by Becca Blake
“This is what I was coming here to show you before I found that note.” She pulled the weapon out from her waistband and held it out for him.
Zephyr’s face paled as he stepped back, refusing to take it from her. “Where did you get this?”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it fucking matters!”
Miria dropped the sword and sat down on his bed, wrapping her arms around her knees. That wasn’t the reaction she’d been expecting. “When I saw how badly Azalea was being hurt, I went for a walk in the market after curfew.”
Zephyr’s shoulders fell. “I heard a vampire was killed in the market, but… Shit. That was you?”
“Yes.”
He breathed out a curse. “Do you want the vampires to kill you?”
“No. I want to kill them.”
“We have hundreds of years to come up with an escape plan. There was no reason to do any of the stupid shit you’ve done in the past two days. You just got sent to the mines for a violent attack on another elf. You’re going to be one of the first people they question about this!”
“I know that,” Miria hissed. “That’s why I brought this here for you to hide until we can find a way out.”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Zeph, please. They won’t find it here. They have no reason to suspect you.”
“Do you not care about who you’re putting in danger?” he demanded. “Because it’s not just you! What happens if they find this sword stashed away at my place? What if they’d found it at your place, with Azalea there?”
“I obviously didn’t go out last night planning to kill a vampire,” Miria said, trying to keep her voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry through the walls. “It just kind of happened.”
“What do you mean, it just kind of happened?”
“It doesn’t matter. Did you not hear what I said? Azalea is feeding Nero. We have to get out now before she gets hurt even worse.”
Zephyr ran his hands through his hair again. “If she’s feeding Nero, she’s too much of a risk. There’s no way we could get out of here alive right now if we brought her along.”
Miria picked the sheathed sword up and pressed it against Zephyr’s torso. “I can’t leave her. The only thing I’ve been living for since I was dragged down here was protecting her. That’s all I have.”
“That’s all you have?” He took the sword from her and tossed it across the room. It clattered against the wall, sliding a few inches out of the sheath. He took a step closer to Miria and cupped her cheek in his hand. “That’s bullshit,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, his lips lingering just beyond hers.
“I have to go.” Miria pulled away from him. “I can’t stay here. Sooner or later, this city is going to kill me. Or Azalea. If you’re not going to help us get out of this shit hole, then we’ll have to go without you.”
She closed her hand around the doorknob, shaking with all of the emotions at war within her. She hadn’t thought about what she would do if Zephyr refused to help her. He’d always been part of her plan.
Without saying a word, Zephyr crossed the room and spun Miria around, pinning her against the door. Before she could ask what the hell he thought he was doing, his lips crashed into hers with a desperate need.
Miria’s tense body relaxed in his arms, and she welcomed the kiss with a hunger that matched his.
He pulled away from her, planting kisses along her jawline until he reached her ear. “You may not place any value on your own life, but I do. I don’t want to lose you. You’re too important to me.”
Miria wrapped a leg around him as she kissed him again, rougher and more desperate this time. She hadn’t realized how much she’d longed for this.
He carried her across the room and laid her down on the bed, pausing only briefly to tear away her shirt and pants.
Zephyr did the same. His body, warm and hard, pressed against hers as he entered her, filled her to her core. She ran her hands along the tight muscles on his back, through his thick, textured hair. She couldn’t get enough of him.
She needed more.
Maybe Azalea wasn’t the only person she had to live for. She could live for this. For Zephyr.
She bucked her hips again, matching his fervor, his desperation. She needed him, needed all of him. His hands explored her, just as greedy as her own. He caressed her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, feeling her everywhere as he filled her, over and over again until they were both spent, and he collapsed on the bed next to her.
Miria let Zephyr hold her close as they steadied their heavy breaths.
He kissed her forehead. “Miria, I…”
“Mmm?” Miria nuzzled her head into his neck. “What is it?”
“I’ll help you. We can find a way out together.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“No more surprises, though, okay? We have to be smart about this.”
“I promise.”
“Have you told her yet?”
“What do you mean?” Miria propped herself up on an elbow to get a better look at his face.
“Have you told Azalea about what you did last night?”
“No, not yet,” she groaned, wishing he would have let her enjoy the moment just a little longer. “I’ll tell her once we have a plan and we’re ready to leave.”
“What if she doesn’t want to go? Are you prepared to leave without her?”
Miria rolled away from him and looked up at the wooden planks on the ceiling. “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course Azalea will want to leave Terra Nocturne. Why wouldn’t she?”
“Is she being forced to feed Nero? Or is she choosing it?” Zephyr asked.
“I…don’t know,” Miria said. She assumed Nero had been forcing her to feed him, but Zephyr had a point—she could be choosing to feed Nero. And if she fed the vampire king willingly, would she even want to leave at all?
More importantly, could Miria trust her enough to ask? She certainly couldn’t drag Azalea out of Terra Nocturne kicking and screaming—not if they wanted to stay quiet on their way out.
