The Finale

by Leigh Walker

  I had to make him see that I was still the younger sibling he loved. I was still Gwyneth, his little sister, and I could help him. I nodded to the guards who waited outside.

  “This way, my lady.”

  I followed the three men through the hall, then down the grand staircase. The palace was eerily dark and quiet at this hour. It seemed as if even the vampires had gone to bed. We made our way toward the dungeon. I held my breath, as if breathing would be too loud and out of place in the silence of the stone hallway. I prayed we didn’t run into anyone. What on earth would the king say if he found me with a royal escort, parading around the palace in the middle of the night?

  I briefly wondered where Dallas was, but he was likely in a meeting with the king. Hopefully he’d keep the king busy so that I wouldn’t get caught wandering after curfew.

  Finally, we reached the stairwell to the dungeon. I shivered as I remembered the last time I’d been down these stairs—it had been to see the prisoner Benjamin Vale. He’d escaped and killed three guards, then Dallas had executed him at the request of the king. I forced the thoughts away. I had to stay focused on my brother and on finding some common ground with him.

  A tall, shadowy figure waited on the stair landing, and my heart leapt in my throat. Was it a friend or foe? But then he stepped into the torchlight, and I recognized his handsome face. I sighed in relief. “Hello, Dallas.”

  He frowned. “Gwyneth. A word, please, before you go downstairs.”

  He nodded to the soldiers, and they retreated, guarding the entrance to the stairwell. He reached for my hands, but I stepped back, putting some distance between us.

  He cursed. “I guess you’ve seen the tape.”

  “We saw some of it.” I cleared my throat. “It was nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  “And yet you won’t come near me.” Dallas took a step closer, and my heart rate kicked up. He put his hand on my waist, and my knees buckled. I longed to press my face against his chest, to have him stroke my hair and tell me that everything was going to be okay—with my brother, with the competition, with him.

  But as he wasn’t my fairy godmother, it didn’t seem appropriate to be such a whiner. “It’s not you. I’m worried…I’m worried about Balkyn.” Emotions vied for predominance inside me, but I could concentrate on only one at a time. “Can we please go see him before the whole castle wakes up and I get you into even more trouble with your father?”

  The torchlight cast shadows across Dallas’s face. He didn’t look pleased. “Fine. Follow me.”

  I hesitated. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for Balkyn to see us together.”

  His face darkened further. “Of course. I’ll stay out of sight.”

  I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but my brother had not reacted well to my attachment to the prince. “I think his position is intolerable, but I’m not here for that. I’m here because he’s not eating, and I’m worried about him. Can you understand?”

  Dallas nodded. “Yes, I understand. If I may say so, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to see him, but…”

  “But?”

  “It is your choice, and I respect that. Come.” He motioned for the guards, and we headed down the stairs.

  Dallas glanced over his shoulder at me as we descended, that same grim expression on his face. “You must be prepared—he doesn’t look well. He’s lost quite a bit of weight.” I held my breath again, not knowing what would be waiting for me in the dungeon.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Dallas bowed and stepped to the side. “I’ll be waiting here. If you need me, do not hesitate.”

  “Th-thank you.” My whole body jittered with adrenaline as we entered the prison block. It was as I remembered, with stone floors and walls and the stench of stale body odor. The guards approached the third cell and nodded to me.

  “Prisoner,” one of them called. “You have a visitor.”

  “Like I bloody care.” Balkyn. He sounded surly, but he also sounded weak.

  I rushed to his cell. “Balkyn? It’s me.”

  My brother huddled under a thin blanket. When he sat up on his bunk, I gasped. He had wasted away. His eyes were huge, the skin around them drawn tightly. His cheeks were protruding, and the rest of his face was shallow and sunken, a far cry from the rugged soldier I’d last seen a few weeks ago. “Oh my God! You look terrible.”

