Regret filled Ester’s eyes. “Not only can Fae see through our shadow cloaks.”
More hissing.
“I did not get very far in my readings, but they are powerful in earth magic.”
Godron’s pleasant features froze into a mask of disgust. “I withdraw my offer.”
“Imprisonment or death.” Vlad said to her. “Choose.”
Sybil heard the words as if from a long way off. Imprisonment had driven her mother mad. “I choose death.”
“No!” Anton shouted straining at his chains.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ANTON HAD FELT every one of Sybil’s emotions, the shock followed by horror as Godron had tried to fulfil his promise. As well as the terrible despair that made her choice seem almost reasonable.
“No!” he yelled again.
She looked at him, sadly. “I cannot bear to be imprisoned.”
“She is right, Anton,” Ester called out. “The Fae need light as much as we need the dark.”
“It must be why, Sire, Fae and Vampire do not coexist well,” the Librarian said. “It is the will of the gods.”
“We do not coexist well because they use magic,” Vlad snapped.
“The cloaking we use is a form of magic,” Ester said. “It says so here.” She tapped the book’s cover.
“It is a natural adaptation,” someone called out. “Needed for our survival.”
“That is what we were taught,” Vlad said.
Every eye was upon Ester. “What if what we were taught was a lie,” she said. “Magic was forbidden, yet vampires could not survive without the ability to hide in plain sight. The Fae gave us that magic a millennia ago. It is part of the birthing ceremony. The oil of midnight each new born vampire consumes, whether birthed or turned.”
“Liar!” a woman cried out. “Healers and scholars are all the same, always trying to tear down our beliefs in favour of science and discovery.”
The room erupted in a buzz of anger, flashing fangs and glowing eyes.
“Clear the Court,” Vlad shouted. “Only the members of my Cabinet are to remain. I will decided what is truth and what is a lie.”
The room slowly emptied of lesser courtiers, leaving only Vlad’s key ministers. Vlad returned to his throne and sank his head into his hands. “Perhaps Lord Sergai was right,” he muttered. “I am not fit to rule my people.”
“Sergai was not right,” a deep voice slurred. Dryden. He pushed through those encircling the dais
Anton stood quietly in his chains. If he wanted them to release him, and he would need them to if Sybil insisted on her choice, he had to act as if his blood rage was done. Somehow, as long as he kept her in sight, he felt calmer, more in control.
“What do you mean, Lord Dryden,” Vlad asked softly.
“When we killed off the Fae during the wars,” he glanced at Sybil, and then up at the ceiling at the battle paintings, “or we thought we did, everything changed. The gods deserted us. Our numbers have dwindled. We even fight amongst ourselves. Is it possible that this is our one chance for salvation? The Fae were the favourites of the gods. By saving this one, might we also be saved?”
Ester dropped to her knees and opened the book, turning the pages in desperate haste. “I can find nothing to say Fae can be made Vampire.”
“Precisely,” Dryden said, listing to the right and collapsing on his knees on the steps. He rolled over and sat, before pulling a flask from his inside pocket and taking a swig. “Exactly. A woman of great understanding.”
Vlad snorted.
“I won’t be a vampire,” Sybil said, her gaze fixed on Anton. “I cannot let Godron or anyone else touch me that way. Only Anton.”
His stomach churned. “I am foresworn.”
Ester rose to her feet. “You are being punished for a crime you did not commit.”
Hope filled him, but as he saw the sorrow in her eyes, he let it seep away. “Ester. Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” Vlad said frowning. “What are you two hiding? You two always did plot and plan behind everyone’s backs.”
“Anton did not kill Petr,” Ester said. She shuddered. “I did.”
A collective gasp filled the room.
“How is this?” Vlad said sitting up straight, his voice stern.
“He attacked me.” She hung her head. “Took what was mine to give.”
“Rape?” someone whispered.
She straightened her shoulders. “Yes. Rape. Anton arrived as I pierced Petr’s neck with his own knife. I was devastated. I wanted to be a Healer so badly and now Petr had taken that from me too. A Healer may do no harm. It is the law.” She gave Anton a small smile. “Anton gave me another chance. He said I was important to our race. That there are too few healers born. That he knew what Petr was like and should have warned me.”
Blood leached from Vlad’s face. “I also knew Petr’s proclivities. I was equally to blame, then, sister. But Sergai had been so good to me after my father died, he wanted my sister’s marriage to his son so badly, I said nothing.”
Sybil’s gaze darted from Ester to Vlad and back again, dawning understanding on her face.
“Anton is innocent of any crime,” Ester said.
“How do we know this is not some tale made up between the two of you?” a courtier shouted from the back of the room.
“It is not,” Zavier said, stepping forward. “We arrested Lord Sergai on returning to the Citadel. He had admitted under duress to telling Petr what do if the Lady Ester ever changed her mind. How to make sure of her. He did not tell us it had been done. It must have weighed heavily on his mind.”
“Then the sentence is no longer enforceable,” Vlad said. “You are free, Count Grazki. Unchain him.”
“How does it help us,” Anton said bitterly, “when you have passed sentence on Lady Sybil? Can you not let her go, my King? After all she has done for us.”
