White Knight

by Ingrid Seymour

  He didn’t make eye contact, for which I was glad. I wanted to hide the truth in my eyes for as long as possible, even if it was inevitable that he would see it. I’d come to let him know I was now a Rook, but delaying the news allowed me to dream for a few more seconds.

  I could pretend for a little longer that he would take me in his arms and kiss me, rather than step back with a horrified expression on his face and a twist of disgust on his perfect lips.

  Nyro stopped a few paces from me. I stared at his boots, black with bits of snow stuck to the sides. The park was so quiet I could hear his agitated breaths.

  “Hello, Bianca,” he said in that deep voice that made my skin rise up in goosebumps.

  “Hello, Nyro.” I took a deep breath and glanced up, ready to meet his gaze. But he was staring at my boots, the way I’d been staring at his.

  Finally, he glanced up, too, his own red-tinted gaze meeting mine.

  I gasped.

  His mouth opened and made an “O” of surprise. He rushed toward me and seized my hands in his.

  “Are you alright?” he asked with so much concern in his voice that it made my heart quiver.

  “I am. And you?”

  A hot breath hurried past his lips, creating a plume of steam in the air. “Not you, too.”

  There was such emotion and distress in his voice that it made me wonder if his transition to Rook had been as horrible as mine, perhaps even worse.

  He lifted a hand to my face and gently brushed my cheek with a thumb. He examined me with care, his eyes wavering with emotion as he did so.

  “Oh, Bianca,” he whispered, “how could they do this to you?”

  I frowned slightly, thinking that if I was a Rook, it was my own doing. I’d joined the White Court voluntarily, with a plan for revenge. I was where I’d planned to be. Whether or not I wished this to be my destiny, I had no other choice. Why did he think something had been done to me? Was that what had happened to him? Oh, gods!

  Nyro removed his hand and took a step back, a frown furrowing his brow as he read my features.

  “Did they force you?” I asked.

  “You wanted this?” He asked at the same time.

  We stood silent for a moment, processing what we’d learned. Then we both spoke at the same time again.

  “How could they?” I said.

  “Why would you?” he said, his voice tainted with incredulity.

  So it was as I had feared. He didn’t like me as a Rook—even if he, himself, was one, too. I turned away from him and glanced at the gazebo. Its pointed roof was topped with sparkling snow.

  “I joined the White Court with a purpose,” I said. “I plan to become more than just a Rook.”

  There. I’d said it. If he didn’t like me as a Rook, he would like me even less as a Knight, a Bishop, a Queen. It was best to relieve him of any wrong impressions he might have.

  “Oh,” was all he said.

  “I’m sorry this happened to you,” I said, turning around to face him again.

  His gaze lifted from the snow and met mine. He looked infinitely sad as if the last shred of hope he’d held on to had died. But why? And on my account?

  “All I wanted was to rescue my brother,” he said, his voice thick with feeling. “And now... I’m this.” He motioned toward his own face with disdain.

  The gesture hit me like a slap in the face. He hated himself for what he’d become. Logically, he must hate me, too. It shouldn’t have affected me so, but I felt my legs grow weak and my heart crumble to dust. Even the additional strength I had gained as a Rook did nothing to steady me.

  “It must have been terrible,” I said.

  Growing defensive, I raised my chin the way I’d done many times in the past when people of higher social stances had tried to put me down.

  “My... condolences on losing part of your humanity.” I walked forward as I prepared to leave. “I wanted to keep our appointment. I don’t like to leave anyone waiting. But I suppose our circumstances have changed, and we may not be in the best position to help each other.”

  Nyro grabbed my hand as I passed next to him. “Don’t leave,” he said.

  “It’s better if I go. Us, talking, it’s not a good idea.”

  His thumb caressed the top of my hand, sending heat up my arm. I blinked in surprise. Lately, I’d known mostly coldness, but his touch seemed to awaken something I’d thought lost.

  “Please. Stay,” he begged, searching deep into my eyes.