  He let the blanket fall to his waist, and I could see his scrawny chest, his ribs protruding sharply beneath his thin T-shirt. “What?” His voice was scratchy. “Do normal humans disgust you now, sister?”

  “Of course not. But forgive me, it is hard for me to see you like this.” I fought back tears. I was angry, shocked, and saddened, everything jumbling together. I shut my eyes, then took a deep breath and faced him again. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

  “You can tell your bloodsucker boyfriend to give us our country back, for starters.”

  I gripped the bars to his cell. “Balkyn. I cannot undo a revolution. But I can help you.”

  “I don’t want your bloody help.” His voice sounded choked.

  I reached through the bars toward him. “Brother, please.”

  “I wish I’d never seen you again.” To my horror, tears ran down his face. He savagely wiped them away, as if they disgusted him.

  “I am still your family. We have the same blood, the same home. I still love you. Let me help you. I can get you something better to eat. The food here’s delicious—”

  He sprang up and lunged toward the bars. “You don’t get it, Gwyneth! I am in hell! I’d no sooner eat the vampire’s food than I would sit and dine with the devil. They’ve bewitched you. It’s some sort of dark magic so that you cannot see the truth of what surrounds you!”

  I took a step back from him, from his fury. “I told you. The prince and his family have been nothing but kind. I see it quite clearly.”

  He leaned forward, into the light, his face strained and shadows visibly etched beneath his eyes. “You have been blinded by their power and their magic.”

  “You’re the one who cannot see. You won’t accept anything that contravenes your hate.”

  “I gave up my life to fight them. I gave my life to protect my family. And now you have turned on me and turned on your own kind. And for what.” He looked me up and down, pure disgust on his face. “For a fancy dress and a hot meal? For a handsome prince? You disgust me, Gwyneth. You are a vampire’s whore.”

  “That’s enough.” Dallas stormed into the room, his cape flying behind him. “Unlock the door.”

  The nearest sentinel obeyed swiftly.

  I clutched at him. “Dallas, no—”

  He ignored me, sweeping into the cell. Balkyn faced him, no trace of fear in his eyes, only hate.

  “No. Please.” I ran and shoved Dallas, but I might as well have been shoving a brick wall.

  Balkyn sneered at me even as Dallas cornered him. “Don’t you defend me. I want nothing from you—not your help, not your pity, certainly not your whorish clout with the prince.”

  “Balkyn, no.” Tears coursed down my face. The hatred in his voice physically stung. My own flesh and blood. “Not like this.”

  Balkyn shook his head, his gaze flicking over the prince. “What did you think was going to come of mixing with their kind?”

  “Mr. West.” Dallas took a step forward. My brother was tall, but the prince made him look tiny, frail. “You seem to have forgotten yourself.”

  “Don’t you speak to me, devil. You’ve ruined my sister!”

  Dallas grabbed my brother by the throat and shoved him against the wall. “You hate me and my kind, and you very well might have your reasons.”

  Balkyn struggled in Dallas’s grasp. “I do hate your kind, you filthy bloodsucker,” he wheezed. “I’d spit on you if your devil-made hands weren’t so tight around my throat.”

  “Dallas, please—”

  The prince turned to me, and I could see it in his face: he was usi
ng every ounce of self-control he had not to snap my brother’s neck.

  “Please don’t kill him.”

  His eyes blazed, but he nodded, once, almost imperceptibly.

  “Don’t spare me on account of that whore.” Balkyn’s words were strangled. “I’d rather be dead than see my own sister like this.”

  Dallas turned back, and they faced one another, each white with rage.

  “You forget yourself, and you also forget your sister. She is innocent. She is good, all that remains so in the world. You will not speak to her like that in my home, or anywhere else, ever again.” Dallas squeezed tighter. “Now, apologize.”

  Balkyn could barely catch his breath, but he still managed to say, “Sod off, bloodsucker.”

  Dallas opened his mouth and hissed so his fangs blazed. “Apologize to your sister. And do it now, or I’m going to drink just enough of your blood to turn you into one of my kind.”

