Blood Oath

by Kit Tunstall

  “Please come,” she whispered.

  “I can’t. Your father will surely wish to speak to me about what happened to you yesterday, and Ylenia will prefer privacy.” He kissed her again before stepping away and assuming wolf-form. He padded to the door and touched it lightly with his paw.

  It took her a few seconds to realize he wanted the door opened. It had closed tightly, and he wasn’t able to pry it open with his paw. She opened it for him, shielding herself behind the door to hide her state of undress. As the door closed behind him, a heavy sense of pressure filled her, and she ran to the bathroom to vomit.

  Once she had emptied her stomach of its meager contents, Anca dropped to the cool stone floor and curled into a ball. So many thoughts whirled in her mind that she couldn’t concentrate on any of them for long—even the most life-altering events, like now having increased psychic powers and the ability to transform into a wolf at will.

  Anca pushed herself off the floor and turned on the faucets to fill the large tub. She tried clearing her mind of all the confusing thoughts and simply getting through the morning. Without being told, she knew the meeting with Ylenia would hold more revelations, and faced the prospect with dread, knowing she couldn’t escape learning the truth, even if she wanted to. As she had heard several times, it was her destiny.

  * * * * *

  A young woman with light-brown hair came for her an hour later. The girl curtsied, causing the hem of her white robe to fan out across the floor. “Your Highness, I’m here to bring you to Ylenia.”

  Anca nodded, feeling incapable of speech. She followed the silent girl from her room and through the castle. Today, she remembered where some of the halls led and knew they were going into the tapestry room before the girl opened the door.

  A tea tray rested on the small table in the corner. Two empty chairs faced each other across the table. No one was in the room, except them.

  The girl curtsied again. “Ylenia will arrive shortly.” She turned to leave, and then spun around quickly. “I’m sorry, m’lady.”

  Anca frowned. “For what?”

  “I was your guard, assigned by Lord Nicodemus. If I had done my duty yesterday, you would have been safe.” Tears glittered in her large amber eyes. “Please forgive me.”

  The girl seemed perilously close to throwing herself to the ground and hugging Anca’s legs. She smiled at the girl. “Don’t give it another thought. It wasn’t your fault. I thought I would be safe with my sister.”

  The girl’s bowed head prevented her expression from being seen, but her body language suggested she wanted to say something about that assumption. Apparently, she reined in the impulse, because all she said was, “Thank you, m’lady. You’re very kind.” Once again, the girl started to leave.

  “Wait. What’s your name?”

  “Starr.” With a quick curtsey, she hurried from the room.

  Anca shook her head, realizing she had met Starr before, during her arrival at the castle. She had been one of the wolves curled by the fire. What a strange place Corsova was. She wondered how many others she had met in their various forms, and then wondered how many varieties of forms she might find among the citizenry.

  She tried to dismiss her musings by turning her attention to the tapestries. A few of the hangings depicted scenes in nature or fiercely scowling leaders—male and female—in various finery from the ages, but a significant number portrayed a more violent history.

  There was a tapestry showing the throat of a maiden ripped open by a tall man with dark hair. She didn’t seem to mind the blood flowing down her skin and into his mouth, if one judged by her sated expression. A shiver of mingled fear and desire seized Anca. She tore her gaze from it to examine the others, letting the images blur together, until she arrived at a particularly large one displayed prominently on the far wall.

  It showed two women and a man standing in a semi-circle around a dais. A golden chalice rested on the dais, and the younger man and woman of the trio each had a hand around the base. Blood stained the cuffs of their dress and shirt. The older woman’s wrist was slashed open, and her blood appeared to be filling the goblet. A red moon shone brightly through the window displayed in the corner of the tapestry.

  The picture evoked strange emotions in Anca—dread, longing, and a flash of memory. She reached out a hand to trace the chalice she recognized from the vision she had received the night Demi came to her shop. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “Careful, dear. That one is hundreds of years old, and the thread is weak. Even restoration hasn’t completely salvaged it.” Though the woman’s voice was rough, there was an underlying softness to her tone.