“I would that I could, Anton, my friend.”
“I do not choose imprisonment,” Sybil said.
“Who will carry out the King’s order now that we have no Blade?” Zavier asked.
When Zavier saw the King’s expression, he shook his head. “No, Sire, I will perform any duty, but that.”
No one else stepped forward.
“It seems we are at an impasse. You will leave while my Cabinet and I interview Princess Ester and determine what is to be done in light of this evidence.”
“Healer Ester,” the lady said bravely lifting her chin.
Vlad scowled. “We will also discuss the matter of Lady Sybil and let you know our decision.”
Sybil and Anton waited in a small anteroom off the main chamber while the King consulted with his advisors. They sat side by side in silence. The bleakness of Anton’s mood and the presence of Paris who had been set to guard them, prevented Sybil from uttering a word.
A few minutes ran into one hour and then a second and still they waited. Halfway through the third hour, Vlad and Ester entered. “Leave us,” the King said to Paris, who saluted and departed.
“What is the verdict?” Anton asked rising to his feet.
“I am pardoned,” Ester said. “Oh Anton I wish I had been courageous enough to admit what I did all those years ago. I let you suffer for my cowardice.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Anton said giving her shoulder a squeeze. “It was what the gods had planned for us, I have no doubt.”
Vlad sank into one of the chairs. “By the gods that throne gets more uncomfortable by the day.” He looked around the room. “My Cabinet refused to listen to any thought of mercy in Sybil’s case. The options are the same for Fae as for human. Turn, imprisonment or death. They knew turning is no option at all, which is why they actually agreed to keep it on the list.”
Ester frowned. “Something Lord Dryden said...”
“Drunken Lord Dryden,” Anton growled. “The man hasn’t made a scrap of sense for as long as I’ve known him.”
“Our father called him one of his wisest councillor’s before he
became mate-sick,” Vlad replied.
“What did Dryden say?” Sybil asked irritated by the way Anton had his arm slung over the Healer’s shoulders, but feeling as if she didn’t have the right to object. Anton having been so very clear that she meant less to him than his friend did.
Ester pursed her lips. “I said there was nothing in the Book to say that Fae can be turned and he said precisely. I tried to get him to say more, but he simply fell asleep after muttering something about me being able to figure it out.”
“I hate riddles,” Vlad said.
“There is nothing to say Fae can be turned,” Anton said slowly.
Ester pulled away and faced him. “But nor is there anything to say they cannot.”
“But you said—” Vlad said.
“I said I read somewhere about it being dangerous.”
“Dangerous to whom?” Vlad asked.
“It seemed to be a warning to us,” Ester said. “But it might mean both parties.”
Anton’s expression did not change, but Sybil sensed his steely determination. As if he had already come to a decision. One he did not like. She would not risk Anton’s life.
“I have already made my choice,” she said.
Anton glared at her and then at his King. “We need time to discuss this.” He glanced around the ante-chamber with its gilt chairs and portraits on the walls. “This is hardly the place for reasonable conversation. I would like to return to my quarters.”
The King nodded his assent.
Ester looked at them with sympathy. “Sybil, if you agree to imprisonment, perhaps it would give us time to find a way out of this situation. To see if turning is a possibility. I promise you I will not cease looking for an answer.”
Her heart wrenched at the sorrow in the other woman’s face. Anton’s distress, as if he could not bear the idea of turning her into what he was, though he would do it if required, made up her mind. “I have made my choice.”
The King rose, gave Anton’s shoulder as squeeze. “You will have until the end of sunup tomorrow. Then the sentence will be carried out.” He tucked his arm through Ester’s and they left.
Anton’s expression was colder than ice as he watched everyone leave. He turned to her and there was no anger, no resentment, only despair in his beautiful eyes.
“Anton—”
“We will speak when we are private.” Arm-in-arm, they walked silently back to his quarters with Paris following at a discreet distance. All the while they walked she could feel his inner turmoil.
Once inside she turned to face him. “What are you planning?”
His lips twisted in a wry smile. “If I didn’t know better I would think we were already bonded.” He let go a short sigh. “I am going to get you out of the Citadel and you are going to go as far from here as possible.”
Astonished she stared at him. “There is a guard on the door.”
“He cannot see through the robes you brought from St Giles.”
She gasped. “You saw and said nothing?”
“I was hoping they would not be needed and I could burn them like the others.” He shrugged and his eyes gleamed with mischief making him look startlingly boyish and pleased with himself. And so very dear to her heart.
“You will come with me?”
His smile faded. He touched his throat where the tattooed chain lay beneath pristine white linen. “I will not break my vow.”
Pain struck beneath her ribs. For a moment she could not breathe. “Then this is goodbye.”
He nodded, eyes wary. Clearly fearing some sort of female dramatics or tears. She refused to stoop so low.
“Very well,” she said.
“It is for the best. You must change your name. Stay far from London. I promise you will be safe. You will leave an hour before dawn. It will be hours before anyone can follow.”
“I can see you have thought this all out.”
“While we were waiting.” He looked at her gravely. “Even if it was possible to change you in to a vampire, I would not do it.”
