Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
Preview of DEAD TO BEGIN WITH, a holiday adventure with Kirill of the BLOOD PRINCE SERIES
About the Author
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Copyright
BEAUTIFUL SALVATION
Blood Prince Series: Book Five
"A princess under a curse. A blood-spilling earth god stripped of half his power. The longer the land goes without the power it needs, the more it will take to awaken the kingdom’s…Beautiful Salvation"
A princess with darkness inside her…
Aiyana’s dreams are filled with blood and death, her waking hours plagued by phantom cries for blood that seem to come from the earth itself. Fearing that she’s becoming a danger to her people, Aiyana determines to risk a bargain with a fairy to get rid of the frightening power inside her. If she can find the fairy. If she can get past the god she meets in the woods. If there wasn’t something about him that felt so…familiar.
A god reduced…
Saamal is a deity who has gone from being all-powerful to being forced to watch his land die. His only chance to save his kingdom is a marriage bond with the princess prophesied to return him to glory. The only obstacle? The princess has been cursed—trapped in a death-like state. When he is given a way to communicate with her, he has hope for the first time in decades. Unfortunately, the princess is horrified by his very nature and the future she envisions if she believes what he claims. The once all-powerful god must now do something he’s never had to do before…ask.
A marriage and a war…
When your real world is the Dream World, it’s difficult to know who’s telling the truth and who’s lying. A princess under a curse. A god stripped of half his power. The longer the land goes without the power it needs, the more it will take to awaken the kingdom’s…Beautiful Salvation.
Prologue
“You’re early.” Eurydice paused mid-stretch, pale brown arms reaching for the full moon, back arched against the nest of her branches rising behind her. She offered a small welcoming smile to the figure hovering between two oak saplings at the boundary of the thick forest surrounding her clearing. “I’ve been expecting you.”
Saamal, reduced god and prince of the kingdom of Mu, bowed slightly as he left the cover of the trees and entered the large, circular glen. The bare branches of the trees around him clicked against one another like the teeth of nervous forest sprites, drawing attention to the evidence that fall had arrived once again. Saamal was dressed in his customary black shirt and pants under a plain tunic the color of thick fog. Looking at him against the backdrop of leafless trees with their brittle branches reminded Eurydice of the prince’s precarious situation. She bit her lip, thinking of the sorry state of the god’s kingdom and the dim future in store for it if her efforts to help him were unsuccessful. For a moment she imagined she could see his mate, cursed into unnatural sleep, lying deep in the heart of a castle surrounded by dying briars tipped with ragged thorns. Even the brilliant silver light of the full moon couldn’t chase the shadows from the prince’s eyes, and no wonder.
“I hope my early arrival does not upset your plans?”
Eurydice kept her face impassive as she noted the stiffness of his shoulders, the strain outlined in the deep creases around his mouth and the dark shadows under his eyes. Saamal, quite unlike his future bride, was not sleeping. The stress was showing, a great red flag of the god’s failing health and depleted strength. It hurt to see him that way. Eurydice tried to keep her observations from showing on her face. “Quite the contrary. I choose to take your presence as a sign of your eagerness, a testament to your hope that I will be able to help you as I’ve told you I would.” She tried to infuse her voice with confidence, bordering on arrogance. Anything to force some hope into Saamal’s worry-lined face, to take some of the weight from his sagging shoulders.
Something flickered in Saamal’s eyes, a shadow amongst shadows. “Hope. Such a dangerous word.”
“Not dangerous, Saamal, never dangerous. Hope is a wonderful thing.”
“Nothing has changed, Eurydice. There is no reason to believe now will be any different.”
“Saamal, I more than anyone know what it’s like to know who you are destined to be with and yet be helpless to get to them.” Pain blossomed in Eurydice’s heart, images of her husband dancing behind her eyes, her ears echoing with the haunting memory of his sweet song. Tears threatened, but she forced them back. She set her jaw and pressed her lips together, drawing on all of her hope, all of the determination that had gotten her this far. She let it show in the set of her shoulders, the unwavering manner in which she met the eyes of the god before her. “I died Saamal. He died. The maenads proclaimed that we would never again be together in this world, even death would not unite us again because no world—”
Eurydice closed her mouth, ceasing the ramble of her thoughts aching to pour from her mouth. Now was not the time for her story. Her story was not yet over, not yet ready to close. Not until all the pieces came together. Her body trembled, empty branches swaying and clacking against one another, and she fought to keep the gruesome memories from overwhelming her. I’m almost there, almost there. Keep it together, Eurydice. “I know what it’s like to be faced with a hopeless situation. But I did not give in. And I did not give up. I couldn’t have him in this world so I’m making a new one.” Saying the words out loud set her heart to hammering ferociously against the wall of her chest, a painful battering. Everything was nearly in place, she could say it now. She swallowed hard and met Saamal’s eyes. “Look me in the eye and tell me your situation is more hopeless than my own.”
