With a reluctant grimace, Ligeia said, “Yes. That would be her room.”
“Smart,” Kara said, resting her hands on her stomach, as she rocked back in her chair. “If someone wanted to hurt her, they’d have to go through you first.”
“Yes,” Ligeia confirmed, again, “that is the idea.” She smoothed a hand over her stomach, feeling the cool leather that guarded it. “The princess is ancient and powerful. She can protect herself. But as her warrior, I prefer to protect her.”
A small smile curled at the corners of Kara’s mouth. “I can respect that.”
“What is this?” Rose asked, suddenly, her gaze still locked on the symbol.
Ligeia glanced at her, then followed her gaze. “Ah. It’s my first shield.”
“And a perfectly good sword, going to waste,” Kara muttered to herself.
Rose longed to ask about the symbol, specifically, but something inside her seemed to close up when she tried, as if her mind itself were preventing her from learning the truth. “First?” she said, instead. “How old does that make it?”
“Are you asking me to reveal my age,” Ligeia said slowly, “my Eklektos?”
“Not cleverly enough, apparently,” Rose muttered under her breath, “but yes. I was hoping you would.” She glanced at Ligeia, offering an apologetic smile.
Ligeia bent her head—in what seemed like a…regretful bow. “I’d prefer to leave that to the princess to tell you. I wouldn’t want to unknowingly go against her will,” she explained. “I hope you’ll forgive me, my Eklektos. I am truly sorry.”
“So weird,” Rose blurted out, before she could stop herself. She blinked. “I mean…yeah. Sure. You’re forgiven. My curiosity isn’t that important.”
Kara chuckled. “So, when will Princess Uptight be joining us?”
Ligeia’s jaw tightened. “Princess Myrinne will join us after she completes her nightly rituals,” she said between clenched teeth. She turned to face Kara, her dark brown eyes flashing dangerously. “Don’t insult my princess. Warrior.”
Kara grinned and lifted her eyebrows, as if she’d just been encouraged.
“Rituals?” Rose repeated. Her brows furrowed. “What kind of rituals?”
“Human sacrifice, right?” Erik interjected. “I bet it’s human sacrifice.”
Rose wrinkled her nose. “I’m really starting to worry about you, Erik.”
“It’s…not human sacrifice,” Ligeia said with a frown. Her intense, brown gaze shifted back to Rose. “The princess was a high priestess before she took the throne. She cannot serve as both, but she still participates in the rituals. Privately.”
Rose frowned curiously. “A high priestess of what, exactly?”
Ligeia’s dark eyes widened. For a moment, she seemed absolutely thrown off by Rose’s question—as if it had been the last question she’d ever expected to hear come out of Rose’s mouth. But then, she said, “Our religion, my Eklektos.”
Rose was just about to ask which religion that was—when Elise suddenly called out, “Hey, is this the princess?” She waved her hand at a large painting.
Ligeia glanced at a tall painting on her wall—of a tiara-wearing woman, standing next to a dark-haired woman in armor. “Yes,” she said with a fond smile, “a friend painted it for me. To commemorate the night Princess Myrinne made me commander of her army. It was one of the happiest nights of my immortality.”
Rose smiled at the pride she heard in the warrior’s voice. Her smile faded, however, when she realized exactly what Ligeia had said. “Wait, she has an army?”
“Of course,” Ligeia assured her, “and they’ll be honored to meet you.”
“Me?” Rose sputtered. “Why would they be honored to meet me?”
Ligeia didn’t answer. “The princess styled her hair differently back then,” she sighed, staring thoughtfully at the painting. “We were so much younger then.”
Rose glanced at the painting, too, and froze, as she noticed something. “Ligeia? Colina wouldn’t happen to be related to Princess Myrinne, would she?”
Ligeia’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Yes, actually. How did you know?”
“They have similar features,” Rose said simply. She frowned. “If Colina’s related to the princess, why is she a servant? And why isn’t she allowed in here?”
