by Lisa Morgan
“Your Majesty?” I reluctantly questioned in a whisper, knowing I was probably breaking some cardinal rule for addressing a king in his court.
He gestured, sweeping his hand from left to right. Following his movement, I watched as his hand stopped and started, looking for a clue to his meaning.
To the right was Michel, talking softly to one of the red skinned men. To the left was Luc, smiling and laughing easily at something Liam had said to him.
“Choices can sometimes bring both joy and sorrow in one. It is the risk we take in matters of the heart,” the king offered gently.
I nodded once to the king’s words, feeling a little better about him. Maybe I’d misjudged the ruler based on the terrible things I’d heard, but like his advice on choices, joy and sorrow sometimes were kept one in the same. I bowed to King Edwyn again and made my choice.
Turning, I took the three required steps to close the distance between the vampire prince and I before politely interrupting.
“Excuse me, may I have this dance?” I requested with a smile.
Twenty Seven
“If you will kindly excuse me,” Michel offered in a bow to the red men he’d been talking to, while keeping his eyes on mine. The group bowed to the prince and smiled at me. I heard them chuckle under their breath, but I paid them no mind, taking the hand Michel presented and letting him escort me to the center of the room.
A wide circle opened as the orchestra slowed their melody, the pull of the bows across strings signaling a change of songs as the prince and I came to stand in the center of the room. Michel drew my hand to rest on his chest, and with his other, held me low on my waist, a cool thumb caressing the bare skin on my back.
I watched his eyes, focused only on me as we swayed slowly from side to side in time with the music. The room around us melted away until we were the only two left.
Michel led with confidence, and I was in awe that my feet knew what to do. He leaned into me, his breath on my ear, “I thought you couldn’t dance.”
“I guess I just needed the right partner,” I whispered as he pulled away to look at me. Michel smiled, and I felt his hand splay on my back, holding me tightly to his body.
“Sometimes the perfect song has yet to be played,” Michel replied. My heart fluttered as I absorbed his words.
“It shocks me a little.”
“What shocks you?” he asked without missing a step.
“That you don’t breathe unless you want to.”
Michel smirked, his lips falling close to mine. “It shouldn’t. Even if I was required, I wouldn’t around you. You take my breath away whenever you’re near.”
I exhaled the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and closed my eyes. I let the prince guide me over the dance floor, the melody prompting Michel to move slowly while holding me firmly in his embrace.
The song drifted to an end, even as I wished it would play forever. Michel brought us to a slow stop, and when the music completed, he released his grip on my back. Still holding my hand, he stepped backward, bowing to me.
I bowed my head in return and smiled. The crowd that had been observing us share the dance clapped courteously and whispered around us. I didn’t care.
I saw Autumn and Seatha standing together, both offering me thumbs up that I blushed at. I saw my grandfather beaming proudly. Luc’s expression was unreadable; his face turned to alabaster stone that was staring at his brother and me.
“Shall we take some air in the garden?” Michel suggested, extending his arm to me.
I chuckled at the formality in his request and threaded my arm under his. Giving his father a bow, which was returned by the king, we made our way toward a set of huge marble arches as the band resumed playing, and the ballroom floor once again filled with couples.
Michel led me under the arches, pushing open tall stained glass doors. “This way,” he directed, holding my hand and walking slowly so I could truly experience the surroundings.
The vision under the moonlight was stunning. Flowers, roses actually, of such diversity in colors, ruled this garden. Their aroma hung in the air, making me feel drunk from the rich scents.
“Michel,” I exhaled, looking to the variety and struck by the myriad of petals encompassing our walk. “They’re beautiful. And there’s so many of them.”
Michel nodded, his smile softer, but still pleased that I was enjoying the flowers. “That’s not what I wanted to show you.”
I nodded, my attention brought back to him. A few more steps and we stood looking at a fountain.
“This is what I wanted you to see,” Michel said, pulling me forward.
