by Cege Smith
But for Connor, it was exactly the opposite. Although his family hadn’t been wealthy, they had been comfortable. After his schooling, he worked a minimal amount and spent the rest of his time in the taverns gambling, drinking and carousing with his friends. He thought naively that he had a wonderful life. But the shine had worn off of that empty existence not long before the accident with his father. His thoughts had started to turn toward what was next for him.
He thought that he had limitless opportunity. He thought that he might be able to do anything, go anywhere, and build his own destiny. In less than a minute, in a stupid argument with his father it was all gone. He didn’t know how gone it was until Monroe took his human future away altogether.
So as he spent the hours outside the Master’s bedroom, watching for a threat that never appeared, his sense of resentment grew. He wasn’t grateful. The finer trappings of his room barely registered for him. And as time went on, and his hunger drove him to the pens where they kept the humans who served as their food source, he grew more disgusted with himself.
At first, Monroe tried to appeal to him with the physical benefits of his new existence. “Think of it, Connor. You will be able to live forever! You’ve been given a way to cheat death. Your strength and handsome visage will never change. You should thank me.”
Connor ignored him. He frequently left the conversation and returned to his quarters, not wishing to be pulled into the inevitable debate that became a staple of his first years in the coven.
Monroe’s efforts moved up a notch to compulsion. Connor knew that it had little effect on him, which baffled Monroe to no end. Monroe’s efforts to assimilate him into the coven became blatant, but still Connor didn’t give in. Finally, just from the sheer desire of wanting Monroe to leave him alone, Connor took up with one of the vampire elders who had taken a shine to him. Elvry. Monroe seemed content after that.
Connor lost years in that twisted relationship, and if nothing else, it solidified for him that he was never meant to be a vampire. He played the part of the evil monster well. He bled some of the human stock dry even though it was against the coven rules. He blocked out many of the things that he and Elvry did in the privacy of her chambers. He incorporated all of Monroe’s teachings and became a deadly warrior for the Master.
Then, one day without warning, he left it all. He disappeared into the caves of the Solera valley and waited for Monroe to find him. Because it was Monroe, that took less than four days. Connor used that time to meditate and come to peace with his decision. So when Monroe came for him, he was ready to die.
The only warning he had was the slight niggling in his mind that told him another mind was near. He could read the minds of almost everyone, except the vampire elders. The ability to close one’s mind was a secret jealously guarded, although Connor had convinced Elvry to teach him during one of her better moods.
He didn’t bother hiding his mind that night though. He wanted to be found.
He left the item he had stolen from the Master’s private collection on a carefully constructed platform in the middle of the roughly shaped round room of the cave. After fifty years in the Master’s service, he knew that the Master looked at the object every day. It was Connor’s guarantee that his disappearance would be noticed almost immediately.
The object was the gold, jewel-encrusted dagger that Alair Robart specially commissioned to use against the Master. When the peace treaty was signed, Alair gave it to the Master as a parting gift. The Master kept the dagger as a reminder never to let his guard down and to never underestimate the enemy, for Alair had the dagger laced with magic that brought it the power of the sun. It would turn a vampire’s body to ash in seconds.
So when Monroe swept into the cave, a howling swirl of anger and death, Connor stood at the ready. It did no good. Monroe slammed him against the far wall and held him high by his throat. As he hoped, Monroe had claimed the dagger on his way across the room, and it was now positioned against his heart.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you,” Monroe growled. “You have betrayed me, and worse yet, you have betrayed the Master.”
“I am ready to die,” Connor gasped. He didn’t struggle. “Take your revenge.”
He felt the poke of the blade against his breastbone as it slid effortlessly through the cloth of his shirt, and he closed his eyes gratefully. It was all going to be over, once and for all. Finally, he would be at peace.
Then, his body slid to the ground. He had a fraction of a second to wonder what happened when Monroe’s boot connected with his ribs. As the bones shattered, he bit back the howl of pain. Another strike followed, and Connor flipped into the air. He landed heavily on his back as the pain spread rapidly throughout his limbs.
He expected the onslaught to continue, but when it didn’t, he opened his eyes and blinked. Monroe stood over him, his expression calm. “I’ve thought many things about you over the years, Connor Radwin, but I never thought you were a coward.”
Perhaps even more than the physical blows, Monroe’s words hit him and brought him a fresh round of a different kind of pain. “I am a thief and a deserter. The punishment is death. I accept that.”
“Get up,” Monroe said. His tone was hard. “Get up, and face your sentence like a man.”
It took Connor several long, excruciating moments to get to his feet. Although he knew that his vampire healing abilities were already starting to knit his skin and bones back together, it would still take time before he was could move without pain. He had no expectation though that he would live that long.
He faced Monroe and didn’t hide from the older vampire’s hard stare. They stood like that for some time before Connor couldn’t stand it any longer. “What are you waiting for?”
Monroe’s jaw jumped. “An explanation. Why have you done this? I can’t go back to the Master without one.”
“Is that for the Master’s benefit, or to try to save your own skin?” Connor asked, not hiding his contempt.
