by Darcy Sweet
As the waves subsided I opened my eyes, first looking down to watch his lapping tongue clean my bitten mound and then up to gaze blurry eyed across the room. Through the fog of pleasure a flash of silver caught my eye. Shocked, I opened my eyes wide and focused. He was here. Against the wall. Body slumped in a deceptively easy pose he watched me, but his eyes, his eyes burned black and silver. Hot and angry. I gasped.
At the sound Roth released me, I fell back against rough hands. I knew at once they were Hatha’s, her spiteful voice murmured in my ear, “You should have just knelt.” I struggled out of her grasp. I pulled my chemise down, not that it covered much. My hands shook.
The sister who had been at The Choosing came forward; she bowed low and then reached up to kiss Roth, first on each cheek and finally deep on the mouth. I watched her tongue sweep across the seam of his lips, licking at the remnants of my blood.
Roth laughed at the moan she gave at my taste and pushed her away gently, “Astrid,” he chastised without any heat in his voice, “that’s enough.”
“Yes my Prince,” Astrid said without contrition, bowing once more.
He swept a heated gaze across the assembled crowd. With deliberate slowness he met each face. It came to me as I watched him what Hatha’s poisoned murmur had meant. Triumph shone in his eyes as did a challenge, see, this is mine it seemed to say. For all my protestations at not wanting to kneel I had done it anyway. My submission riding his face like a wanton was far more complete than if I had knelt and kissed his feet.
Shame coursed through me at my weakness. I hung my head and closed my eyes as Hatha’s soft laugh echoed from behind. My realization had not gone unnoticed by the malicious crone.
After he had completed his triumphant viewing of the assembled group Roth turned back to me. He held out his arm and this time I did not protest, I took the offered hand. He pulled me close, his arm clasping tight around my waist.
“My Prince, what news?” The brother of Astrid, the one who had been at my Choosing asked of the Prince after an elaborate bow.
“Outlying unrest continues,” he said quietly, scanning the room as if concerned who was listening, “now is not the time Valco. We’ll discuss this later.”
“We did not expect you for some time Sire,” Astrid said, “until the Claiming. Did Queen Beatrix call you back?”
“Yes,” Roth answered, first looking pointedly at me and then back at both siblings, “Again we shall discuss this later.”
He did not wish to speak in front of me. It was obvious and humiliating. I was to be fed information in child sized bites. Not to be trusted, like an infant or a servant. I opened my mouth to speak but saw Hatha shake her head and mouth an angry, “No!”
Questions I had not even the right to ask burned within me. What was the Claiming he spoke of? Was Roth to claim a wife? If so then what would become of me?
If under the evil eye of Hatha I would not have the opportunity to ask I decided to gather information the best way I knew how. I pretended passive disinterest in their conversation. It took some time for Hatha and the others to forget I was there. They spoke of trivial social gossip, scandals of names I did not know. People came forward to be presented to the Dark Prince. Curiosity itched within me but I did not even make eye contact. I stayed snuggled into Roth’s side as if simply content with him.
I knew when I heard Roth dismiss Hatha that the time had come to listen.
They spoke of regions of Vandarra I had not heard of, newly acquired provinces that were under marshal rule. Roth was unhappy with the unrest; while he did not speak poorly of the Queen it was clear that he was concerned with the current direction of the Crown.
Their conversation was political and complex. I had some difficulty following and after a while my disinterest was no longer practiced but real. I was bored. None of it seemed to pertain to me or The Claiming they had spoken of until Valco said, “I should warn you Sire that there has been some talk of The Vessel.”
I did not know what Valco spoke of but I realized it was important when Roth jerked to attention. He tensed and brought me tight against his body. Perhaps I would have dismissed the comment as yet another political thing I did not understand if they had not all turned their eyes to me.
The look was brief, but it was loaded. The Vessel had something to do with me. I was sure of it.