  Anca turned to eye the woman who she guessed to be Ylenia. She was a modest five-two, if even, with a chubby build, wildly curling salt-and-pepper hair bound in a precarious knot, and a white robe embroidered with tiny yellow roses at the neckline and hem. She didn’t appear impressive enough to be the spiritual leader of an entire culture.

  She winked at Anca, as though reading her thoughts. “Come sit with me, dear. We have much to discuss.”

  Anca walked forward, taking the seat across from Ylenia as the older woman settled into one. She watched as Ylenia poured two cups of tea into bone china cups, sans handles, and passed one to her. She eyed it uncertainly. “What’s in this?” She had vague memories of drinking something noxious the night before.

  “Simple oolong, Anca.” Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “I find tea settles my nerves better than any spirits your father might enjoy.”

  She picked up the cup and swirled the contents, but didn’t drink. “Should I be nervous?”

  One of Ylenia’s shoulders moved in a half-shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in this situation myself. Always when counseling the next leader, they knew what to expect.”

  Anca shook her head. “Expect from what?”

  “The Blood Oath.” Ylenia sipped her tea after adding a sugar cube. “I’m getting ahead of myself. Valdemeer tells me you have no idea who we are…what you are.”

  “Demi keeps saying ‘our people’,” she said softly, finally sipping the tea. It was strong enough to be bracing, but lacked the bitter aftertaste that often accompanied tea steeped too long.

  “We’re vampires, dear.”

  She spat out the drink when she choked. Anca struggled to draw in a deep breath as the coughing fit peaked and passed. Would she ever adjust to the blasé attitude of the residents of Corsova? She could understand if they were all delusional, but what had happened to her disproved that comforting theory. She couldn’t doubt Ylenia’s sincere belief, which meant she had to either accept what she was hearing or run away. She sighed, wondering why she found it so easy to believe, but so difficult to embrace.

  Ylenia smiled. “I know it’s difficult for you, since you’ve been raised in the ways of humans. Had your mother kept you in Corsova, you would have never known another way. You wouldn’t doubt the veracity of my statement.”

  “I would have been brainwashed, you mean?” Anca asked harshly, although she didn’t really believe any of the citizens had been indoctrinated in this lifestyle. As difficult as it was to admit, it seemed to be their natural state. That didn’t mean she wanted it to be second nature for her.

  Ylenia didn’t bother to retort. “It’s a shame you lost so much of your heritage, but Katrine did what was necessary to save your life.”

  “I think she saved more than my life.” Anca set down the cup with a clink. “She saved my sanity too.”

  A reproachful look appeared in Ylenia’s eyes. “Now, dear, don’t be like that. We aren’t insane or brainwashed.” She shrugged. “We are what we are, which happens to be vampires. You know I speak the truth, but you want to shy away from your destiny.”

  It seemed imperative to continue to deny her place in their madness. She challenged Ylenia with her chin tilted and her voice icy. “If you’re vampires, why don’t you have any of the classic signs: Intolerance of daylight, ingestion
of blood, and the like?”

  Ylenia laughed. “Vampires aren’t quite the way the world fancies them to be, Anca…at least not all vampires. We can move freely in sunlight and moonlight, we are able to eat food, as long as we supplement our diet with blood—hence the “special” Corsovan wine served with every meal. We aren’t immortal, but we are long-lived.” She tilted her head. “If you were in a lighter mood, I’d ask you to guess my age. I bet you would never say one-hundred-and-four.”

  Anca shook her head, not convinced. “So, where does the blood for the wine come from? I don’t see stacks of peasants’ bodies outside the walls of the castle.”

  “Not every citizen in Corsova is a vampire—“

  “Yeah, there’re werewolves too,” she muttered under her breath.

  With a disapproving look, Ylenia said, “Our country is a haven—“

  “So I’ve heard.” She struggled to maintain an even tone, knowing losing control wouldn’t gain her anything except a temporary reprieve from the knowledge she had obtained…knowledge she had never wanted and yearned to escape from.