The blow across his face took him back to his knees. He was surprised that it didn’t break his jaw. He stared at the dark black of Monroe’s boot, and then turned his head as he spat out the small glob of blood that had gathered in his mouth.
“I thought I told you to stand.” Monroe’s voice was low and menacing.
Connor struggled longer this time to rise to his feet. He was beginning to see Monroe’s strategy. There wouldn’t be a quick death for him. This was personal for Monroe, and he wasn’t going to let Connor forget that.
Connor curled his lips into a grin as he leaned against the wall behind him for support. His legs threatened to collapse beneath him, but he wouldn’t give Monroe that satisfaction of seeing how badly he was hurt.
“Is this really necessary?” Connor asked. “We both know how this is going to end. Get it over with already. Go back to your Master and report your success is putting down the runaway dog. You will never have to put up with the embarrassment of my antics again.”
Monroe stared at him for several long moments, and then he shook his head. “No.”
Connor didn’t register the word. It wasn’t what he expected at all. “No?”
“I admit that you’ve had me at my wits end many times, Connor. You have done an excellent job pulling the wool over my eyes, but I see clearly now.”
“See what clearly?” Connor still couldn’t believe that Monroe wasn’t going to kill him. A wave of despair began to build inside of him.
“That I was right to chose you,” Monroe said. “I see it, but you don’t yet. This misguided attempt to get me to kill you is proof of that. You’re lost, my son. Someday, you will be found. Until then, I understand that you need to focus your energy on other pursuits. You can serve the Master and the coven in another capacity. We need to employ someone we trust.”
Connor’s mouth fell open. “I stole one of the Master’s most prized possessions. I ran away from the coven, and you aren’t going to punish me?”
; Monroe smirked. “Unless I’m mistaken, leaving you alive is a far worse punishment for you.”
Connor realized that Monroe was right. He had to do something to convince him. He shook his head. “I will not return to the coven with you. You will have to kill me. If you beat me and drag me back, I’ll find a way to run away again. You can’t make me stay.”
Shrugging, Monroe turned away from him. “You have free rein of anywhere in the Master’s territory. I have a feeling your pursuits will bring you back to the coven sooner or later, but you are free to come and go as you please. I will require your presence at any official ceremony of the coven court, but other than that, your time will be your own.”
“In exchange for what?” Connor didn’t want to continue his immortal existence, but at least the idea of having control of it was appealing.
“Caspian has gone missing again, and the Master requires someone to continue his research. That is all, and it will give you time to pursue your own interests,” Monroe said. “I recall you telling me that you enjoyed your scholarly studies as a boy. You have all the time in the world to learn whatever you wish.”
Stunned, Connor tried to absorb everything that Monroe was telling him. It seemed unreal. “There has to be a catch.”
Monroe chuckled, but it was a harsh sound. “That is how I know you are my son. Always the skeptic. Always the questioner. It is in your blood.” And with those words, Monroe was gone.
The short rapping on the door brought Connor back to his present. He turned Monroe’s words over in his mind. The door cracked open, and then Angeline opened it fully once she saw him standing there.
In her new gown and with her long, dark hair flowing loose over her shoulders, he thought that she looked like a goddess.
“I think Monroe was Clan,” Connor said without any preamble.
Angeline gasped. “Why?”
Connor smiled grimly. “Alron has always been jealous of human royalty. He wants to be a king. If he demanded a Robart bride in the peace treaty, wouldn’t he also have demanded a Clan advisor?”
“That would mean that Monroe was a Baford,” Angeline said, chewing on her lower lip as she considered his words. “We need to confirm your theory.”
“How fortunate that we couldn’t be in a better place to find that out,” Connor replied.
CHAPTER SEVEN
It was all finally starting to make sense. Three hundred years ago, Alair Robart and his brother Treven made a deal with the devil and changed the course of history for all of Altera. Alron, for his part, played everything perfectly, and Angeline had to admit that she had formed a kind of grudging respect for the vampire. He was a survivor, and he played to win. It was a cruel game, and in the end, he didn’t emerge a victor but at least an equal. He had three hundred years to plot a way to change even that outcome.
Eric Robart’s early departure from the world was the perfect opportunity to change fate to his advantage. He sent Connor to intercept her when she left the Sisters of St. Abath. But then another kind of fate stepped in. For the first time, she thought that the spider bite that resulted in Connor turning her into a wraith might have been a fortunate turn of events for her. She was certain that her required appearance in the coven wouldn’t have been a pleasant one.
“Alron has gone to great lengths to gain an audience with me,” Angeline said. She paced the room as Connor watched her from his perch next to the fireplace. She had been thinking on his words as they waited for Marcus’s return so that Connor could rejoin her inside her room. “I will tell Theodora that we must call a meeting of the races to discuss the Immortal Ones.”
Connor’s face turned to her. “What about them?”
Angeline wasn’t sure where she was going with her thoughts, so she just blurted them out hoping that it made sense. “That now that they’ve been awoken, they are a threat to all of us. I can say that they are angry that we’ve intruded on their slumber and now they are going to punish us.”