“Who?” Roth asked, his voice low and vibrating with dark emotion.
“Lord Malchard.”
I knew that name. He was Queen Beatrix’ Chosen advisor. I had heard my uncle mention him.
“I do not believe they know much yet but they are asking,” Valco said, leaning in closer.
“I will see what I can find out. We will meet at the usual time.” Roth released me, his arm sliding from my waist. He brought my hand up to his lips but did not meet my eyes. Astrid and Valco bowed low as he departed.
I felt the loss of his touch like a physical blow. My chest hurt, I was momentarily winded. Astrid took my arm as if she knew what I was feeling, I looked up at her in question. “The Master has things to attend to. You will stay with me.”
If I had been able to breathe easily I would have protested. Why did it hurt so that he left?
“Beatrix wants The Vessel,” Astrid whispered to her brother.
“Not Beatrix. Malchard.”
“He is mere Chosen. He cannot take from The Vessel…”
“But Beatrix can,” Valco interrupted his sister, “And Malchard controls Beatrix. We know that Astrid.”
With Roth gone and me so obviously dazed Astrid and Valco were no longer so circumspect in their conversation. I remained limp in Astrid’s arms even after the pain of Roth’s loss had subsided.
“Is he sure that she is…”
Valco reached out and clamped his hand across his sister’s mouth. He smiled but it was all for show, there was no humor in his voice. “Do not question him sister. And…” he gave a pointed look at me before finishing his sentence, “watch your words.”
He slipped his hand from Astrid’s mouth and stroked his fingers across my cheek. The touch revolted me. His eyes rimmed black as he spoke, “Aaah, Mistress Chosen. What I would do for just a little taste.”
Astrid chuckled, the sound vibrated against my side where she held me tight to her body. “The time will come brother. Be patient.”
Valco leaned in and breathed deep into my hair. I flinched. He laughed. I did not want his touch. Astrid spoke of him tasting me as if it were preordained. Was that at Roth’s order? Was I to service his followers? Anger ripped through me, flashing hot under my skin.
Astrid released me so she could lean in and clasp her brother. He kissed her deeply, more deeply than I thought a brother should. She stroked a hand over his hair and said softly, “Be careful my brother. I will see you at the meeting.”
Valco nodded. “At the break of dawn.”
After Valco had gone Astrid turned to me. “Mistress Chosen you must be parched.” She raised a hand and in moments a servant appeared with a goblet. I took it from the server brought it to my lips but did not drink. I did not trust her. Trust anyone.
Except…
As I pretended to drink I searched the room for him. He had moved from the wall. He was standing with a woman, his arm around her waist. I hated her touching him. What right did I have to that feeling?
He met my eyes. A silver brow raised. I noticed then how he stood out from the others. How his silver hair shone bright amongst the shades of black.
“Who is that?” I asked Astrid, confident that she would just think I had noticed the difference.
Astrid sneered, “That is of no consequence.”
“Who is he? Is he a Master?”
“He thinks he is. He’s half-caste. A pretender.”
“Half?” I wanted to know more but Astrid raised her hand and I knew she would share no more. I gripped the wine goblet. It sloshed in my hand. Spilling red wine on my hand, staining the skin red.
The Silver Master a
pproached. My heart kicked like it had for Roth. A dark seductive tug as if he’d leashed me and pulled hard. What was this connection? The first time I felt the pull I figured it was because he was a Master, but here now I was in a room full of Masters. None of them pulled at me like Roth or Silver Master.
“Astrid,” his dark honey voice made me want to taste him.
“Nadar,” she sneered in return.
I could not help the smile.
I knew his name.
Finally.
“Nadar,” I laughed softly and they both turned to me. Affection in his eyes, questions in her.
“Roth’s Chosen,” he said, bowing low, “I am honored to meet you.”
“And I you Nadar,” I said offering him my hand. Still bent in a bow he took my offered hand, turned it over, pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist. I shuddered as he flicked his tongue across my pulse point.