“It’s remarkable,” I assessed in amazement, taking in the fine craftsmanship of the stone fountain. The basin was as large as the swimming pool at The Trust, but only a foot or two deep. In the center stood a carving of an angel, her hands outstretched as if offering something, glittering brightly under the clear night sky. I walked closer, Michel still holding my hand, and looked over the side.
“It’s empty?” I questioned, slightly disappointed. Michel nodded in agreement. I saw the carvings on the ledge, those now familiar shapes I knew of as the language in The Realm. Not waiting for his translation, I skimmed my free hand tenderly over the engraving.
“The angels will provide,” I read aloud when the shapes had changed their formation.
A gurgling began from inside the fountain. If I’d thought the water feature human made, I’d have suggested getting a maintenance man to take a look, but I assumed that like so many other things in The Realm, this most likely relied on magicks of some kind.
I began to hear water flowing and gazed at the fountain with eager anticipation. Slowly, the bubbling noise subsided, the pitch becoming a little higher, then a little more, until dark liquid spilled from the wrists and over the angel’s hands, falling into the basin beneath as I watched.
The overpowering iron smell was making me light-headed.
“Michel, is that fountain flowing blood?”
“I wasn’t sure,” Michel answered, sitting on the ledge and gesturing for me to sit beside him. I shook my head in refusal, somewhat repulsed by the thick wine-colored fluid that trickled and splashed inside the shallow bowl.
“Wasn’t sure about what?”
“Maggie,” he said, standing again, his eyes unsure. “As a vampire, I have to drink blood from angels to live.”
“I know, but I just never envisioned you guys had a fountain of it flowing in your backyard. Do all vampires have one or just the ruling class?” I couldn’t keep the condescending tone from my voice. I didn’t want to be frightened or disgusted, but I hadn’t been prepared to see this type of display. Watching the brothers pour drinks from a decanter was one thing—but a waterfall of blood was quite another.
“The angels have provided only this fountain,” Michel explained, dropping his eyes. “This one, to feed all vampires of The Realm. Four times a year, the Angels let their blood flow, providing for us. I knew it was that day, and I wanted you to see it because …”
“Because why?” I whispered, looking at him.
Michel lifted his face to mine. Cautiously, he closed the distance between us, putting his arms around me and pulling me into an embrace.
He whispered, his eyes holding mine, “I want you to be with me. I care for you, Maggie. I don’t want there to be a moment between us where something is hidden. I need you to know this about me.”
His lips came even closer, and I held my breath as Michel’s held my chin and tipped my face up to his. The full measure of his emotion seemed written across his features, his eyes intent and nervous on mine.
“Because I think,” his lips were so close to mine, words waltzing across my lips, “I think I’m falling in love with you, Maggie.”
Courage within that I’d never thought to possess prompted me to lift my hand and cradle his cheek in my palm. He didn’t speak, and neither did I.
The fraction of a centimeter of distance
between his lips and mine vanished as we shared a kiss under the moon. My heart raced and my mind turned foggy as I let my eyes slip closed. Michel’s kiss was a tonic; a potion that took control of me.
“There is nothing I want more,” Michel confessed as he parted enough to let his words play over me skin, “than to please you and keep you safe. Please tell me I’m not trapped in a fantastic dream? Reassure me that I’m really here, holding you.”
I couldn’t find the words to tell him how I was feeling. I let my hands entwine in his hair and pulled his mouth back to me, determined to show him that I felt the same way about him, but he pulled away once more.
“Tell me,” Michel asked, his demand serious and full of need.
“I think I love you, too,” I whispered.
Michel’s sudden kiss was like a cold heat. It deepened, leaving my lips numb. His hands clutched me, pulling me tighter against him, leaving no gap to determine where he began and I ended. His fingers moved from my waist to my shoulder blades, almost painfully digging in to keep our bodies close as our tongues searched each other, twining in ruthless study of each other.
And I was okay with that.