  Balkyn still looked at him with fierce, intractable hatred, but a glimmer of fear lurked beneath. His eyes bulged as Dallas gripped harder.

  “Gwyneth,” Balkyn choked out. “I’m sorry.”

  Dallas released him, and he dropped to the ground.

  “B-Balkyn.” I reached for my brother, but he shrank back, as if he were afraid I was contagious. “P-please.”

  Dallas gently clasped my hands. “Gwyneth, we should go.”

  I nodded, my shoulders shaking with sobs. The prince carefully led me from the cell and Balkyn’s hate-filled glare.

  I wiped my face roughly. There were so many things I wanted to say to my brother, but I didn’t dare.

  “Go away and don’t ever come back,” he croaked from the floor as the sentinels locked his cell door.

  I looked up at Dallas. “Wait.”

  He nodded, the muscle in his jaw so tight it appeared close to snapping.

  I took a deep breath, straightened myself, and turned toward the cell. “Brother. We might not believe the same things, and you might very well hate me. That is your choice. But you are my family, and I will never truly abandon you. That is my choice. I love you, brother. Even as you curse me, I love you.”

  Balkyn watched me as I reached for Dallas’s hand and gripped it. But somehow, I managed not to cry again until we’d turned the corner and I was safely away from the brother who’d broken my heart.

  Chapter 6

  Dark Shadows

  Dallas dismissed the guards and pulled me into one of the studies. He closed the door and came toward me cautiously, as if unsure of what I wanted.

  But only one thing could possibly make me feel any better. I reached for him.

  He exhaled deeply as I buried my face against his chest. He let me cry, not saying a word as I let it all out. Not only was I heartbroken, but I was also enraged. My brother was a bigot. Blinded by his prejudice, he couldn’t even imagine that what I’d told him was the truth.

  Not hating vampires was beyond his comprehension.

  Eventually, I stopped crying. Dallas gave me a handkerchief and some space. He went to the window as I blew my nose, willing myself to let go of the meeting with my brother. “Thank you for letting me see him and for standing up for me.”

  “I wasn’t sure you’d be thanking me.” Dallas gazed out the window, watching the sun come up. “But no one is allowed to speak to you like that, not while I dwell on this earth. Not even your own brother.”

  “He doesn’t want to be my brother anymore.”

  Dallas’s gaze flicked over me, probably taking in my ruined, puffy face. “He’s not himself, Gwyneth. Starving in a cell will do that to you.”

  I sank into a nearby chair. “I don’t think letting him loose would change his attitude too much.” Now that I’d seen Balkyn, the situation seemed even more dire.

  “What would you have me do?” Dallas asked.

  “I don’t know. If we let him go, he’ll run right back to the rebels and tell them all sorts of things about the palace, about you…” I stared miserably at the floor. “And I don’t think he’d stay with my mother if you let him return home.”

  Dallas raised his gaze to meet mine. “I don’t want you to hate me for keeping him prisoner.”

  “I could never hate you.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. “Don’t be so sure.”

  A chill needled my spine. “What does that mean?”

  He went back to looking out the window.

  “Dallas?”

  He sighed. “If your brother starves himself to death in my dungeon, I feel certain that you would grow to hate me.”

  “Like I said, that’s impossible, but let’s not go there yet. We can still save him. There must be a way.”

  “We have another problem.”

  My heart beat erratically in my chest. “What?”

  “I had a meeting with my father when I returned from Eleven.” The muscle in his jaw jumped. “He expressed that he would like me to choose Tamara at the end of the competition.”

  The floor spun beneath me, and I was grateful for the chair. “I see.”

  “I’m only telling you this because I need you to understand what we’re up against.” Dallas shook his head. “I have no intention of listening to him. But his position makes things…more difficult.”

