by Kit Tunstall
She opened her mouth to scream for help and realized she was gagged. She heard movement beside her and turned her head to see Demi bound with his arms at his sides, clamped in by a device identical to hers, with the spike resting against his heart. She made a quizzical sound, and he turned his head.
His eyes reflected his fear, and he said something, but the gag muffled his words beyond comprehension. He closed his eyes. Nikia’s treachery.
Yes. What do we do?
We have to escape. He grunted.
How?
They froze as a cold laugh sounded from the right, out of their range of sight. Nikia stepped into view, leaning over Anca. “You can’t, sister. You’re tied securely, and if you had plans of transforming,” she caressed the spike near Anca’s heart, “think again. Silver poisons werewolves, and you have enough of their characteristics to get deathly ill from it—assuming you survived the spike penetrating your heart.”
Why? Anca cried out, using her full mental powers in case Nikia had a block in place again.
“Because I’m taking the Blood Oath. It’s my right, not yours.” Anger sparkled in Nikia’s eyes. “You can’t usurp me of my rightful place.”
You’ll die—
“Lies!” Nikia waved her hand. “Ylenia wants to keep me from my heritage, that’s all. I’m not good enough for them because of who my mother was.” She leaned closer, until her face was inches from Anca’s. “She wasn’t saintly like the bitch who produced you, so they want to eradicate her bloodline, but I won’t let them.”
Anca searched for a way to reason with Nikia, but soon realized there wasn’t any reasoning with the mad. The gleam of insanity shone in her eyes. They couldn’t stop her with mere words.
“You can’t stop me at all,” Nikia hissed. “I’ll soon have everything I need.” She beckoned to Sian, who approached carrying the golden chalice and a sharp dagger. “I need your blood and the pendant.” Her eyes turned to Demi. “His blood too, and our dear father’s, and I’ll be the rightful ruler.”
Anca tried to steel herself for the prick of the dagger when Nikia pushed back the voluminous sleeve of her white robe and pressed the tip against the bend of her elbow. She cried out when it slid through her flesh, but the cloth in her mouth muffled the volume.
Nikia’s eyes never strayed from the sight of Anca’s blood flowing into the goblet. It was only when the wound stopped flowing that she handed the dagger and goblet to Sian. “Get his.” She directed a scorching look in Demi’s direction. “I have no wish to touch him.”
As Sian moved around the bed to collect Demi’s blood, Nikia’s fingers moved to the laces at Anca’s robe. “Now for the pendant, dear sister.”
Anca tried to twist away, but she couldn’t evade Nikia. Within seconds, her breasts were exposed, and Nikia had unfastened the pendant. She couldn’t hold back a mournful moan when Nikia removed the pendant.
Her moan turned to a cry of shock when Nikia tweaked her nipple. She shook her head and redoubled her efforts to move away, but was securely restrained. The gag muffled her scream of outrage when Nikia bent her head and licked her breast. Don’t touch me!
“Tasty,” Nikia said before her fangs sank into the soft flesh of Anca’s breast. She suckled for a couple of seconds before lifting her head. “If I had more time, dear sister…” She sighed. “Perhaps I’ll keep you around as my plaything for a while, until I tire of you.” She cupped Anca’s other breast as she knelt and licked her cheek. “I’ll teach you how to use your tongue.” Her voice lowered to a sensual whisper. “I’ll teach you to submit.”
She stood up and glared at Demi. “I’m afraid I have no use for your lover though. When I’ve completed the ritual, he’ll be the first to die.” She waved her hand at Sian, and they hurried across the room. Nikia didn’t pause to look back as she swept through the door, slamming it behind her.
Anca turned her head so she could see Demi. We have to get out of here and stop her. She’ll die if she takes the Blood Oath.
Who cares? I’m more worried about missing the moon phase. If you don’t take the Oath now, there won’t be another chance. I’m sure she’s already gone after your father. As he spoke, Demi twisted against the silver restraint, hissing when the spike raked his skin.
How do we get out of these?
