Blood Prince: A Standalone Fantasy Romance

by Celia Aaron

  The demon nobles laughed, their evil erupting throughout the airy chamber and echoing away until it resembled a dirge.

  I closed my eyes. I couldn’t bear to see Leda’s face, to watch my mother’s resolve crumple with my own.

  The word slipped from me like water from a tilted cup. “Stop.”

  “I’m sorry, my wife, I didn’t quite hear you.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

  “I said that I will consent.” My voice was shaking, the knowledge of what I’d just given up too much to bear. Opening my eyes, I met the stark gaze of my mother.

  “No!” Leda cried and fell to her hands, finally released by her demon captors.

  I rushed to her. “I’m sorry, Mother. I can’t let you hurt anymore for me. I can’t bear it. Please forgive me for my weakness.”

  Leda wailed and took me in her bloodied arms. Acid shredded my heart, my throat. Like Leda, I knew the deal would seal my fate. Fate. The pain of what I’d lost and what I would soon suffer overcame my voice, my soul. I was eclipsed by my doom.

  “He will never stop hurting you,” Leda whispered through her tears. “He will never stop. Never.”

  “I can’t let anyone else suffer because of me.” I glanced at my brothers, their deaths for nothing, no one. The weight of their sacrifice broke me. They thought they could save me, but I wasn’t going to be me anymore. Not after this.

  “Now, my queen, prepare yourself.” Menelaus tore me from Leda’s arms and dragged me behind the dais. Leda screamed my name, and I knew that sound would never leave my mind. Just like the dead faces of my brothers, it would be there, lingering, forever.

  Menelaus threw me down before his witch, an immortal who had no equal in the realm of binding and dispelling magics. She wore a robe of the deepest crimson, her dark hair coiled like snakes around her head. Already a fire burned next to the beady-eyed witch, the souls of the damned present in the flames.

  “My queen is ready and has agreed to allow you to bind her. But only such that she cannot harm me. Do you understand?” Menelaus gripped the witch’s robes, drawing her face to his. She did not flinch before his menace, but her fangs extended, sharp and lethal. “You will not disturb her powers any further than that. If you do, your life is mine.”

  He dropped the witch and glared at me. “Don’t think you can get away with harming those around me. I’ll keep your mother here for my amusement. If you try your magic on any of my servants or warriors—or even yourself—she will pay the price a hundredfold.”

  He knelt beside me, coming as close as he dared while my magic still shimmered around us. “And after this, there will be nothing to stop me from claiming you.” He ran a finger along my cheek, smiling as he felt my tears.

  I would never escape from the despair that took hold in my breast. Never again have a joyful or pleasant thought or feeling. I was trapped, undone by the curse of my abilities.

  “And my payment?” the witch hissed.

  “Do this, and I guarantee you will reign among your people as the most powerful, most feared leader they have ever seen.” Menelaus tipped his head slightly. “Queen Desmerada.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Elena

  Zirga landed at the edge of the Darkwood in the late afternoon. I slid down from the pegasus and almost crumpled before Paris caught my arm. The flight had left my legs wobbly. He steadied me before leading Zirga to the stream we had landed next to, allowing the pegasus to drink only after he tasted the water for enchantments or poison.

  I stretched, unknotting the muscles that had tightened during our hours-long ride, and eyed the edges of the Darkwood. It lived up to its name, the branches gnarled and twisting, absorbing and distorting the light of the three suns. Black roots reached out through and over the ground as if seeking to overtake more of the sunny plain. The vast grassland we’d flown over seemed devoid of settlement. To our left were the remains of a rutted road that led into the wood. It was covered with leaves and vegetation, clearly having long been in a state of disuse.

  After Zirga drank her fill, Paris spoke to her, his voice low. Before long, Zirga approached and nuzzled me. I stroked her soft mane, marveling at the midnight strands of fine hair.

  “Thank you,” I said, and meant it. Without Zirga, I would have already been back in Menelaus’s grasp. I shuddered at the thought.