A gust of wind tousled Saamal’s dark hair, making the shadows on his face dance. He held her gaze and there was a depth to the darkness in his eyes that went beyond color. It was like peering into twin pits, bottomless and empty. No light, no spark…no hope. “I am immortal, Eurydice. It has been a hundred years already. I know you have a plan, that you are working on attaining something important—this ‘new world.’ But I dare say you know my own prophecy as well as I, and you and I both know it could be centuries more until I am worthy enough.”
Eurydice parted her lips to speak, but was interrupted by a new arrival.
“Centuries? No, I’m sorry, my friend, but that is unacceptable.”
Kirill’s voice drew Eurydice’s attention to the other side of the clearing. Kirill, silent as a panther and almost completely obscured by his ever present cape of many dangers, stepped into the clearing. His eyes glinted like pools of red wine in the moonlight, glittering in the darkness. The vampire prince of Dacia’s white-blond hair glowed as it fell like a guillotine in sharp, unforgiving lines down his neck to his shoulders.
“We have been progressing at a very nice pace thus far,” Kirill continued, advancing farther into the glen. “I see no reason your marriage cannot be arranged in the same expedient manner.”
“Ever the romantic, eh, Kirill?” came a teasing, velvety voice.
Adonis glided down from the night sky and landed in a pool of onyx leather wings, clawed hands kissing the earth as he settled on the ground. A flash of skin on his back revealed the plunging cut to his white tunic, the lack of fabric compensated for by the crimson cloak falling between his wings, attached at either shoulder with a burnished gold clasp. The demon prince of Ny
sa’s hazel eyes glittered as he tilted his horned head at the vampire. “You’ve been married to Irina for, what, four seasons now? I can’t believe having a rusalka for a wife hasn’t had more of an effect on your people skills.”
Kirill’s cloak twitched as though he were fingering one of the weapons he no doubt had hidden beneath its heavy folds. “Anyone’s people skills would be found wanting in comparison to those of an incubus, my dear Adonis.”
“Too true, too true.” A shadow passed over them as something soared overhead and Adonis flinched down and arched his wings, peering out from the shelter of bone and leather. “Oh good, Chuckles is here.”
The beating of giant feathered wings on the wind heralded the arrival of Prince Patricio. The seven foot giant landed with a muffled thud next to the crouching demon, blond hair wind-whipped and wild as it brushed his shoulders. Eurydice leaned closer to the angel, intrigued to see that he was not wearing his customary white robes, but rather an azure toga that would have let him blend in with the brilliant sky earlier that day. It matched his eyes perfectly, making them a breathtaking sapphire blue even with only the moonlight to illuminate them. The prince of Meropis tilted his head down at the crouching incubus, his face blank of emotion.
At least he hasn’t drawn his sword. The weapon in question shone dully in the light of the moon, the blade the width of a hand, with a solid, unadorned hilt that rested comfortably in the angel’s large palm. Its composition was a mystery to Eurydice, but something in it made her skin tingle with trepidation. It was a simple sword, absent of any ornamentation or fancy etching. It was an instrument of justice, of violence. No decoration was needed. Eurydice leaned away from him, clenching and unclenching her fists as she remembered the agony of the massive weapon’s bite a few moons ago. The angel and the demon had allowed their bickering to go too far and it had been she who’d paid the price, she who’d ended up with that sword buried in her trunk. That will not happen again. She crossed her arms and waited to see what the mercurial angel would do.
Patricio inclined his head in the demon’s direction, burnished gold hair brushing over his shoulders with the movement. “Marcela says hello.”
Adonis’ wings twitched slightly then he lowered them to bare the top half of his face so he could better see the angel. He blinked at Patricio’s mention of his wife. “Oh? Well…tell her I said hello as well.”
Patricio inclined his head once in acknowledgement and faced Eurydice. His brow furrowed slightly and Eurydice realized her lips were parted in shock. She knew Adonis had played a small part in pushing Patricio and Marcela together, but she hadn’t expected it to have such an…immediate effect on their tempestuous relationship. She snapped her mouth closed and cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. “Greetings, Patricio. I’m told you had quite a bit of excitement with your maid of the sea. How is Marcela doing?”
A rare spark lit Patricio’s eyes and a hint of laugh lines creased the skin around his mouth. “She’s well, thank you.”
The stress on the words “thank you,” and the solemn tone that echoed in the angel’s voice went straight to Eurydice’s heart. She blinked, trying to keep herself from crying all over again from the sheer happiness at seeing Patricio finally opening his heart, and at seeing someone else finally open theirs to him.
Saamal cleared his throat. “While I appreciate your…desire to proceed in a timely fashion, Kirill, I’m afraid I have little control over the situation. It’s not that I haven’t been trying for the last century, I have simply been…failing.”
The heated tone of Saamal’s voice alerted Eurydice to the god’s rising temper, the toll his frustration was taking on him. Guilt ate at her as she realized she’d forgotten about the god amidst the excitement of the other princes’ arrivals.