Rose noticed a flicker of something in Ligeia’s eyes—hesitation, perhaps? Or anxiety? But Ligeia recovered quickly, her shoulders relaxing, the nervousness that Rose had briefly glimpsed disappearing. “She’s merely a cousin,” Ligeia said, “my Eklektos. Besides, Colina’s from the…disgraced side of the family.”
Kara rocked back in her chair, trailing her fingertip along the edge of one of her daggers. Aside from a very brief, shared look with Rose—while Ligeia was looking the other way—she gave no indication that she was even a little interested in the little dance around the truth Ligeia was doing. But Rose sensed her building suspicion, her amusement, even. Not only did Kara suspect that Ligeia was hiding something, but she clearly enjoyed the thrill of it all: the deception and treachery.
Rose didn’t know whether to be peeved or amused by that realization—that as frustrating and terrifying as all of this was, Kara was loving it. She shifted her gaze toward Ligeia, her bright blue eyes narrowing. “Disgraced? Don’t tell me you’re one of those punish-the-kids-for-the-sins-of-the-parents types. Because if you are,” Rose paused, flashing a sassy smile, “you might as well punish me, too.” She shrugged. “My mom was a criminal. My brother was a criminal. It’s probably a safe bet that my father was, too—though no one could be sure, since I have no idea who he is. That’s pretty much the definition of disgraced, don’t you think?”
Ligeia blinked in shock. “I… I just,” she stammered, clearly not sure how to react. “My Eklektos, I never would’ve imagined you’d come from such…” she trailed off. With a quick bow, she said, “I’m sorry if I offended you, my Eklektos.”
Rose’s brows furrowed. “No one’s offended me,” she laughed. “It kind of weirds me out how not-offensive you all are, actually. I mean, you guys do know I’m just a normal person, right? Because you act really weird around me.”
Kara pretended to study a painting of the Mediterranean, as she watched Ligeia out of the corner of her eye. Based on the way Ligeia straightened, and the way her dark brows furrowed in disbelief, Kara figured it was safe to assume that Ligeia did not know that Rose was a normal person. Or—more accurately—that Rose thought of herself as one. Because even Kara knew that Rose wasn’t normal.
What she didn’t know was what, exactly, these people knew about Rose.
Not only was Rose apparently unaware of just how important she was to these people; she didn’t even notice Ligeia’s confusion about it—because she was too busy looking at another painting. “All I’m saying,” Rose said, as she picked up a small portrait from the nightstand, “is that you shouldn’t treat Colina—or anyone else—as if they’re less than, because of something somebody else did.”
Ligeia nodded slowly. “I will take that into consideration, my Eklektos.”
Rose turned the portrait around, showing it to Ligeia. “Who is this?”
Ligeia stared at the small, painted portrait of a beautiful woman with dark skin and curly, black hair. The woman’s smile was quirked to the side a little—a perfect rendition of the smile that Ligeia had once loved so much. She sighed.
“It was by the bed,” Kara told Rose, “which means lover.” She flashed a sly smirk, when Ligeia glared at her. “But turned upside down. Which means ex.”
“This is Zosime?” When Ligeia nodded, Rose smiled. “She’s beautiful.”
Ligeia blushed, a small smile turning up at the edges of her mouth. “Yes.”
Rose’s smile deepened. She still didn’t know enough about Ligeia or the princess—or anyone else here, for that matter—to know whether she liked them or not, but this side of Ligeia was…pretty endearing, actually. She glanced at the portrait in her hand, wondering
if she’d feel the same way about this woman that someone had painted so beautifully, the woman who had apparently predicted all of this. She returned the portrait to Ligeia’s nightstand, turning it over, like it’d been before she’d picked it up. She turned toward the door, as she heard it open.
Princess Myrinne stood in the doorway, wearing a long, thick, blue dress. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her—before kneeling in front of Rose. Like she’d done the night of the battle, she pressed her fist to her chest, as she bowed, revealing that strange symbol on her hand. Frowning, Rose glanced back at the shield on Ligeia’s wall, which displayed the exact same symbol.
Games
Princess Myrinne turned to Elise. “How are you feeling? Better, I hope?”
“Well, I mean, she was dying the last time you saw her,” Rose muttered under her breath, “so I doubt she’s feeling worse.” She heard Elise giggle at that.