There’s only one way I can think of. His gaze locked with hers. I love you, Anca. All that matters is for you to stop Nikia and complete the ceremony.
She guessed what he planned to do even as he did it. She cried out in protest as he transformed into wolf-form.
Demi spat out the gag as he howled with agony. The spike had penetrated his chest, and it seemed to take all his strength to pull away from it. His breath came in shallow pants as he turned back to his human form. “Ah, it hurts, dragostia.” His forced smile seemed weak as he lurched across the bed and untied her restraints with shaking hands. He opened the restraint with a click
As soon as she was free, Anca sat up and rolled toward him, touching his pale face. “Are you dying?”
“Don’t know,” he said amid pants.
She hugged him against her. “Tell me what to do to save you.”
“Blood. Need blood.”
She didn’t hesitate to push open the unlaced bodice of her robe and offer her neck. She groaned with pain as Demi’s fangs sank through her skin. He didn’t have the same finesse as last time, and she wasn’t aroused, so it hurt enough to bring tears to her eyes. She endured stoically as he drank for several minutes.
She became light-headed and started to pull away just as he broke contact. Some color had reappeared in his cheeks, but he still looked terrible. “Will you live?”
He nodded. “It’s going to take a long time to heal though. I won’t be much use to you tonight.”
She rolled out of bed, helping him. Anca tried to brace him against her, but he pulled away and stood tall. “Now what?”
“We have to find Valdemeer. She needs his blood to complete the ceremony. If she hasn’t gotten to him yet, it isn’t too late to stop her.”
Demi surprised her by matching her frantic pace—though not without difficulty—as they rushed to Valdemeer’s chambers. He walked with an unsteady gait and swayed from time to time, but he didn’t falter. He seemed to be running solely on adrenaline or determination, but there was no time to allow him to rest.
Valdemeer’s partially opened door and the lack of a guard in the hallway caused Anca’s stomach to clench with fear. She pushed open the oak door and rushed into his room. She cried out when she saw him sprawled on the stone floor. A large puddle of blood surrounded him.
“Papa,” she cried as she ran to him. She was marginally aware of Demi catching up with her and crouching beside her as she knelt to check on Valdemeer. She felt his ravaged throat and cried out at the thread of a pulse she found. She cried out again as his eyes snapped open, and he gripped her wrist with surprising strength. “You’re alive.”
“Dying,” he said in a slow whisper. “Take my blood.”
She shook her head. “You’ll die if we take more.”
His eyes moved to Demi, and he nodded.
Anca looked up in time to see Demi nod and stand up. When he made his way to the mini-bar to get a glass, she shook her head, mouthing the word, “No.” She looked down at her father. “We can’t do this. I don’t want you to die.”
His mouth was slack, and his eyes had started to glaze. He seemed to find thinking easier than speaking. Always meant to die, Anca…part of the ritual.
She shook her head, not understanding—or refusing to believe.
Yes, he insisted. The way of things. Passing of old to new…my power to you. Can’t change it.
She glared at him. “You should have told me. I wouldn’t have agreed to do it if you’d told me.”
I know. Couldn’t tell you…made Demi swear not to. He found the strength to squeeze her hand gently. This is our way.
Demi returned to them, holding the snifter. “I have a
container, m’lord.”
“Do it,” he said shakily.
Anca couldn’t watch as Demi pressed on the wound at her father’s neck to cause more blood to flow. She pressed her hands over her eyes and began to sob.
Love you, copia de meu inimiä. Take care of Demi, and guard our ways.
“It’s not fair,” she whispered. Anca grasped his hand between hers as tears flowed down her cheeks. “I love you, Papa. I don’t want to lose you now.”
Hurry, copia. You must stop her. Don’t want Nikia to die, and you…take Oath before moon moves…alignment. With a feeble reciprocal squeeze, Valdemeer’s eyes closed. His grip became slack, and his last breath passed his lips.
Anca couldn’t seem to pry loose her hold as Demi urged her up. She wanted to stay beside her father and mourn his passing, but there was no time. “Goodbye, Papa,” she said softly as she got to her feet.