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Miria said finally. “I’ll see if we can trust her. And if we can’t…”
Then she would have to abandon her closest friend to the monsters in the dark.
12
Miria hadn’t intended to spend the night in Zephyr’s apartment at all, let alone in his bed. She rolled away from the warmth of his arms and flicked on the light on his bedside table. His clock informed her that she only had ten minutes to make it to her next shift at the mines.
“Shit,” she whispered as she slid out of bed, careful not to disturb Zephyr. Even if she hurried, she wasn’t likely to make it on time given the dangerous walk up. Still, she had to get there as quickly as possible. She hadn’t seen anyone be punished for arriving late yet, but Derrick wasn’t very forgiving, and she didn’t want to catch his attention.
She threw her long hair up in a quick ponytail, and dressed as quickly as she could manage. After making sure the door closed softly behind her, she rushed outside, no longer bothering to stay quiet. She sprinted down the cobblestone streets toward the tunnels, hoping that maybe no one would notice her tardiness. She could slip in when the vampire guard wasn’t looking, and—
Miria slammed to a halt as her body connected with someone else’s. She started to mumble an apology but stopped mid-sentence when she got a better look at the woman in front of her.
Azalea was dressed in an elegant black gown, one Miria was certain she hadn’t owned before. “Miria! I thought you’d already be at work by now.”
“I should be. I spent the night at Zephyr’s and slept in.” Her eyes flicked down to Azalea’s neck, searching for signs that she’d been attacked again, but her skin was smooth and unmarked. Even the bruises from the previous day seemed to be gone
.
Azalea’s face lit up. “You spent the night at Zephyr’s? Did anything happen?”
“Yeah, but I really need to go.” She wanted to ask where Azalea had spent the night and where she’d gotten the dress, though she suspected she already knew the answers to both questions. But there was no time for that conversation—she had to get to the mines.
“You and Zephyr finally get together, and all you can tell me is ‘yeah’? I need details!”
“Look, we’re in the middle of the street, and I’m late for work. Can it wait until I get home? We need to talk later, anyway.”
Azalea grabbed Miria’s arm before she could walk away. “What do you mean, we need to talk? You can’t just leave me with that.”
“Guess we’re doing this now, then.” Miria led Azalea into an empty alleyway behind them. She pulled the scrap of paper from Nero out of her pocket and held it up in front of her.
The color drained from Azalea’s face. “I can explain—”
“There’s nothing to explain. The note is pretty damn clear.” Miria tossed it to the ground. “And even if I didn’t find it, look at what you’re wearing. That fancy dress didn’t come from the market. I’m not an idiot. You’re selling yourself to the enemy.”
“It’s not like that! I was hoping I’d get home while you were already at work so I could change. I didn’t want you to know about this,” Azalea said.
“I know I’ve seen you come home covered in blood and bruises over the past few days. And none of that was from Aeidan, was it?”
“No,” Azalea said. “But they weren’t from Nero, either. They were from a different vampire who attacked me, and I ki—”
“I don’t care,” Miria said. “What you’re doing is stupid.”
Azalea picked up the crumpled piece of paper, crushing it in her fist. “If you’re going to try to scold me about this like I’m a dumb kid, then you’re at least going to listen to me explain. Nero didn’t do any of this to me! He didn’t even feed from me.”
Miria scowled. “Just listen to yourself. That’s a bunch of bullshit.”
“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you yet. I wanted to get us both a place in the Second District so we could get out of here and live better lives. Now I have a chance to secure us both a place at Nero’s castle. Do you have any idea what kind of life that would be for us? I mean, gods, Miria! Look at this dress I’m wearing! We could live in luxury. It’s the best life we could ever hope for in Terra Nocturne.”
“I don’t want any kind of life in Terra Nocturne. I don’t want to spend my life enslaved for my fucking blood.”
“Well, we don’t exactly have a choice, do we?” Azalea shot back. “Besides, Nero’s servants at the castle don’t feed him, or anyone else. They never have to give their blood at all.”
“And you think that makes it any better?”
“I’m trying to make the best of our situation. What about you? What exactly are you doing, other than getting yourself sent off to the mines for violent outbursts?”
The words struck Miria like the flash of a whip, and she stared at Azalea in stunned silence as they sunk in. She’d gotten herself sent to the mines for attacking the man she believed hurt her friend.
Azalea never asked for her to protect her. In fact, she’d asked Miria not to. Still, to have it thrown back in her face like that hurt like hell.
Miria shoved past Azalea, avoiding her gaze as she walked away. “I have to go.”
“Miria, wait. I’m sorry,” Azalea said, rushing after her. “Just be safe, okay?”
“Yeah. You too.”
No matter how fast she ran away from Azalea now, their conversation had removed any chance of her making it to work on time. Worse, if she’d been questioning whether or not to tell Azalea about what had really happened that night in the market, she was now certain she couldn’t. Whatever had happened to Azalea that made her submit to feeding vampires, she seemed to be under their spell now. It wasn’t safe to tell Azalea the truth anymore.