  “Humans also live inside our borders. In exchange for our protection, they’re happy to keep us supplied with blood.”

  “Happy to, or afraid not to?” Anca asked archly.

  A hint of anger darkened Ylenia’s eyes. “We don’t believe in unnecessary violence. We’re as civilized as humanity these days,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.

  “It’s a grave offense to kill any human on our lands, and the ruler metes out punishment accordingly. Before Illiana, no vampire had taken the life of a human in hundreds of years.” Lines creased her face. “Unfortunately, she seemed to revel in bloodlust. She was also good at keeping her proclivities hidden, or Valdemeer would have stopped her much sooner.”

  Her brow furrowed at the unexpected twist in the conversation. “Who’s Illiana?”

  “Nikia’s mother. That is for your father to tell you about, if he wishes. I didn’t mean to deviate from our topic.” Ylenia set down the cup she’d been holding but not drinking from. “My duty is to tell you of your past and future. In ancient times, we were all vampires, and the blood we needed came from the animals we hunted. As time passed, more and more stopped practicing our ways and became human. As the world changed around us, we turned to a new source of sustenance.”

  A sad expression settled on her face. “Our kind is few and outnumbered. We must always carefully guard our secret, lest we be eradicated by those who would fear us.”

  Anca sat in stunned silence, finding it more difficult to reject what she was hearing in the wake of the old woman’s conviction. More than that, on an instinctive level, she recognized the truth in Ylenia’s words. Memories of people long dead flowed through her mind, showing her the way things had been.

  Ylenia’s eyes closed slightly. “Yes, you can sense them. Your link to our ways is strong and growing stronger each day.”

  Anca shook her head. “No. You’re wrong. I won’t be stuck here. I know what you want from me, but I’m going back to New York.”

  “You will turn your back on your father and your people? Your heritage?” Her tone dropped to a whisper. “On Nicodemus? You will abandon your destiny, and for what? Scratching out an existence in an overcrowded city, always yearning for home? Once you set foot on our land, it became part of you. It is the way of things.”

  “This isn’t what I want.”

  “People cursed with responsibility seldom want it. Only those strong enough to embrace it survive their destinies.” Ylenia sighed. “You are destined to become the next Protector of our people. The stars were in alignment on the night of your birth, and the blood-moon draws near. Only you can take the Blood Oath.”

  Anca swallowed at the firm words, finding the words of rejection trapped in her throat. Her voice was a timid whisper when she asked, “What is the Blood Oath?”

  “There is a price for everything.” Ylenia sighed again, and her age seemed more visible suddenly. “How it began has been lost in time, but for most of the history of our people, the Blood Oath has heralded the changing of Protectors. Valdemeer is currently charged with guarding our race, but he grows old and tired.” Her expression became pinched. “I fear he won’t survive another forty-six years until the blood-moon returns. That’s why it’s imperative you complete the ritual this time.”

  “I still don’t understand. What does it do?”

  “It can be a heavy burden, to be marked for the Blood Oath. Much is asked of the Protector of our people. Once the ritual changes you, you become more like the vampire you’re familiar with. Sunlight kills you, aging slows even further, and you must never leave your lands. You’re tied to each drop of water in the lake, each flower blooming on the mountains, each animal running through the forest, and to the very soil of Corsova. To be without it would cause your death.”

  Anca blinked. “What? Why?”

  “It sustains and regenerates you, as does the presence of our people.” Ylenia picked up her cup and took a sip of the tea before continuing. “In return for your sacrifice, you are given two things of value. The first is a lifespan as great as three hundred years. Valdemeer is nearing two hundred-seventy-eight, but he grows tired.”

  She swallowed at the fantastical statement, somehow unable to muster the ability to refute it. “And the second?”

  “Each Protector has a destined lifemate who undergoes the ritual too. Their life is prolonged, and the burden is shared by two.” A soft smile creased her mouth. “Nicodemus had grown impatient for Valdemeer to send for you. From the time he was a child, he has pestered me with questions about you—even before you were born. He was often frustrated by my lack of answers.”