  I nodded, unable to resist him. Hand in hand, we crossed the small bridge that led over the pond toward the gazebo.

  CHAPTER 17

  Nyro was full of questions.

  He didn’t say it in so many words, but I could tell he’d been worried about me these past two weeks. He had feared they would decide I had broken my contract and would condemn me to death. Though perhaps my fate had been worse.

  We talked quietly, sitting in the gazebo while light snow fell around us. We should have been shivering, but we were both unaffected by the cold.

  As I related what had happened, he watched my face intently, his eyes falling to my lips a few times. More than once, I had to catch my breath as he appeared at the verge of kissing me, but then he seemed to think better of it.

  “Have you... seen Talyssa or your brother?” I asked.

  He averted his gaze and stared at the trees that lined the pond. “I saw my brother. King Maximus delights himself by bringing him to my challenges.”

  My breath caught. “He can’t possibly...”

  Nyro nodded.

  “He’s truly a monster. He deserves to die,” I said, my hatred for him redoubling as I thought of that innocent child in the Black King’s claws.

  I couldn’t get much more out of Nyro, though. He was tight-lipped, reluctant to talk about what had happened to him and more interested in hearing from me. For my part, I couldn’t help but answer his questions. My need to confide in someone was great, and his worried expression was an open invitation that I couldn’t refuse. So I told him everything that had happened after I’d pushed Neculai in front of the carriage, sparing no detail.

  “The Queen’s only Trove has died. He was her blood slave for fifteen years,” I said after I’d told him everything else.

  “Then he finally rests,” Nyro said with satisfaction as if it made him happy to imagine the Queen confined to darkness.

  “Lovina is angry,” I said, staring at my fingers. They were pale from the cold, even though I didn’t feel it. “She has threatened to put me in a pit of some kind if I don’t find another Trove to replace the one she’s lost. She’ll charge the Bishops with my torture.”

  Nyro interlaced his fingers with mine, concern etching his features. “That’s terrible, Bianca. She can’t do that.”

  “It’s inevitable,” I said, a sick resignation filling my chest. “I couldn’t possibly condemn anyone to the life of a blood slave—not when I feared it so much for myself. She could have discovered me up until the last moment. I was so afraid when I went to her. I thought she might be able to sense it in me, but the bloodshade did its work. And now, I don’t need it anymore. And even though I’m this, at least I don’t have to worry about becoming her blood slave. I’m not free, by any means.” I gave a wry laugh. “But I’m not anyone’s daily meal.”

  Nyro frowned, his expression and daring gaze suggesting that a million thoughts were crossing his mind. “You’re not a Trove anymore,” he said. It was a half question and half statement.

  I shook my head. “The Queen’s blood cured me,” I said dryly.

  “That means Timotei could...” he trailed off as he likely realized there was no way he could ever get enough vampire blood to cure his brother.

  There were only two vampires in Acedrex, and they were ancient and powerful. No one could forcefully take their blood. Maybe the Bishops could, but they were content with their posts. Besides, if they tried, it would be with the purpose of replacing the monarchs, not with the objectiv
e of saving Troves.

  “I’m starting to think there is no way to save my brother,” he said, sounding defeated. “Everything I do makes things worse.”

  “The only way is to kill Maximus,” I said hesitantly. “There is no escape.”

  My words could condemn me. Nyro was a member of the Black Court, bound by his contract to report subversive citizens and threats against his Board, but I suspected he wouldn’t betray me.

  He hated Maximus as much as I did.

  “He’s too powerful,” Nyro said. “He can’t be killed unless...”

  I nodded at the same time that my gaze bore deep into his. “I intend to kill him for what he did to me and my family. Once I’m Queen, I will be powerful enough to do it.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t possibly want to do that. Bianca, you would... become someone else.”

  “I’ve taken the first step. There’s no turning back,” I said, extricating my hand from his and glancing away.

  “There has to be another way,” he whispered.

  “You know there isn’t.”

  “Bianca.” He placed a finger under my chin and forced me to look him in the eye. “What if you lose yourself?”