  Zirga watched me with an intelligent gaze before slightly bowing in response. Then she turned, took off at a gallop, and launched into the violet sky, heading back the way they’d come. Her wings glinted in the suns, sending prisms of light down along the ground.

  “Doesn’t she need a rest?”

  “Zirga owns these skies and could sail through them all day.” Paris watched the creature meld into the firmament, gone beyond their sight. Wrinkles of worry marred his brow. “I sent her back for Daphne.”

  I touched his arm. “She’ll be okay. I only knew her for a short time, but I could already tell she could take care of herself. She reminded me of my sister Iphi, quick-witted and always up for some mischief.”

  “She’s tough. And smart.” Paris still stared back toward Pyli. “Even so, no one could stand against the demon horde.”

  “She won’t have to. She’s long gone from the horde, safe and warm somewhere.” I didn’t know if I was trying to convince Paris or myself. Either way, I had to believe Daphne got away. Leaving a friend behind chafed, even if that friend ran faster than any demon ever could.

  Paris gazed into the looming trees and along the unused road. A chill wind blew at our backs as if pushing us into the milky fog that swirled in the woods. I knelt and started combining various ingredients from my pack, making quick and dirty magic bombs.

  Pausing, I followed his gaze along the road. “Does it lead to the Bloodkeep?”

  “It must.” His brow was furrowed, worry etched on his handsome face. “The Bloodkeep used to be a center for trade and arts, the beating heart of the Underworld. Now, the vampires are subjugated to Desmerada’s will. They don’t like visitors. Neither does the Darkwood.”

  I peered into the opaque wood. “We should stick close to the road but not stay on it. We set out now, break when we tire, and keep going until we get within striking distance. We have to make it to the keep as soon as possible. Then, we’ll figure out how to take it.”

  Paris looked at me like I’d just told him we intended to storm the Citadel of Olympus and spit in Zeus’s eye. “The Bloodkeep is fifty miles away in the middle of the wood, surrounded by an immense wall constantly manned by hundreds of vampire guards loyal to Desmerada. Not to mention what lurks in the woods themselves. We may not even make it a mile in.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Okay, so what’s your plan?”

  His face turned to stone, but turmoil was in his eyes. “Your plan is suicide. I will not let Desmerada kill you, and I will not hand you over to Menelaus. Never.”

  “I agree. But if we stay here, we die. If we go back, we die. If we go in”—she gestured to the foreboding trees—“at least we have the semblance of a chance.”

  “And then what?”

  “And then we reclaim what’s yours—the Bloodkeep.”

  He barked out a harsh laugh and spun away from me, setting his shoulders into a wall of refusal. I would never have allowed my warriors to turn their backs on me like this, never have suffered them to question my command. This was different. He’d been bent on protecting me from the moment we met. But that wasn’t who I was. My world was built on fighting and more than that, winning.

  Was my plan rash? Sure. Did I have the details hammered out? Not remotely. But was it the best option? Definitely.

  I had to convince him that this way—the way fraught with blood and battle—was the only way to save us both.

  I took a deep breath. “Remember when you told me of your Helen, of how she could make a battle plan in her mind and see the steps to win before ever even setting foot on the field?”

  He cocked his head slightly toward me,
though his stance remained hard.

  “Well, if I’m this same Helen, the one you knew and worshipped, why would you think I can’t do the same? I am a warrior of the gods now, Paris. If anything, I’d wager my skills have grown, not withered. And with a vampire army at my back, nothing could stop us from taking out Menelaus and ending the war between vampires and demons for good.”

  His shoulders softened, but he did not turn, still regarding the stream that escaped the heart of the Darkwood and meandered into the grasslands.

  I needed him to know, needed him to believe in me, though I’d never been one for grand speeches before battle. Instead of trying to rally him, I spoke to our bond. The one I knew bridged the distance between us, though I had no memory of how or when it was forged. But it was certain, as sure as the love I had for my sisters. I could feel it living inside me.