She climbed the long, narrow steps up the cliff to the ledge where her supervisor waited for her.
“Forty-three minutes late, girl.”
“It won’t happen again.” Miria picked up a pickax from the rack next to him and started toward the tunnel entrance.
The vampire stuck his leg out and tripped her, sending the pickax clattering to the ground just inches from where her head landed. His hand hovered over the whip attached to his belt. “I ought to give you forty-three lashes as a reminder.”
Miria pushed herself up, but the vampire’s heavy boot slammed into her side. She fell back to the ground with a pained grunt.
He kneeled down, leaning over her with his head uncomfortably close to hers. “I’ll let it slide this time. But you’re damned right this won’t happen again, unless you’d like to add another year to your sentence up here.”
“I don’t even know how long my sentence is.”
The vampire chuckled as he stood back up and returned to his post by the entrance. “It’s long enough. Be glad you’ve got such a long life span.”
Don’t give him an extra reason to be pissed off. The advice came to her in Zephyr’s soft, soothing voice, enough to calm the rage boiling inside her.
Miria got to her feet, picked up the ax, and walked through the main tunnels without saying another word to the guard. The voice of warning in her head was right. She didn’t need to antagonize them. She was in enough trouble already without her smart-ass mouth getting her into more.
The main tunnel opened up into a wide clearing that split into five different pathways, each leading to a separate sprawling set of tunnels. It truly was a maze, and without the signs attached to the wooden beams, it would be impossible to tell which way was which. Miria followed the tunnel on the far left all the way to its end.
Girard wiped a hand on his forehead and turned around at the sound of her footsteps. “Took you long enough to show up. I imagine Derrick wasn’t too thrilled about you being late.”
Miria lifted up her shirt enough to show him the bruise that was forming where the vampire had kicked her.
Girard whistled. “That’ll be a nasty one. Hope you had a good reason.”
“No, not really. Azalea and I got in a fight.” She began working with a heavy sigh. “She seems content living down here. I don’t get it.”
“She’s not a fighter. At least, not in the same way as you. She’s strong in her own way. I’m sure she’s just making the best of the life she has in front of her. From her perspective, there’s no point in longing for a rescue that will never come.”
“I just need her to trust me more than she trusts the vampires,” Miria said, keeping her voice low enough that it wouldn’t be overheard. “I can get us out. Then we can go alert the elven armies in Viridi. We can save everyone.”
“The elven armies aren’t going to save anyone.”
Miria frowned. “What do you mean?”
Girard sighed. “I’ve been down here for more than six hundred years. The cities on the surface know about us. They just don’t care.”
“That’s bullshit.” Chunks of rock and dirt fell to the ground at her feet as she dug the tunnel deeper. “I had no idea about any of this until I was dragged down here.”
Girard let out a harsh, derisive laugh. “The everyday folk wouldn’t know, of course. They’d riot about kids being stolen away, especially if they knew the Court was aware.”
“Bullshit,” Miria repeated, though there was less conviction in her voice this time.
“When I was a boy, my father traded me to Nero Cineris himself for a leyline crystal the size of his head, or may the gods strike me down today. They know, kid. They leave us here to rot because they like the trade with the vampires.”
Miria frowned. “Trade? Who trades with a city of vampires?”
“Even if that’s true, I’m not waiting around for a rescue. If no one is coming for me, I can find a way out on my own.”
“Good luck with that.” Girard grunted, his breath coming heavier with the hard labor. “Avaline and I spent our whole damned lives trying to find a way out of here.”
Miria closed her eyes. “I can’t do that. I can’t live like this.”
“Listen, Miria. Avaline and I loved you and Azalea like you were our own. I’m proud of the women you’ve become, and I hope you do get out of here someday. But don’t put your life on hold until you do. We have to live the lives we’re given and search for whatever happiness we can find.”
She couldn’t tell him why it was so important for them to get out now. He couldn’t know what Azalea was doing with Nero, or how Miria had killed the people in the market. It would break his heart.
She dropped her ax to wrap her arms around Girard.
“There is always hope to be found, even in a world as cruel as this. Don’t deny yourself the ability to find it,” Girard whispered in her ear.
“I’ll try,” she said.
Girard kissed her forehead, then returned to work. The repetitive clinking of their axes filled the air as they left the conversation there. Miria wasn’t sure what else she could say to Girard. She cared about him, but there was nothing she feared more than ending up like him—old and tired and accepting of her fate. She would never let that happen.
She would get out of Terra Nocturne or die trying.
Miria attacked the wall with furious swings, paying little attention to where she was aiming the pickax. She hated them all, and she’d make them pay. She channeled her anger into her swings, which became more powerful, more reckless, with each swing despite the ache.
“Careful,” Girard growled. “Watch where you’re swinging!”