A Vampire’s Vow

by Kayleigh Sky

Calmer anyway. Fair.

  Rune rolled his bracelet. What energy was in it? How much of his parents’ darkness had seeped into his soul?

  He hugged Zev goodbye and went down the steps.

  With his chin low, Squy stood at his approach. Rune settled on a seat up front and gazed at the lights at the castle. The glow stretched far out into the lake. Every window was lit. Outside, lamps perched on the veranda wall and hung from stands. The edifice glowed like an emerald embedded in the black rock.

  As they grew closer, the strains of music and laughter floated out across the water.

  Rune’s gaze drifted to a cave a few hundred yards from the castle. It was short and shallow, a playhouse for him and Mal when they’d been children.

  Behind the castle, another cave opened onto a tunnel to the surface. It was narrow and rough, and nobody used it.

  Rune closed his eyes for a moment, picturing the tunnel in the Thusia cave. That was a door. He was sure of it though he hadn’t been able to get close. An edge of metal in a wall painted a luminous gold. A doorframe. A surge of elation had filled him at the sight of it. A giddy hope as though he could step through it into a place without castles or kings or blood vows.

  A place without spell-catchers or spies.

  But the rock of the boat against the pier roused him from his thoughts, and he grabbed his things and hopped ashore.

  Dawn met him at the veranda steps. Many of the guests had already arrived, and she was dressed in a flowing white gown, a silver tiara studded with blue topaz on her head. “I was beginning to think you were skipping out on your own party.”

  “Just exploring with Zev.”

  She rolled her eyes. “One of these days you’re going to get lost in a wormhole.”

  He laughed. “I hope not.”

  “Well, go get ready. The rest of the guests will be arriving in an hour.”

  “For Jessa,” he said and handed her the box of tarts before he hurried inside.

  Upstairs, he stripped off his shirt as he headed for the shower room, drawn on by the crash of falling water. A fine mist chilled the air in the chamber.

  He shucked his pants and ducked his head into the cold stream that poured down through a grate beneath him. Shivering, he scrubbed the sweat from his body and washed his hair, wishing he’d had time for the servants to warm a bath for him.

  Or better, wishing he could melt away in the hot springs in Celesia.

  Instead of waking him, the cold just made him want to crawl into bed. Preferably with Zev. He wanted to luxuriate in his heat and soft skin for as long as the world let him.

  Damn.

  What are you going to do? Give the King your blood?

  A vow of obedience wasn’t the same as a vow of loyalty. It was a gift of blood for one thing. A gift of his free will. His backbone. Giving loyalty depended on the honor of the one he gave it to. No honor, no loyalty.

  You’ll be bound to him forever.

  He scrubbed a towel over his skin until it burned, snatched up his clothes, and stalked to his room.

  A pair of jeans and a shirt lay on his bed.

  Dawn’s choices.

  For a moment, an eerie suspicion that she had guessed the doubts that tore at him ran through his thoughts.

  Why the human clothes?

  It wasn’t that he wanted to live on the surface. He loved Celestine, and he would be King. It was his destiny and his honor. But it was the old ways he’d leave behind. The thread of hate that festered in the cracks and crevices of Ellowyn history.

  Qudim forbid the taking of human life, as had his father, but Rune had never been sure the law didn’t spawn from practicality. It was best to keep humans in the dark about the Ellowyn. But to Rune, humans were vampires’ other halves. And something inside him haunted a lost place in his heart, as though the thing that made him whole was up above.

  A whisper in his dreams.

  Taking a breath, he pushed the worrisome thoughts away, put on the soft jeans and the heavy boots tucked under his bed and buttoned the silky white shirt. In the mirror, his face was ghostly, still boyishly soft. He looked away, picked up his lamp, and headed downstairs, veering at the last moment for the kitchen.

  “Well, well, well…” Bettina separated from her helpers, put a hand on her hip, and cocked her head. “I see you’re going all out for your party.”

  He grinned. “I wouldn’t want to show anybody up.”