  I moved closer, then reached out with tentative fingers and rested my palm on his shoulder. “Remember what you said back in Pyli? ‘Trust me,’ you said. Now I’m asking you to do the same.”

  He turned to me and drew me into his arms, kissing me with that passion, that desire that burned me.

  Gods, how could he melt me like this?

  After he’d staked his claim on my lips, my soul, he separated from me, but only by a breath. “I can’t lose you again.”

  “You won’t.” I kissed him, matching fire with fire, after making a promise only the Fates knew if I could keep.

  The forest was a misty maze. Branches brushed at my hair like skeletal hands, and the ground was a tangled mass of roots and debris. Staying off the road was the safest course, but it made our trek even more slow going.

  The Darkwood was eerily silent. It should have been alive with birdsong and animals, but only the clack and creak of branches in the wind broke the stillness. The fog was so dense that we stayed within arm’s length. If we were to get separated, there was no way we’d find each other again. Keeping to the edges of the ancient road, we forged farther and farther into the darkness that permeated the wood. The fading suns only increased the gloom.

  I was becoming accustomed to the muffled silence, seeking through it for any sounds that could signal danger. There were none I could detect, just the occasional whistle of wind, the groan of branches, and the thud and crunch of our footsteps.

  Glancing at Paris from the corner of my eye, I saw he was on edge, rigid as he walked. His eyes constantly scanned the mist before us as it eddied around the wizened branches. He’d drawn a dagger when we’d first stepped under the canopy of trees and carried it now. I ghosted my fingers over the hilt of the Olympian blade at my side. I had magic and metal, two powerful allies.

  Night was falling, the darkness slowly becoming all-encompassing as the mist formed a wall around us. We continued on, hoping to find more hospitable terrain to make camp for the evening. The roots were so thick here that every step was treacherous.

  “There’s something in the mist.” His voice was low, carrying only to my ears and no farther. We both stopped, straining our senses into the space around us.

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. He was right. Something was there, hidden in the milky-white hedge. It watched us and slowly circled. We turned along with the creature, sensing it trying to move to our flank. I summoned blue orbs into my palms, the electricity darting and dancing. I couldn’t risk fire. The trees would go up in an inferno if I let those magics out to play. Paris drew his short sword as a counterpart to his dagger.

  The creature stopped and let out a hiss, no doubt unhappy that its prey intended to fight back. Tense seconds passed, neither side making a move. The hissing resumed, but now there was more than one, a virtual host of high-pitched hisses cutting through the silence. We were surrounded. Standing back to back, we waited for the onslaught that was sure to come.

  Eerily calm, I kept my breathing steady. Battle was what I was meant for. There was no better feeling than destroying something that was bent on ending your life. The anticipation of an imminent clash had me spoiling for the fight.

  The hisses grew louder, and I could make out the skittering sound of legs, too many legs, on trees, on the ground, even shaking the leaves above us. They were trying to intimidate us, scare us into bolting and separating. I could respect it. Divide and conquer had always been one of my favorite strategies. But it wouldn’t work this time, at least not for the hissing masses in the woods.

  I allowed the balls of electricity to grow larger, my power surging through me, ready to end the threat. I looked into the mist, unafraid, and let out a long hiss of my own. A challenge.

  The noises stopped. The silence returned, as if the forest held its breath. The creatures were still there. Waiting, watching. I would wait no longer. I let the power surge through me, sending the orbs flying into the mist ahead of me. The electricity cracked, sending small bolts of lightning through the foggy cloud, illuminating what lay beyond.

  I gasped as a horror of legend appeared in the silver light.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Paris

  I began swinging at the mist the minute Elena let her magic loose. Great spurts of black blood erupted from my strikes, and the hidden creatures shrieked at each hit.

  “We have to run.” Elena’s voice was steady as she shot bolt after bolt of lightning and magical energy into the woods. So many wails ricocheted along the trees—too many. Our attackers had to number in the hundreds. But what were they?