Astrid grasped my elbow and pulled my hand from him. “That’s enough Nadar,” she hissed, “It is time for her to leave.” Astrid turned away and bellowed, “Hatha!” In the moment she was turned I leaned into him and whispered, “What is The Vessel?” His eyes widened at the question. Before he could answer Hatha was at my side, taking my arm from Astrid.
I still gripped the near full wine goblet. Nadar eased it from my clenched fingers. He turned it in his hand, rotating the goblet he brought it up to his mouth. He did not drink as I expected. Instead he breathed deep inhaling the bouquet. His eyes faded to black and he deliberately licked the rim where my mouth had been.
The sight shot hot pleasure to my core. I wanted that mouth on me.
Hatha pulled on my arm. I resisted, stumbled and fell to my knees. Nadar was the first to help me up, “Read The Key,” he murmured in my ear.
The Key. The book I had thrown under my bed.
I had forgotten. I would read The Key. Find The Vessel. Find my own answers.
Chapter 4
I took special notice on the return trip from Roth’s chambers to my own. I was careful to note and remember the direction as I had already decided to return for the dawn meeting. It would be in Roth’s chambers I was sure and I intended with the help of Nadar’s ink markings and whatever lay within The Key to conceal myself and hear the truths I knew had been hidden from me.
Hatha dragged at my elbow. The woman did not like me. I did not know why and I did not particularly care. The feeling was mutual. After one vicious tug too many I broke free of her grasp.
“You hurt me servant.”
She paused, eyes flashing with anger. “Sorry, Mistress,” she lied after averting her eyes.
“As well you should be,” I said in anger.
I held out my arm for her to take. She did so, lightly resting her fingers at my elbow to guide me. We walked at an easy pace, both of us masking our seething anger and frustration behind our calm façade. I knew from whence mine came but I did not understand hers. Why did she resent me?
When we were back at my chambers I dismissed her early. “I can undress myself Hatha. You may go.”
She paused at the door. I waited for her to protest but she did not. Instead she sighed and said softly, “As you wish Mistress.”
She looked tired. Defeated. I did not care.
It was a struggle but I twisted the bindings of the corset to the front and unlaced myself. The chemise came off easily. It was but a mere slip. I used it to wipe clean my face. No doubt destroying the expensive fabric but I did not care. I had no wish to ever wear it again. I looked down at the painted smears on the black and silver.
Black and Silver
Roth and Nadar.
A red smear on the black made me think of Nadar’s blood stained lips. Of Roth’s. I ached for their bites. Both bites. At once.
Confusion and lust ripped through me. The feelings overwhelming. My chest hurt and my sex throbbed.
Answers. I needed answers.
I went down on my knees to reach under the bed. The book was wedged right at the back near the wall. I had to scoot on my belly across the cold stone floor. I cursed my impatience, wishing I had dressed before this task. I was shivering when I came out from under the bed. I forwent my nightdress and instead wrapped myself in the heavy blanket of my bedding. I crossed my legs and shifted on my buttocks closer to the candle on my bedside. By the light of the flickering flame I opened the heavy leather bound book.
The pages were vellum, gilt edged. Beautiful and fine. I first looked at the chapter listing and then flicked to the back of the book in search of an index. I ran my finger down the alphabetical listing searching for any mention of The Vessel. There was one listing, anticipation thrummed in my veins as I opened up to the page.
I skimmed the words, seeking out the relevant information amongst the flowery prose. Whomever partakes of The Vessel shall have the power of influence. Extended life and strength. The Vessel is from the Sarran Coven. She is a Sarran witch.
I knew of Sarran Witches. We were warned of their power. My Uncle had once threatened to send me to them for punishment. He had shown me a parchment picture of a Sarran witch. A hideous Crone, her pock marked skin lined with strange symbols. My heart raced. I read on, my eyes flicking across the words;
In times past The Vessel served as an adviser to the Vandarran Crown…Misuse of the Sarran and fear of their power lead to a purge of The Covens…Few Covens remain…hiding from Vandarran Masters.