I could sense a passionate heat rising inside me even as my heart raced against my chest. My hands clawed into Michel’s hair, and a low moan escaped from his throat.
I was losing control of my faculties, and I’ll be damned, I liked it. Loosening my grip on his hair, I ran my hands down his back, letting my nails dig through his jacket. I felt so alive as I continued consuming his kiss, the touch of his lips kindling a lost emotion inside me.
“Maggie …” Michel moaned my name.
It’s so hot.
“Maggie …” Michel said again, this time with less pleasure in his tone.
Just a little bit longer, I begged with my thoughts, desperate to stain my lips with his kiss, to make it a tattoo that would forever stain my skin
“Maggie!” a voice yelled from the path, breaking my focus. I was so angry, practically ready to kill someone, as I shoved away from Michel’s embrace. I opened my eyes as I spun around to find the intruder.
“And you would have,” Luc spoke coldly, answering my thoughts with his words. “Another half a minute and you’d have incinerated him.”
I studied Luc, confused, before returning to Michel. He was smoking, and I didn’t mean in the he’s really good looking sense.
Michel’s lips looked as if they were sun burned and smoke rose from his back. I grabbed his arm, swinging him around. The back of his jacket where I’d dug in my fingernails had melted away.
“My God,” I muttered, stepping backward from him and slapping my hand over my mouth, not wanting to believe that I’d caused this harm to him.
“Maggie.” Michel spoke with difficulty, a pained look crossing his face as he tried to talk. “I’ll heal.”
“I did this to you,” I choked out even as I was witnessing Michel’s lips begin to repair themselves. It did little to ease the tight pain in my chest.
“When they say a chick’s hot stuff, I guess they aren’t joking, little brother,” Luc teased.
“You think this is funny?” I shot at Luc, spinning around to face him. Instinct took over, and I raised my arms toward the sky. Instantly, bright red flames appeared over my flesh, moving as if I had been soaked in gasoline and a match tossed on me.
Luc took a step backward, lifting his hands in surrender. “Whoa there, pyro. I left my extinguisher back at the party.”
His barbs were making me angrier. The garden, with its silvery moonlight, tainted red in my vision; shades of crimson everywhere I looked. I pointed my hands toward Luc’s feet and a burst of molten fire flew at him. He jumped to the left, narrowly avoiding the flames.
“Hey now!” Luc continued to tease. “If you want to see me dance, why don’t we go on inside and—”
His voice fell away as my hair splayed out around me. A desert wind, harsh and unforgiving, whipped through the garden, rustling the flowers, and another stream of fire flew at Luc, singeing his bangs.
“Okay, Phoenix.” The humor was now gone from his voice, replaced by a warning as he crouched down in a predatory stance. “Burn my clothes, or for the love of the angels, these damned ugly boots, but let’s leave the hair alone.”
I brought my hand down, pointing it at him and ready to terminate the vampire who found his barbs so witty.
“Maggie,” another voice called for my attention, distracting me from my target. Liam stood in the archway, a crowd gathering at his back. “Enough.”
The voice in my head told me to torch everything, to incinerate them all. I could feel a smile crawl across my face as I envisioned the entire world on fire at my hands.
Margaret, stop this, a calm female voice whispered in my ear.
My arms stayed outstretched. Luc crouched, readying himself to lunge, his pupils taking on the feline characteristic and steady on me.
Margaret, the woman’s voice eased, you need to breathe. Calm yourself, and you will control it.
“I can’t control it!” I screamed out to the voice, beginning to feel more control as I answered her.
“You can,” the woman and Liam’s voices echoed together.
I argued aloud to both my grandfather and the female voice that tried to soothe, even as I felt the dampness entering my field of vision, “I’m not strong enough.”
You are stronger than you know, Margaret. You will need this fire, but not now. Not today.