“You wouldn’t?”
“No. I would have you happy and something inside me knows you would hate never being able to go outside during daylight hours.”
She gasped. Closed her eyes. Imagined all her life never seeing the sun and shuddered. Worse yet would be forcing this man to tie himself to a woman he did not love for the rest of his life. Judging from what she had heard, he had suffered enough for the sake of protecting a woman. “It wouldn’t work,” she whispered.
She walked into his arms and he held her. Kissed her temple, her cheek, inhaled as if he would imprint the memory of her scent on his very soul. “I should have left when you asked me to.” She looked up at his dear face, into his eyes and saw her pain mirrored there. “Do you think, before I go... could we... Properly. Together. I desire you so much.” The last words rushed out of her mouth like a torrent.
“No more than I want you,” he said gazing into her face. He gathered her gently and lay her down on the bed. “If it would please you, my lady?”
She smiled, because if she did not she would surely cry. “It would please me very much.”
As Anton gazed into her face, he knew a sharp stab regret. Not for helping Ester, but for not standing up to the old King. He’d been so eager to prove himself worthy of his reprieve, to save his life, it had been years before he realized how deep he’d sunk into evil. By then it was too late. The darkness in his soul was too entrenched. The cold too deep in his bones for the small acts of mercy he permitted himself in Vlad’s service to make a difference.
He did not come to her clean, as an honourable vampire should. He was stained with the blood of many. And yet he could refuse her nothing. And if this tortured what remained of his soul, then it was exactly what he deserved.
Slowly, reverently, he unclothed her, inch by inch revealing her pale skin to his burning gaze. He traced the delicate blue lines of her veins with shaking fingertips, cupped the curve of her deliciously shaped breasts that fit so neatly into his palm. He re-acquainted himself each swell, each hollow as he eased the golden gown down her torso, over her hips, down her slender curvaceous legs. His fangs locked in place.
The urge to bite tore at him, but he had a lifetime of denial to fall back on. Hard won control. This time would be no different.
A lie.
This time would change everything, because when this was over, he would lose her.
Her breathing quickened as he stroked and caressed. Her heartbeat picked up speed. The sound of the blood gushing through her arteries, pulsing through her veins, flushing her skin with warmth to a pretty shade of pink.
She reached up and traced the ink around his neck, the chain that bound him as the King’s Blade. He didn’t even have that anymore. He had no purpose left in his life, except to protect his.... She was not his. Could not be his. But he was hers unto death.
A death likely to be not far off once Vlad realized it was he who had set her free.
He caught her questing fingers in one hand and kissed them one at a time, savouring the sensation against his tongue, the taste of meadows, honey and summer sun, revelling in the shy smile on her face.
“My lady,” he said softly. He rose and stripped off his pantaloons, watching her as she gazed at his cock, licking her lips as if she would taste, felt the heat and the thrumming as his blood thundered in the place where her gaze touched him. He groaned and came over her, sliding his fingers into the soft slick folds of her sex, feeling the heat and wet of her desire. He watched his fingers comb through the crisp auburn curls that lightly dusted her mons. So lovely, so delicate.
He took first one breast then the other in his mouth, circling the little hard nubs with his tongue while he continued his gentle stroking of her clitoris. He suckled and teased and kissed and stroked until her head was thrashing on the pillow so great was her need. For him.
He parted her thighs with one knee, then the other, opening her core to his hot gaze.
But there was no fear on her face, only deep hunger.
Courage. She had so much damned courage and he was nothing but a coward.
He took her small hand and pressed it to his cock, showed her how to grasp it, how to stroke for his pleasure, and wanted to weep for the pure joy of it. Emboldened, she explored the broad head and hard length and then the softness of his stones, weighing them, rolling them in her palm until he thought his head would explode with pleasure. She glanced up at his face. “May I...”
“You may do anything you wish.” He was her bonded slave, though she would never be his.
She kissed the tip of his penis, swirled her tongue around the head, found the sensitive place that made his whole body tighten with the need to spill.
“I want to be inside you,” he growled.
She lay back against the pillow. “Yes. Please. I want you there.”
“This may burn a little, though you are ready.” More than ready. Pearls of moisture glistened among her curls.
She nodded, and once more he was struck by her courage.
He positioned himself at her entrance. Gently drove forward a little. After her first gasp, she lay still.
He bent to kiss her lovely mouth, to tease her throat with his tongue, to scrape his fangs across the skin where her jugular throbbed with hot blood.
He shivered at the force of the temptation to taste.
She lifted her hips and he pressed into her sheath a little deeper. So tight. So hot. So welcoming.
The pain of loss twisted among the pangs of sweet pleasure.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HE WAS HURTING, she could feel it, in her heart. Joy was there too, amid the pain, but for some reason, being with her was tearing him apart. She wanted his happiness so desperately. She had hoped by making love to him, she could have made the connection, let him feel what she felt for him.
Affection—his—flooded through her in a warm tide.
Perhaps he would remember their time together with fondness.
A Most Peculiar Season Series Boxed Set: Five Full-length Connected Novels by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors Page 100