“What is the situation?” a gruff voice demanded.
Etienne, prince of Sanguenay, ambled into the clearing, still in the process of fastening his pants. His broad, tanned chest was bare as usual, and his brown hair was still tousled from his recent shift from wolf form, a dried leaf or two sticking in the chocolate brown strands. He finished dressing as he came to stand with the group, then raised his chocolate brown eyes to Eurydice. “My apologies for being late. One of the pups took off with my bag and it took me longer than it should have to catch him.”
“Apparently, you were a little too late,” Adonis observed, pointing to a tear in the leg of his pants. “Your pup chewed through the bag.”
Etienne followed Adonis’ gesture and scowled at the jagged hole in his earth-toned clothing. “The tailor’s going to have a fit. He’s already in a snit over Loupe letting the wolves chew on the edges of her gown as they please.”
“The werewolf asked a very astute question prior to being dragged off on a tangent by our resident demon,” Kirill broke in pointedly. He fastened his intense attention on Saamal. “I believe you were about to enlighten us as to your situation?”
“As I told you, it was over a century ago.” Saamal gazed off into the distance. “I was…a different person then. A prophecy came to my attention that a child had been born who would grow up to be my wife. The prophecy declared that she would double my power and divert me from the dark path I was on. I was the most powerful god in the kingdom, but the promise of more power immediately caught my interest. More power for me meant more control, more potential to help my people. I decided to attend the child’s naming ceremony to get an impression of the female who would become my bride.”
“What did you think of the bit about diverting you from your dark path?” Adonis drummed his claws on the ground as he peered up at the god. His eyes flickered with specks of scarlet. “How dark was your path?”
The lines around Saamal’s eyes tightened. “I did what was necessary for my people to keep them strong. I—” The words died on his tongue and he closed his mouth abruptly, averting his eyes. He remained still for the span of several moments, body as stiff as a statue. “I ignored that part.” His voice was reserved, a hushed confession in the isolated glen. He paused, giving those around him time to form their own conclusions.
Eurydice glanced around at the princes, searching their faces. Kirill’s face was as expressive as granite, chiseled white features guarding his thoughts as surely as Cerberus guarded Hades. By sharp contrast, Etienne’s face was an open book, suspicion etched in the creases around his severe mouth, the golden glint in his brown eyes. Adonis was guileless as ever, not a trace of judgment to be found, just blatant curiosity in the way he leaned closer to Saamal, his wings settled like a blanket over his back. Patricio stood like a silent sentinel, sword at his hip. He waited like a judge hearing evidence, calm and distant, but inwardly preparing to do whatever might be necessary once all the facts had been revealed.
Eurydice took a deep, slow breath. She had saved Saamal for last for good reason. It had been her hope that the princes would bond, that loyalty would grow, alliances would be forged. She’d seen evidence of this already, perhaps most obvious in Kirill’s clear desire to teach Adonis to be less…carefree, and more strategic, more prince-like. And then there’d been the way they’d all come together to save Irina…
Still, Saamal had the most gruesome past of any of them. Indeed, his kingdom had had a grisly beginning, and continued to stay closer to the flesh and blood of creation’s beginning than most kingdoms. It was time for the others to learn more of the kingdom of Mu, and she only hoped that they would be as willing to help the god then as they had been when the night started.
“I was not the only deity to show up,” Saamal continued, not making eye contact with his audience. “Chumana, a lover I had taken in the past, had shown up as well. She was…not pleased with my reason for being there. She laid a curse on the child, condemning her to die on the day she reached the age for marriage.”
“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned for an infant.” Adonis’ voice lacked its usual humor, coming out more of a grim observation than a joke.
Saamal’
s eyes went dead, becoming the bottomless pits Eurydice had glimpsed earlier. The air crackled with unease, and she could feel it gripping her branches, embittering the wind. Saamal was no longer at full strength, he couldn’t bring the skies bearing down on them with all the fury of a winter storm, but he was still a god. It would be best if he remained calm and clear-headed. Easy, Saamal.
Thankfully, the god merely flexed his hands and went on with his story. “It is a custom in my culture for each of the balam to grant a royal child with a gift—a blessing if you will. One of them arrived late, and had not yet given her blessing at the time Chumana laid her curse on the child. Although a fairy does not have the power to curb the curse of a goddess, I was able to further empower her blessing by giving up some of my own power to fuel her magic. The balam acted as a conduit and guided my power, and together we changed the outcome of Chumana’s curse. My future bride, Aiyana, would not die, but merely sleep.”
“But you haven’t been able to wake her up.” Adonis shoved himself into a sitting position, raising his wings behind him to keep from crushing them. He crouched like a gargoyle on a church, face pinched with thought.
The sharp smell of the air preceding a storm flooded the clearing as Saamal clenched his hands into fists. “She has slept for the last hundred years. I have sought out seers to discover how I might wake her up, but only one has had an answer. ‘It is the kiss of Death that will wake Aiyana.’”
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