  “It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I said. “I’m lost anyway. Only the thought of killing Maximus keeps me going.”

  “What about... me?” he asked, a bit of color rising to his cheeks. “I know it’s pretentious of me, but I...” He glanced down. “I’m sorry. It’s stupid. We are members of opposite Boards. There’s nothing—”

  I silenced him with a kiss. His breath caught, and he seemed frozen for an instant, but then his lips responded, tenderly brushing against mine. After an initial shy moment, he took my face in his hands and deepened the kiss. Tentatively, his tongue brushed my lower lip, sending a rush of heat down my body. I pulled back, my breath ragged.

  His tongue on my mouth! I had never...

  “I’m sorry I—” I silenced him again, my kiss more urgent this time.

  I wanted more of whatever he’d done. He seemed to understand, because his tongue darted out again and, this time, slipped into my mouth and brushed against mine. A thrill of desire shook me. Without thinking, I pulled him to his feet and pressed my body against his. I wanted him as close as I could get him. He pulled me closer, wrapping one hand around my waist and sliding the other one behind my neck.

  My own hands traveled from his stomach up to his solid chest, trying to feel him through his jacket, but it was too thick. The urge to rip it off him assaulted me. The thought should have scandalized me, but I didn’t care.

  I wanted him, wanted his body on top of mine, his hands on my naked skin.

  A loud bark echoed through the park. We pulled apart in an instant, unsure of what to do with our hands. A boy with his dog came running down the path, the kid throwing a stick for his pet to retrieve. A few yards behind him, a couple walked arm in arm, the boy’s parents, most likely.

  Nyro quickly removed his black cloak and jacket and set them on the bench. He was left in his white shirt.

  Sitting he said, “We shouldn’t be seen together. You should leave first. I will stay here until it’s safe to go.”

  I nodded, hating the hole that opened up inside of me at the thought of parting from Nyro. I started to leave but he grabbed my hand and stopped me.

  Next, he spoke slowly and reluctantly. “Mr. Oakes sells bloodshade to Troves, as you know, and some of them aren’t necessarily the best people in the city.”

  I gasped at the implications.

  “I would rather you be safe than them,” he hurried to add, then let go of my hand. “Go!”

  “Nyro,” I said in a hot breath. “I want to see you again.”

  He caught his lower lip between his teeth. “It’s not safe.”

  “Two weeks,” I hurried to say as the couple and their kid moved closer. “Flagfall House. Square B2. It will be safe.”

  CHAPTER 18

  As I neared the White Palace’s gate twenty minutes after leaving Nyro, I suddenly started trembling with cold. I hugged myself and walked through the gates, hunched over and shivering.

  “Anything the matter, Rook Flagfall,” one of the guards asked as I crossed the main gate.

  “No, I’m fine,” I said, teeth chattering. What was wrong? I’d almost been impervious to cold just moments ago and now...

  The guard appraised me with uncertainty but let me go without further questioning.

  Ten minutes later, I made it to the palace’s eastern door, practically staggering while my stomach twisted itself up in knots. I stopped. The world spun around me. I blinked at the door and slapped my face.

  Why am I here?

  It took me a moment to recall. I had a meeting with Knight Ferko. She’d said to be in the training room at four PM sharp, but I was late. Fifteen minutes late, but for what? I searched my addled mind, then remembered.

  My next feeding. My next taste of blood.

  At the thought, my chest clenched and my mouth went dry. I yanked the door open, stumbled into the hall, and stomped toward the training area. Knight Ferko was waiting in the middle of the long room, her arms crossed over her chest.

  “You’re late, Rook Flagfall,” she said, her angular features sharp and mean.

  I fell to my knees, pressing a fist against my stomach.

  “I’m... sorry,” I gasped, then took a huge gulp of air as if I were asphyxiating.

  “I thought I made it clear you should be here on time.” She struck a casual pose and examined her fingernails.

  “I... am... sorry,” I said again. “Please... help me.” I crawled on hands and knees and touched one of her boots with trembling fingers.