  My head throbbed. “Why Tamara? Why not Blake or Shaye?” The king did not care for me for several legitimate reasons. I’d helped Benjamin Vale escape from his cell, causing the death of three palace guards. I’d been captured by the rebels, and Dallas had been injured when he rescued me. So I understood why the king wouldn’t choose me for his son, but the other two girls were both wonderful. Although it was painful to think about, I believed either one of them would be a better choice for Dallas than Tamara.

  He raked a hand through his hair. “After learning more about her parents, he feels that Tamara’s family connections would be the most advantageous for our political position. It has nothing to do with her personally—he probably doesn’t even know which girl she is. All he cares about is the war.”

  Sensing his misery, I stood and went to him. “He cares about you, too.”

  Dallas wrapped his arms around me. “You don’t know him, but I appreciate the comfort, all the same.”

  I put my head against his broad chest. “So will you…consider it? Your family’s position needs to be strengthened. Tamara would be an advantageous match.” My tongue felt funny, as if it were too big for my mouth, as I forced the words out.

  “No.”

  The fierceness of his tone made me shiver. I did not want to be parted from Dallas, but if Tamara was the right choice for him, as well as the settlements, how could I stand in the way? “I wish we didn’t have to have this conversation, but you should think about your father’s wishes, and your other…your other options.” I swallowed hard.

  “Shh.” He breathed against my hair. “Do not say another word, and do not leave my embrace.”

  I smiled, even as I felt my heart breaking. “Yes, Your Dallas.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “That’s my good girl.”

  I clung to him, never wanting to let go. Although I longed to lose myself in his arms, emotion churned through me. Too much weighed on my shoulders. My own brother hated me. The king wanted the prince to marry Tamara. Everyone was against us, and yet here we were, wrapped in each other’s embrace. There was nowhere I’d rather have been, but so much threatened to wrench us apart.

  Deep down, I worried that letting myself love the prince was dangerous. To love him this much, with the very real possibility of losing him, was akin to emotional suicide. These weren’t the sort of wounds that I could recover from, ever.

  I released him and took a step back. “I should go.”

  Dallas’s gaze darkened. “Gwyneth.”

  My eyes filled with tears. “Do you think that I want to leave you? Do you think that I want to be a runner-up, to watch you with the other girls? To watch Tamara straddle you? To watch you choose someone else as your wife?”<
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  He reached for my hands and gripped them. “No, I don’t.”

  “I have to do what’s right for you.” My voice shook. “And how can that mean asking you to choose me when my brother’s starving himself down in your dungeon, and he’d rather stake you than accept your gruel?”

  “You are right for me because I say so.” He glowered. “No one—not the king, not your brother, not bloody Tariq—can tell me otherwise.”

  I straightened my spine and banished my tears. “But I can.”

  Dallas sighed, sounding exasperated. “Are you trying to give me a headache?”

  “No, I am trying to save your life.”

  He scoffed. “Explain yourself. Quickly, so I have a chance to kiss you multiple times before I have to go to another bloody meeting.”

  I winced—I wanted nothing more than to hurl myself into his arms and snog him until neither of us could see straight—but too much was at risk. “Your father wants you to choose Tamara for a reason. Politically, she’s an advantageous match.”

  “She’s a pushy, spoiled—”

  I held my hand up to stop him. “She can help you. Her family can help you. I remember when we first met. You told me that’s what this competition was all about, bringing peace and harmony to the settlements. The Pageant is political, Dallas. Feelings are important, but they’re not the most important thing. You started this for a reason—to protect the settlements and secure your family’s position. You told me that yourself.”

  Dallas straightened to his formidable height. “To marry a settler—a human—would be, in and of itself, a huge political accomplishment. Any human settler. That’s why I brought you all here. So that I could choose which one of you made me happy, the one that I could spend the rest of my life with. I was not shopping for a political running mate. I was looking for my wife. My father understood and approved of my motivations, but now that he’s seen he can gain an edge, he’s pushing for more. Which is so very typical of him, it’s sickening.”