  I spit the black blood that spurted against my mouth. “Do you know what they are?”

  “Yes.”

  A hairy black leg dropped into my vision. It was impossibly large, as long as a human leg. I looked up to see the maw of a giant spider bearing down on us. Its teeth were sharp needles that lined the entirety of its mouth, and its many eyes were black and unblinking. I drove my sword up into the beast. Black blood cascaded down, and it shrieked before shriveling onto the ground next to me.

  “Now!” Elena cried, and we took off at a run. Elena blasted the mist ahead of us, destroying the misty water droplets and revealing a mass of black hairy bodies and a multitude of hungry eyes.

  “Spiders. Fuck.” I attacked the mist at our backs.

  “Not just any spiders. Here.” Still casting with one hand, Elena grabbed a magic bomb from her pack and handed it to me. I threw it behind us. The deafening blast sent bits of spider flying past us. They thunked into the trees and leaves above, the pitter-patter like a hard rain on the murky ground.

  Elena stumbled, her foot caught in the shriveled legs of a felled spider. Another dropped down onto her back, its legs scrabbling at her. I smelled her blood on the air, the barbs on the creature’s legs ripping gashes in her skin as she screamed and fought. I pulled her from its grasp and swung out with my sword just in time. I caught it in mid-pounce and sent its head rolling away into the gloom.

  “Another!” Elena handed me a magic bomb.

  Despite her injuries, she hurled spell after spell into the mist as we kept moving. The chatter in the woods didn’t stop. Hundreds of legs still followed us, their owners readying to attack. They seemed endless, an infestation of horrors. I hurled the second bomb behind us, the explosion once again echoing through the dark trees before it was swallowed up by the all-encroaching mist.

  A spiny severed leg shot through the mist, its barbs embedding into me. I ripped it out, ignoring the blood running from the burning wound. Poison? Elena’s back must have been on fire.

  So many spiders had already fallen, littering the ground as we ran farther into Darkwood. I didn’t know if we were running straight to the spiders’ lair or to salvation. I very much doubted the latter.

  As Elena hurled an even larger burst of magical energy ahead of us, her powers never flagging, an ear-splitting screech cut through the sounds of battle. The pursuit stopped, the spiders retreating and chattering quietly. Elena inhaled deep gulps of air as we stood back to back once again. Her blood was warm, wetting my shirt as we pressed against each other. Th
ough her powers never waned, her use of them took a toll on her.

  I’d seen it before, long ago, her face pale and her body trembling after helping the Trojan army hold off Menelaus’s horde in the first battle.

  “Why have you come to this wood?” The strange voice could have been called lovely, the higher tones melodic. But it was mixed with a hissing noise, as if there were two speakers in unison.

  “We seek passage to the Bloodkeep.” Elena’s voice rang true and strong, despite her fatigue and pain.

  “Why seek death there when you can have it here instead, warrior?” A cacophony of hisses rose around them, seemingly in agreement with the speaker.

  “Because I seek more than death. I seek blood. I seek vengeance. And I shall have it all if you will only let us pass.” Elena’s palms lit with fire, a threat of greater magnitude. If they were to die here, better to set the forest ablaze and take these dark creatures with them. She combined her palms into one large orb of flame.

  “I once sought more than I should have.” The voice clucked. “I paid for it. You looked upon me, fair maiden. Just for a moment. Did you not know me?”

  I was unsure of the creature’s game, but Elena was likely already two steps ahead of me. Just like old times.

  “I do know you. What befell you is wrong and always will be so.” Elena’s words were genuine, but she continued to bobble the fire orb between her hands.

  Movement caught the corner of my eye. Huge spider legs, far larger than any of the ones I’d seen during the battle, slid out of the mist toward Elena. She tensed but did not stop toying with the fire, a show of strength. I wanted to turn, to strike the creature down, but I couldn’t leave Elena’s back unprotected. Instead of attacking, I turned my head to watch, keeping one eye on the dense fog.