Demi set a brisk pace, moving with more grace than he had exhibited earlier.
Anca swiped her cheeks. “Are you stronger?”
He nodded. “I’m still weak though.” He grasped the railing of the stairway leading to the tower, leaning heavily against the wall. He handed her the glass of her father’s blood. “Take this. I might drop it.”
She held it reluctantly, refusing to look down at the last precious drops wrung from Valdemeer. She bit back another sob, knowing she had to control her emotions. If she broke down now, she wouldn’t be in any shape to confront Nikia, and too much rested on stopping her half-sister’s scheme.
They made poor time, hampered by Demi’s inability to climb without dragging himself up each step by use of the banister. Halfway up, he waved her on ahead of him. “Go, Anca. I’ll catch up, but you have to stop her.” He pointed to the window at the top of the tower, craning his neck. “The moon will pass out of alignment soon.”
With an uncertain glance at the snifter of blood in her hand, she said, “What about…?”
“I’ll be there in time.” He took the blood from her. “I won’t drop it. I swear.”
She nodded, seeing by the intensity in his eyes he would protect it at all costs. “I love you.” Anca broke into a run, taking the stairs two at a time as they curved around the tower. When she reached the landing, there was only one door, and she plunged through it without thought.
She skidded to a halt, shocked by what she saw. A blood-red orb reflected the moonlight onto a dais where the chalice sat. Her pendant fitted in the slot at the base of the goblet, and it glowed as intensely as the orb aligned with the moonbeam as it absorbed the reflected light. Nikia’s hand grasped the goblet, and she uttered something in Corsovan.
Anca’s eyes moved to where Starr stood, holding an old parchment in bound hands. The young woman shook with fear, and her voice was unsteady. She also spoke Corsovan, but the words got lost amid the sobs issuing from her.
When Anca looked down, she saw why the girl was crying. Ylenia was lying facedown on the floor in a heap. A deep-red stain had soaked through the back of her silver robe, and she wasn’t moving. Obviously, she had tried to stop Nikia or had failed to cooperate.
As Starr finished speaking and Nikia raised the goblet, Anca remembered her purpose, and she rushed forward. “No, don’t do it. Papa told me to keep you from killing yourself.” She ran, but the goblet touched Nikia’s lips before she was even in reach. “Don’t do it, Nikia. Please.”
Nikia didn’t pause. She gulped the contents of the chalice in greedy swallows. Some of the blood dripped from the rim and trickled down her chin, but she didn’t pause to wipe it away. She didn’t stop until she had consumed every drop.
She slammed the goblet onto the dais and rounded on Anca. Her brownish-green eyes held a red glint. “The power. I can’t believe it. I can feel it flowing through every pore…my heart pumping, sending it throughout…” She broke off as a strange expression flitted across her face. She clutched her chest, seeming no longer enthralled by the power flooding her.
Her expression was quizzical as she met Anca’s sad eyes. Nikia held out her hand, seeming to be pleading for something, but having no voice to utter her request. Her eyes widened, and she coughed. Blood poured from her mouth, staining her white robe. She fell to her knees, and a piercing scream freed itself from her throat.
She looked up, meeting Anca’s gaze again. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, Nikia said as she collapsed on the stone floor.
Anca heard footsteps behind her and saw Demi approaching slowly. She rushed to him, embracing him. “I tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen.”
One of his hands smoothed her hair. “She was beyond hearing. She craved power so badly she couldn’t see reason.”
Starr approached timidly. “You have to hurry. There’re only a few minutes left.”
Anca wrapped her arm around Demi’s waist, and he leaned against her as they walked to the dais. She saw Starr fumbling with the chalice, trying to hold it in her bound hands. She leaned Demi against the dais, making sure he had a secure grasp, and turned to Starr. “Let me untie you.”
Starr held out her hands, and Anca struggled with the rope, not making any headway with unraveling the complicated knots.
“She had a dagger.” Starr jerked her head in Nikia’s direction.