  Anca’s eyes widened. Several of Demi’s cryptic statements suddenly made sense. “I can reject him though, can’t I?”

  Ylenia looked displeased with the idea, but she nodded. “Of course. I have never known of any Protector to do so, but it is possible. Do you wish to?”

  Anca made a non-committal sound as her heart lurched at the idea of refusing Demi. Another question came to her. “So my mother was Valdemeer’s lifemate?”

  Ylenia shook her head. “No. Destiny chose Madra for him. I never knew her, but I’ve heard she was a gentle soul and full of kindness. He adored her very much, and they were happy together for more than a century. When she finally conceived, I’ve heard they hosted a month-long celebration.”

  She frowned. “Then how did he end up with Nikia’s mother, and later married to mine?”

  “Madra died of a mysterious illness.” Ylenia’s expression tightened. “It wasn’t until much later it was discovered she had been poisoned. Valdemeer was heartbroken when his wife and heir died, still in the womb, and he vowed never to marry again, despite his obligation to produce the next Protector.”

  Ylenia refilled her cup, though she couldn’t have drank more than half of it during their conversation. She automatically added more to Anca’s cup too. “Illiana was an ambitious woman, and the details of her machinations are sordid. I’ll leave the decision to tell you about it to the king.”

  Anca tapped her fingers impatiently against the table. “Yes, but how did he end up marrying my mother?”

  “Katrine’s father was a close friend of Valdemeer. He made the match when your mother was but a little child. I remember how terrified she was when she came for the pledging ceremony.” Ylenia smiled, lost in memories for a moment. “I was still an acolyte then, and my duties became entertaining your mother so she wouldn’t cry.”

  “Did he love Mother?”

  Ylenia sighed. “He had a deep affection for her. He loved her as much as he could, but Valdemeer’s heart will always be bound to Madra.”

  “My mother was okay with that?” She sniffed indignantly. “No wonder she left him.”

  “Katrine loved your father deeply, and she accepted he was only doing his duty to provide an heir by marrying her. He treated her well, if a bit distantly. After the death of Ju
lian, they became closer, and things were easier for her.” Ylenia scowled. “For a time.”

  “Who’s Julian?”

  Ylenia looked surprised. “Your mother never told you?”

  Anca shook her head.

  “He was your brother. If he hadn’t died in infancy, the Protectorate of Corsova would have gone to him.”

  She was so shocked she couldn’t breathe for a moment. She’d had a brother, and her mother never thought to mention it? She found it impossible to mourn for the sibling she had never known, but had no trouble summoning bitter resentment. If fate hadn’t been so cruel, he would be the one thrust into this position. “How did he die?”

  Ylenia paled, and she seemed to find the tea in her cup engrossing. “It was your mother who first suspected. Little hints that became threats, her behavior, and her violent fits when your mother and father conceived you led Katrine to the deduction.”

  “What deduction?” she asked with dread.

  “Your baby brother was poisoned by one who wanted the throne.” She shook her head. “Such malice in one so young…”

  “Who?” She knew the answer even as she asked the question.

  “Nikia. She admitted to it after Katrine fled to protect you. She told Valdemeer she wouldn’t rest until she had killed you too, and the ‘baby maker’, as she called Katrine.” Ylenia shivered, though the room was warm. “I’ve never seen such hatred and determination in anyone, especially not a child.”

  Anca’s stomach heaved, threatening to reject the sip of tea. The realization of how close she had come to death yesterday bore down on her with an almost physical weight. A new appreciation of what her mother had sacrificed to save her filled her, followed by blistering anger directed at Valdemeer. “Why didn’t my father do something?”

  “What could he do? She is his daughter, and his guilt over how he feels about her has always crippled him when dealing with Nikia.”

  Ylenia’s voice fell to a whisper. “He hated her as a child. He hates her now, knowing what she’s done. Yet, he loves her too, because she is his child. Bringing you home would have meant the death of another of his children. It would have been impossible to keep you safe all the time if she was around. Sending her away assured nothing, and the only other solution was to kill her.”