“I am,” Elise told the princess, smiling. “Thank you for that, by the way.”
The princess shrugged her slender shoulders. “No thanks needed,” she assured Elise. “Our priestesses were honored to help a friend of the Eklektos.”
Elise leaned toward Rose. “Does this make us friends with benefits?”
Rose turned toward Elise, pinning her with a blank stare.
Kara chuckled. “Rose comes with the best kinds of benefits.”
Rose turned and directed the exact same blank stare at Kara.
Kara just winked at Rose, before returning her attention to the dagger in her hand—which she was currently polishing with a silky, black handkerchief.
Without even thinking about it, Rose slipped her hand into her pocket, tracing her thumb over another silky, black handkerchief of Kara’s—the one Kara had given her the night they met. It was such a natural, instinctual action for Rose that she didn’t even realize she was doing it, as she glanced back at the princess.
Princess Myrinne’s gaze shifted from Rose to Elise, from Elise to Kara, and then, from Kara to Rose again. She looked absolutely baffled by their banter.
Or…more likely, appalled by it.
“So, I guess your friend,” Rose paused, casting a quick glance at Ligeia, “Zosime, was right, after all. The storms have passed, and we’re all fine. Right?”
“Right,” the princess agreed. “No one on this ship suffered in any way.”
“I suffered,” Erik whined, “being cooped up in that room all week long.” His lip curled. “I didn’t even have a TV. It was like the Dark Ages all over again.”
“You’re awfully high-maintenance for an ancient warrior,” Rose said.
Kara grinned at Elise. “It sounds like Elise didn’t keep you busy enough.”
Elise giggled. “What can I say? He just doesn’t have the stamina you did.”
Erik shot a betrayed look at both of them. “I have plenty of stamina,” he grumbled. He rolled his eyes. “This is just like when I was with Alana.” His brows furrowed. “I really have to stop sleeping with women who have slept with Kara.”
“That’s going to be hard,” Elise teased, “since there aren’t many women who haven’t.” She smiled at Kara—who simply smirked and lifted her eyebrows.
Princess Myrinne looked even more appalled than before, her pale blue gaze darting from one person to another, not sure what to think of Rose’s strange friends—who probably weren’t even as strange as Rose. She cleared her throat, drawing the attention back to herself. “As a matter of fact, not only did we survive the storms,” she told Rose, “but it seems they’ve sped up our journey a little bit.”
Rose lifted an eyebrow. “Wait. Are you saying the storms…helped us?”
“In multiple ways, actually,” Ligeia added. She tilted her head to the side, her dark braid falling over her shoulder, as she studied Rose with a curious frown.
Rose glanced at Ligeia, then back at the princess. “What do you mean?”
Unlike Ligeia, whose expression gave away her curiosity and fascination easily, Princess Myrinne kept her emotions carefully concealed. “My Eklektos, it appears that we didn’t fully escape the notice of your human foes,” she explained. “A few days ago, during the day, a helicopter closed in on us. They’d been tracking us, preparing to attack. But before they could attack us, the storms…interceded.”
Rose blinked. “Umm…they interceded? How does a storm intercede?”
Erik whistled, plunging his fingers downward. When his imaginary plane hit the imaginary water, he made a splashing sound and lifted his eyebrows at her.
“She said it was a helicopter,” Rose said. “Helicopters don’t fall like that.”
Erik narrowed his eyes. He turned to Kara. “How do you tolerate her?”
“Oh, I don’t just tolerate her,” Kara said with a wicked grin. “I enjoy her.”
Rose blushed, maintaining very awkward eye-contact with the princess.
“The humans clearly meant to attack during the daylight hours,” Princess Myrinne said, “while we slept. We wouldn’t have been able to defend ourselves.”
“Attacking in the daylight,” Kara said. “Classic Assassins of Light move.”
Rose’s brows furrowed. “What are you saying? The storms protected us?”