Anca went to Nikia, rolling her onto her back. Her eyes widened when she realized her sister breathed shallowly. “She’s still alive.” She touched her throat, finding a weak, but steady, pulse. She noticed Nikia’s eyelids moving back and forth rapidly, and opened one of her lids. Her eyes were twitching in a semblance of REM sleep. “I think she’s in a coma,” she said uncertainly.
“There’s no time to worry about her right now,” Demi said. “Find the dagger, Anca.”
She nodded and looked down. Nothing stuck out of Nikia’s belt, and there wasn’t anything in her pockets. “It isn’t here—“
“Look out, Your Highness,” Starr screamed.
Anca looked up in time to see the woman who had assisted Nikia by taking Demi’s blood rushing toward her with a dagger held over her head. She had been in the shadows of the corner, apparently forgotten by Starr. She rolled out of the way, as the mad woman lunged at her. She kicked out with both of her feet, catching her attacker in the stomach.
With a breathless groan, she fell onto the floor, dropping the dagger in the process. Anca rolled forward and plucked it away before gaining her feet. She searched for some way to bind her, but the only rope she saw was on Starr’s wrists.
“Hurry,” Starr urged.
Reluctantly, Anca grasped the sturdy handle of the dagger and hit the woman against the temple, causing her to crumple into unconsciousness. Absurdly, she found herself saying, “Sorry,” as she hurried back to the dais.
She freed Starr, and the other woman used her sleeve to wipe out the dregs of blood remaining in the goblet. Then she held out her hand for the snifter of blood from Valdemeer. It had started to congeal, and she grimaced as she dumped it in. “Quickly, I need your blood, Your Highnesses.”
Anca passed the dagger to Demi, unable to cut herself. He exhaled sharply when he sliced his forearm and held it over the goblet. When he took her hand and exposed her wrist, she closed her eyes. The blade was sharp and penetrated easily. She opened her eyes again when he moved her wrist over the goblet. The wound closed seconds later, and the chalice brimmed with crimson liquid.
Starr rotated the goblet on the dais and positioned the pendant to absorb the beam from the orb. “Lord Nicodemus, you begin, since you know the Oath. English will be fine, for Her Highness’s sake.”
He put his hand on the base and began speaking. “I acknowledge and embrace my duty as companion to the Protector of Corsova. I pledge my life to protect hers, and I vow to honor the ways of our people.”
“Take a drink,” Starr directed.
Demi lifted the chalice and swallowed some of the blood before returning it to the dais. He aligned it perfectly before moving aside so Anca could stand by the dais. He put his arm a
round her, offering silent support.
She grasped the base of the chalice. “What do I do?”
“Repeat after me.” Starr took the parchment from her pocket. “I acknowledge and embrace my duty as the Protector of our people.”
Anca repeated the line, pausing uncertainly when her hand began to tingle. She finished the first section when Starr admonished her to hurry.
Starr continued reading when she finished speaking. “I will protect our people and traditions. I will remain loyal to our ways. I vow to be a just and fair leader. I accept my burden with grace. I am the Protector of the old ways, and shepherd of the people. I am Corsova.”
Anca had to have Starr repeat part of the Oath, and again she was distracted when the tingling crept up her arm and spread throughout her body. By the time she uttered the last word, she was aware of the tingling in every part of her body.
“Now drink, mistress. Drink it all.”
As Anca finished the goblet of cooling blood, grimacing at its congealed state, Starr spoke in Corsovan, finalizing the ritual. When she returned the chalice to the dais, her body burned with energy, though it was painless. She turned to share her wonder with Demi and was astounded to see he had healed completely and looked restored.
He touched his chest. “The power healed me. I’d forgotten that would happen.” He held out his arms.
Anca went willingly, burying her face against the softness of his sapphire robe. Tears leaked from her eyes, and she didn’t know the exact reason she cried. Grief for her father, an overwhelming sense of power, and fear of the unknown were all reasons for her sobs, but there was something indefinable too. Perhaps pity for her sister, she decided tentatively.
He held her until the storm passed, murmuring soothing words in Corsovan.
When Anca lifted her head, she felt marginally better. “What happens now, my love?”