assassins after your son without your approval?”
“I do expect you to believe it,” Sorin said, “because it's true. My power has dwindled, Banning. I am not the king I used to be. That should be painful for me to admit, but it isn't. I don't even care anymore. I just want to be free of this. I want to see the world, explore it. I am nearly a thousand years old, and I have never left Romania.”
I blinked in shock. Banning gaped.
“You didn't realize I was so old? Or is your shock over my limited travel experience?” Sorin chuckled. “It's nice to be able to surprise your own children.”
“Children?” Banning scowled. “I thought–”
“That you were my only blooded son?” Sorin lifted a brow. “There have been others. They did not survive. Perhaps leaving Romania was the wisest course of action. It seems that living beside me is detrimental to one's health.”
“That much is obvious.” Banning grimaced. “I understand your desire to leave, but I cannot take your place. You ask too much from a man who has spent most of his existence despising you.”
“I don't understand why you hate–”
“I begged you to help us,” Banning interrupted Sorin viciously. “She was everything to me, and I knew she was in danger. I begged you to help me with Cosmina, and you denied me. You turned your back on me and the woman I loved.”
“You needed to learn to be a prince, to handle your own troubles,” Sorin said gently. “I truly didn't believe Cosmina would be so bold as to kill your beloved–” Sorin stopped and stared at me in epiphany. “Dear gods. Your face –that's why it's so familiar.”
“Yes,” Banning said proudly, “she's returned to me. That's how strong our love is. And it is yet another reason that I will not take your throne. I would never force this life upon Elaria. Bad enough to suffer it myself, but to make her do so as well? No, never.”
“You knew Fortune?” I asked Sorin; partly because I was curious and partly to
diffuse the volatile conversation.
“Banning sent me a miniature of them together.” Sorin looked away.
“When I asked for his help,” Banning explained. “I wanted him to look upon Fortune's face when he made his decision. I mistakenly thought it would help sway him, to see how in love we were.”
“It did sway me.” Sorin stared back at Banning sorrowfully. “But I knew that it was imperative for you to make your own path with our people. The blooders would not have respected you if I came swooping in to help you as soon as you faced opposition.”
“Opposition?” Banning's voice rose enough that the blooders around us stopped eating to stare. “Cosmina had me restrained by a group of men while she murdered the woman I loved. She made me watch as Elaria”–Banning shook his head–“ as Fortune died at my feet. That is not opposition, that is a direct attack on your son and his beloved. And yet you looked on it as what? A learning experience for me?”
Banning stood abruptly and held his hand out to me. I took it and let him help me to my feet. All the while, I reeled under the weight of his words –of his mistake. He'd called her by my name. Banning had called me by Fortune's name once, but he had never called her by mine. It was a huge difference, which proved his earlier declaration to me. He truly loved me more than Fortune.
“Thank you for dinner,” I said demurely to Sorin. I suppose it was my contrary nature but I couldn't resist.
Sorin sighed and nodded.
“Goodnight, Father,” Banning hissed the last word, then escorted me out of the blooder banquet.
“That was lovely,” I commented as we made our way sedately to our suite. “A nice song, a nice meal, a nice conversation. All very nice.”
“Elaria, please,” Banning's voice broke.
I shot him a sideways look and saw the stress on his face and in his shoulders. It shut me up. I didn't say anything during the entire walk to our room. But as soon as the door closed behind us, I pulled him into a hug and held him as he cried.
“It's okay, Banning,” I whispered to him. “You're not alone. I'm here with you.”