Kara studied Rose curiously, noticing the confusion twisting at her face. She wondered if Rose even remembered the storms that had blown through the night her brother died. Rose had told Kara before that she didn’t remember much about that night, but Kara remembered every detail. She remembered the way the storms had seemed to mirror Rose’s pain—turbulent, out-of-control, destructive.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Princess Myrinne said, “my Eklektos.”
A soft, disbelieving laugh escaped Rose’s lips. “Weird coincidence,” she muttered, ignoring the puzzled look that came over the princess’s face. She buried her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “How long until we reach your kingdom?”
“It’s hard to be sure, exactly,” Ligeia explained, “because we’re so far off course. But the captain believes we’re much closer now than originally expected.”
“I’m sorry; are you wearing armor?” Elise interrupted. She’d been behind Erik and Rose—and next to Kara—for most of the conversation, but she circled around them now, moving closer to Ligeia. She smiled and tilted her head to the side, her long, blonde curls falling over her shoulders, as she studied the leather that molded to Ligeia’s form. “I didn’t notice because it’s so nice. And elegant.”
Ligeia blushed. She actually blushed. “Oh, this—this is just a spare set,” she told Elise. “I use it for stealth. Or casual situations. My official armor is nicer.”
Rose tried not to laugh. “You wear armor in casual situations?”
“You…realize you’re a vampire, right?” Erik said. “You don’t really need armor. You can heal—not from decapitation, but armor won’t prevent that, either.”
“An injury would slow me down,” Ligeia said. “It might even incapacitate me. No respectable warrior would risk that, when they have someone to protect.”
Kara rocked back in her chair. “And clearly, Ligeia is very respectable.”
Ligeia’s dark gaze shifted toward Kara. “Are you mocking me, warrior?”
“Little bit,” Kara said with a grin. She propped her boots on the ottoman again. “Look, I honestly don’t care what kind of warrior you think I am, but just so you know, armor doesn’t really blend in, the way it used to. Now, I have no clue where all of you are from, but where we’re from, blending in is sort of important.”
“Especially when you’re trying to keep what you are a secret,” Erik said.
“That is,” Princess Myrinne interjected, “admittedly, not an issue for us.”
“How is it not?” Elise asked. “It’s an issue for all vampires. Everywhere.”
“You’ll understand when we reach the kingdom,” Princess Myrinne told her, “which will be soon. My warrior meant no offense. I assume you know that?”
“Your warrior?” Elise repeated bewilderedly. “What does that mean?”
“Ah,” Princess Myrinne said. She offered Elise a polite smile. “I forgot. You weren’t awake for the introductions.” She bowed. “I am Princess Myrinne, and Ligeia is my warrior. She commands the army of the Kingdom of Skotalia.”
“Skotalia,” Rose said under her breath. “Why does that sound familiar?”
Kara placed her feet on the floor, watching Rose with a curious frown.
“So, by your warrior,” Elise said, “you mean she commands your army?”
“Yes,” the princess said, “but I also mean she’s my personal warrior. She serves me in all of the ways I…assume Kara Unnarsdóttir serves the Eklektos.”
Kara snorted. Her light blue eyes, sparkling with mischief, shifted toward the princess. “All the ways?” she said, her lips pressed tightly together, obviously holding back laughter. She leaned back in her chair, slowly trailing her gaze down Princess Myrinne’s body. “I have to admit: I honestly thought you were straight.”
The princess bristled, shocked that anyone would even have the nerve to look at her the way Kara was—much less do it so blatantly. When she finally did manage to speak, her voice was laced with enough venom to kill a horse. Or more likely, twenty-seven of them. “What, exactly, is that supposed to mean, warrior?”
Kara laughed. “I love it when they call me warrior,” she said—to no one in particular, “to remind me of my place.” She grinned. “As if I’d ever stay in it.”
“Straight,” Rose explained. “It’s just a casual way of saying heterosexual.”
“I know what the word means,” Princess Myrinne muttered. She turned to Ligeia and sighed, “What is the foul-mouthed warrior trying to say to me now?”
Ligeia looked as if she were desperately trying to keep a straight face and failing. “I believe the Eklektos and her warrior are…together, Your Highness.”
The Reign of Darkness Page 10