Misuse. How had The Vessel been misused?
The power of The Vessel lays within her, but can be harnessed if she is freely Claimed by one. Once Claimed her power can be drained by the direction of that Master alone. The Master of The Vessel has great power, strength, longevity and influence. The Vessel is in his total control.
Claimed. Roth wanted to Claim me. He thought I was The Vessel.
Even as I read the words—rebelled at the idea of being Claimed and drained—I wanted it. I wanted Roth.
Nausea rolled through me. I dropped the book and my blanket. I barely made it to the bathing chamber before I emptied my stomach. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth and took a drink from the water jug that sat atop the small bathing chamber armoire. Even after my mouth had been rinsed the bitter taste remained. It was the taste of betrayal. Roth had betrayed me. Used me.
Nadar had to know. That was why he refused to take me. Why he had not bitten me as Roth had.
I stood up. Using the remaining water from the jug I washed my body. With the freezing water I did all that I could to scrub the residue of Roth’s betrayal from my skin. Once clean I dressed. Dark blue was the closest I had to black. It would have to do. I was not concerned about the humans. I knew the symbols would protect me. I wanted a dark shade to hide from the sight of any Master.
If I was The Vessel I needed to know what Roth and Lord Malchard wanted from me. The only place I could learn that was at the dawn meeting. I could only hope that it was at Roth’s chambers.
It was not yet near dawn but I decided to go now. I reasoned that his chambers would be now empty of his guests and that he had not yet returned. I knew I could bewitch my guards and I hoped the symbols would do the same to the four that guarded Roth’s chambers.
When I reached Roth’s chamber I was relieved to see that the four guards had been whittled down to two. I was more confident of being able to bewitch two than four. I raised my forearm to the guards. “Is the chamber empty?” I asked.
“Yes,” came their dull monotone answer.
“Hide me inside where they hold their meetings.”
They had not yet opened the red lacquer doors when I felt a hand at my wrist. Heart thumping, I turned to see who it was.
Hatha.
I raised my arm and pointed the Sarran symbols at her, barking out the order, “Go back to your chambers. You did not see me.”
She laughed. A bitter sound. “That magic has been worked on me by much stronger than you whelp,” she hissed.
“Who?” I asked.
Misery crossed her face at my q
uestion. Sorrow hung heavy in her eyes. She did not answer me. She just shook her head and tightened her grip on my arm. The guards did nothing. Still locked in their magic induced haze they stood still and silent.
I tried to wrench free. “I need to know Hatha. Let me go. I need to know!”
“Know? What? Knowing will change nothing.”
“It will change me,” I said, my voice beginning to break, weary sorrow tightening my throat.
She softened, and for the first time I saw a flicker of compassion in her hard gaze. She released my arm and brought her hand up to cup my chin. “It won’t change the fact that you have been Chosen by the Dark Prince. You must accept it. It is the only way. She fought. It did her no good. It broke her heart. Broke mine too.”
“Who? Who do you speak of?”
Hatha did not answer me. Out of the darkness came his dark honeyed tone and a flash of silver. “My mother,” he said.
Nadar.
I turned to where he still stood, bathed in half shadow. “Your mother was Chosen?” I asked him as Hatha tugged on my arm trying to pull me away.
He came forward into the light. “More than Chosen. She was The Vessel. The last Vandarran Vessel.”
Hatha let me go and I stepped closer to him. “What is The Vessel?”
“A power source from the Sarran Coven. The balance of power. Her blood gives strength, longevity and powerful magic to any Dark Master that partakes.”
“And if she is Claimed?”
His gaze dropped from mine. “If she is claimed that power goes only to the Master that Claims her. He holds the power and distributes it at his pleasure.”