“But that isn’t true.”
Angeline thought of the three people standing across from her with blazing eyes. There was a horrible kind of foreboding in their vague words, but it was clear that they weren’t expecting her to be there. They flung her back to the Clan with subtle threats knowing little more than she had known before she made the journey.
“I’ve been changed,” Angeline said. The words came out small and uncertain. She didn’t want to talk about what happened with Kallie, but she had too. “If I don’t do something, Theodora will turn the Clan against me. Once it reaches Alron’s ears that I can wake the dead, what do you think he’ll do? I’m a threat to everyone. If I don’t give them a different enemy to fight, it will be me that they rip to shreds. With magic or fangs it doesn’t matter. I may be wraith, but my skin and bones are just as fragile as any other human.”
“This is about what happened with the girl,” Connor started.
Angeline cut him off. “That wasn’t something that is part of the wraith. It was magic. Dark and evil magic.”
“You aren’t a spellcaster,” Connor said, his eyes widening.
“I wasn’t a spellcaster,” Angeline corrected. She held up a small vial that contained a red liquid. “But this is blood from the Immortal Ones. I drank a drop of it earlier, and it enhanced my abilities. I don’t think someone like me was meant to drink it though. We know the Clan draws their magic from the Immortal Ones. It would make sense. And…”
“And?”
“While I was changing just now, I decided to try something,” Angeline said. She continued on before she could stop herself. She needed to say the words out loud. “Tobias mentioned earlier that his study was warded against any eavesdropping. I thought something like that would come in handy right now. So I tried it.”
“You know a spell to ward from eavesdropping?”
“No,” Angeline replied. “But I took another drop of the blood, and the words were just there. I don’t know how I know it worked, but it did. I’m certain of it.”
Connor sat down heavily in the chair next to the fireplace. “You cannot let anyone know of this, Your Majesty. Surely you know that. A wraith with magical abilities is…”
“An abomination?” Angeline laughed harshly. “I have innocent blood on my hands, Connor. I’ve killed to achieve a means to an end, despite the fact that I can justify it away by saying it was for the good of all of my people. I can’t help but wonder if it’s a multitude of decisions like that one that made Alair into the man he was. Human or wraith, it doesn’t matter. I find myself despicable.”
She found herself wrapped in Connor’s arms even as the final words left her lips, and she clung to him.
“You are the furthest thing from despicable. You are facing the reality of what it means to be a queen,” Connor whispered against her ear. “To bear that responsibility means making decisions that under other circumstances, you would never make. To outsmart your enemies, you must think like them, and sometimes act like them. But the important thing is that you can’t let that define who you are. As long as you don’t lose yourself in the process, you will be fine.”
She drew away from him then. To lounge too long in his arms invited other, more distracting thoughts into her mind. “I will use every advantage at my disposal to get what I want, Connor. You need to know that.”
“What is it you want?”
Angeline looked him even as she prepared for what she was going to say. It would sound mad. Crazy. Impossible. But it went far beyond securing her throne or ridding herself of the wraith. She had been thinking far too small. She was a Robart, and that meant that she could envision an entirely different future, and have the belief that she could make it happen.
“I want to destroy them all,” she said. “I want to do what Alair should have done in the first place. Alron and the coven. Theodora and the Clan. Remove anyone who hides in the shadows and pulls strings that affect the people of Altera. I want to right the wrongs of the past so that no one ever needs to li
ve in fear again. Because until that happens, none of us are safe.”
Connor blinked, and then he nodded. “The best way would be to turn them against each other.”
Angeline felt as if a huge weight lifted from her chest, and she grinned. “I thought the same thing.”
Connor smiled back at her before it faded from his face. “How do we know that if we succeeded that the Immortal Ones wouldn’t decide to destroy us as well?”
Angeline had thought about that too. She shrugged. “So be it. Better to be dead than to be damned.”
Connor offered her another smile. “Which of your ancestors said that one?”
Angeline crossed her arms in a fake huff. It felt good to joke, and she had forgotten how well Connor knew her. “Surely there is plenty of room for originality in the Robart legacy.”
Connor gave her a slight bow. “Forgive me then. I forget that the Queen is wiser than her years.”
Angeline moved across the room to sit next to the fire again. She knew that he tracked her every movement. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “It was Franklin Robart.”
His faint chuckle warmed her insides as it reached her ears.
“If you don’t mind, Your Majesty, your shining fresh appearance and rosy scent reminds me that my own is lacking. Do you mind if I spend a few minutes getting cleaned up and changed? You can relax there next to the fire and strategize our next move. As long as you don’t peek, there is no reason to think that my oafish appearance should offend you.”
Angeline turned her head before he could see the rise of heat to her cheeks as she realized that he was going to change right there in her chambers. It was wildly inappropriate. Simply having a man in her chambers for the night would have sent the entire palace into fits of gossip if they were back in Brebackerin. But they weren’t. They were inside the walls of the Clan, and she needed the security of how she felt when he was close by. That was why she hadn’t said a word when he insisted on standing guard inside her room.