  In a corner of my mind, I was appalled at my behavior. I was on my knees, begging this awful creature for... for what? I shied away from the answer, and instead, told myself it wasn’t true. I would never do something so humiliating. It had to be a dream, one of those nonsensical nightmares that sometimes affected me.

  Knight Ferko chuckled. “Not so proud anymore, I see.”

  All at once, her amusement died, and she leaned forward and lifted me to my feet. Her grip on my arm was fierce, and I felt like a small child manhandled by an adult.

  “This way,” she said, pushing me toward the door, “before you do something stupid.”

  After staggering through several long corridors and practically crawling down a winding staircase, Ferko brought me to an arched wooden door with a heavy metal lock. She had a torch in her hand. I stared at it, wondering where and when she’d gotten it.

  “I’ll be back in an hour,” she said, placing a large key in the lock.

  As the door opened, a sweet scent wafted out of the door, curling under my nose like a finger trying to pull me forward. I staggered into the dark room, aided by a hefty push from the Knight.

  The door clanked shut behind me. The lock clicked, and Ferko’s retreating steps echoed outside.

  A scared whimper sounded in dark. I peered around as my eyes adjusted. After a few seconds, a huddled figure took shape in one corner. My mouth watered. I wiped a hand across my wet lips and swallowed.

  The space was dank, and a musty smell hung in the air, but it was overpowered by a sweet scent emanating from the figure—no, the person, I forced myself to acknowledge—cowering in the corner

  Pressing a fist to my mouth, I walked backward until my back hit the door

  No no no.

  I wouldn’t do this again. I was stronger than this foul desire, this... blood lust. I had killed before, but I hadn’t been aware of what I was doing. The Queen’s blood had been fresh in my veins. Of course, I hadn’t been able to resist.

  But now...

  My fists clenched. My entire body trembled with tension.

  “I... I won’t hurt you,” I said in a shaky voice.

  The whimpering stopped. A few sniffles followed, then there was silence. Without any sounds filtering through my ears, the scent of blood seemed to redoub
le. My veins pulsed sharply. My fingertips and gums ached and my tongue seemed to swell.

  With a growl, I clasped my hands to my temples and held my breath. When the ache in my lungs got unbearable, I inhaled sharply. The sweet scent hit me anew, more pungent than before, and it nearly brought me to my knees.

  I clenched my arms around my stomach, reining in the urge to attack.

  “Please, say something,” I begged. “I don’t want to hurt you.” My plea was desperate. Tears filled my eyes as the anguish of my inner struggle raked through my body. Without meaning to, I took a step forward as I focused on the victim Ferko had prepared for me.

  “My... my name is Bogdana,” a weak female voice whimpered in the dark. She sounded terrified, like a mewling kitten cornered with a rabid dog.

  “Bogdana,” I repeated numbly as the image of a young woman took shape in my mind.

  Tanned skin, light brown hair, narrow eyes that seemed to smile. I had known a lady’s maid by the name of Bogdana. This is who I imagined, and it helped.

  Feeling more in control, I took a step back and pressed my back to the door again. “I am Bianca,” I said, using my first name on purpose. It reminded me of who I had been before I lifted the Queen’s cup to my lips, of who I could be again if I remained strong. I would atone. I could live with this maddening pain if it meant never hurting anyone again. “How old are you, Bogdana?”

  “I’m... t-twenty-four, ma’am,” she said between loud breaths.

  Twenty-four. Only five years older than me. She had her whole life ahead of her. Why would Ferko pick someone like this? Not that it was right to pick someone older, but...

  “I’m nineteen,” I said, finding it easier to talk as a measure of calm returned to me.

  “I have a fa-family,” she added in a desperate tone. “A husband and a little girl. She’s only two. Her name is Elisabeta.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and faced the door, my palms flat against the wood. I was still trembling as if I were out in the bitter cold, but I felt more in control. Talking to her was helping.

  Gods! A little daughter. If I still held any doubt that Ferko was heartless, this erased all trace of it.