My heart rate began to calm. I could hear it in my ears, the thunderous drum beat slowing its intensity. There was a rush of hot air, subsiding until it was finally gone. There was a pulling in my arms and my fingers, a gentle suckling, ushering the flames back inside me.
I stood still, my vision returning to normal. My arms were exhausted, like they’d been holding heavy weights above my head for hours. Unable to hold them out any longer, I let them fall to my side just as my legs gave out under me.
Michel caught me. I didn’t pass out, but I felt like I’d ran a marathon. When I finally was able to speak again, my words came out breathless and desperate.
I looked to Michel, his arms steady around me. “I’m sorry! I don’t … I don’t know what happened—”
“It’s okay,” he responded sympathetically, holding me against him. His hands rubbed my face tenderly, but they felt like ice as he mopped my brow.
“I hurt you,” I cried softly, tears flushing my sight.
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault; it was an accident.”
Luc chortled as he forced the crowd back inside the ballroom. “Who would’ve thought the red head was such a hot kisser?”
Liam, followed closely by Seatha and Autumn, came to my side and gave me a quick once over while Michel helped me stand. I reassured them I was okay, just really tired.
“That was wild,” Seatha, sounding impressed and a little jealous, observed. “You almost toasted Luc.”
“I didn’t mean to,” I tried to convince them. “I couldn’t control it. Everything was red and I was so mad, and Luc wouldn’t shut his mouth. It wasn’t until that woman whispered to me that I was able to focus again.”
“What woman?” Michel asked, raising his eyebrow. The four of them turned, scanning the garden for the woman I was referring to.
“I don’t know,” I said, also searching for the female who’d helped calm me down with her words. “I … I didn’t see her, I only heard her voice.”
“Interesting,” Liam pondered, running his fingers over his beard.
“What’s interesting?”
“I don’t know,” he responded, still looking through the bushes into the night. “I’ll have to research this some. Maggie. Michel. Girls.” My grandfather nodded his head to each of us and hurried back inside.
“Is it just me, or is Liam getting stranger?” Seatha asked, watching my grandfather rush back inside the castle.
“No,” Autumn answered, her eyes also following my grandfather’s trail, �
��maybe all those instances at the hospital left a mark, but this is weird even for Liam.”
I had no idea what they were talking about, deciding I was too tired to think about it at the moment anyway. I wanted nothing more than to go to my room, pull off this gown, and sleep.
The horn bellowed again, and we wrenched our heads toward the arches.
“My father summons the guests,” Michel instructed, looking back to me as he continued, “With luck, this won’t last long, and I can get you into bed.” My eyebrows, along with the witch’s and fae’s, shot high.
“I meant,” Michel corrected himself, embarrassed and coughing into his hand, “that I can walk you to your room so you may get some rest.” I nodded, holding Michel’s hand as we moved to reenter the ballroom.
From behind us, I heard Seatha mutter to the witch, “I guess she is a hot kisser.” Autumn giggled.
Twenty Eight
I could feel the crowd’s eyes on me as we entered the ballroom. Clusters of beings hovered together, and I watched as they looked at me and then away quickly, hands covering mouths as they whispered in their neighbor’s ear.
“Don’t mind them.” Michel draped his arm lazily over my shoulder like I hadn’t almost killed him and tipped his head close to mine as he spoke, “They’re whispering about me.”
“About you?” I questioned in doubt.
He smiled as the horn blew again, and the king strode back to his throne. “Of course they are. They’re wondering how I got so lucky to have the most beautiful girl in the room on my arm.” I smiled at Michel as he gave me a quick peck on the cheek and left me with my friends, making his way to stand at his father’s feet.
Luc was there already, two thin swords strapped to his back. He hadn’t been wearing them before, and I was sure these must be recent additions to his formal ensemble. My eyes drifted to Michel and watched as a knight handed him the heavy looking sword I assumed to belong to the vampire prince. Scanning the room, I took notice that almost all the beings were now wearing some form of weaponry. Even the witches had daggers strung to their arms.