  Bettina laughed and kissed his forehead. “You don’t even have to try. And making a late entrance isn’t going to help.”

  “I’m not late. I am hungry though.”

  “Well, half your tarts are gone because somebody let that little scamp Jessa in here.”

  “You love him.”

  She blew out a gusty breath. “I tolerate him. Here. Try this. I put some human pepper in it.”

  He took the small pie she gave him. It was warm and wafted the scent of mushrooms and fish under his nose. “What is it?”

  “Cavefish. It’s a little spicy with the pepper.”

  He took a bite, and the pastry melted on his tongue, sweet fish and woodsy mushrooms filling his mouth. “Hm. That’s good. I like the pepper.”

  “Good. Now go.”

  Rune grabbed another pie and left the kitchen.

  On the veranda, he cast a glance over the crowd socializing there and found Zev leaning against the balustrade. His hair was fastened in a tie at the top of his head and fell in a long braid over his shoulder.

  Mal stood with him, batting her lashes most likely. Zev stood with folded arms, and Rune chuckled. Mal’s only agenda was causing Zev anguish. Rune doubted she had any interest in him, but at fourteen, testing her allure had become her favorite pastime.

  Zev and Mal made a pretty couple on paper and shared common interests that made them seem ideal together. But Mal was a Senera, Abadi’s daughter, and too ferocious for Zev. But then, so was Rune.

  He strode up to them, kissed Zev, and smiled at Mal.

  She scowled and stomped off, muttering “Blech,” over her shoulder.

  Zev breathed out. “You look good.”

  Rune grinned. “Dawn dressed me.”

  Zev snorted. “Spoiled.”

  “Yep.”

  He offered half his pie to Zev.

  Boats offloaded passengers, one group after the other. The strange and haunting notes of a bi’lilo undulated over the laughter and voices as people began to make their way into the dining hall. With his back resting against the balustrade, Rune gazed at the bi’lilo player. She dragged her bow across the strings of the instrument with her eyes half closed, her face washed with melancholy.

  The sound of the song stirred his heart. So lost was he in it, he jumped when Zev took his wrist, pushed aside his bracelet, which he’d been twisting without noticing, and kissed his veins.

  “I go with you,” Zev whispered. “Always.”

  “Zev—”

  “No. I know you’re conflicted about tonight. You don’t have to talk to me about it, but you don’t get to choose for me either. All I’m saying is, no matter what, my loyalty is yours.” Zev leaned in, his lips at Rune’s ear. “My obedience is yours.”

  “You have my heart,” Rune whispered. “You always will.”

  “Come now.”

  Zev tugged on his hand, and they followed the last of the guests into the dining hall where Zev broke free to join his family.

  The King’s table stretched from end to end of a cavernous space. Above, a convex ceiling twinkled with specks of mica that had gone chartreuse in the green lamplight. Smaller tables filled the rest of the space. Gifts already covered one of the tables, rising in a heap against the tapestried wall.

  Rune took the chair beside Qudim’s, grunting in surprise when a small body clambered into his lap from under the table.

  “Hi,” Jessa whispered.

  “Hi, blossom.”

  “Mal said I was pessering.”

  “Oh. Do you feel like a pest?”

&nb
sp; “No.”

  “Sit quiet, okay?”

  “Okay,” Jessa whispered, thrashing his legs as he struggled in a circle until he sat on Rune’s lap, back to his belly.

  The noise in the hall fell to a murmur at Qudim’s arrival. A magnificent vampire, Rune had to admit. A demon in human eyes. Ruthless, amused, hauntingly romantic. Dawn flowed at his side, light to his dark, her hair a tangle of gold red curls.

  Rune hooked an arm under Jessa’s legs as he rose and stood with everyone else. Chins dipped, bows following.

  Though he dipped his chin, Rune did not bow with the others.

  The clasp of Qudim’s hand to the back of his neck was Rune’s signal to lift his head. With a tightening of his fingers, holding Rune firm, Qudim leaned in and pressed his forehead to Rune’s.

  “I am honored,” said Rune.

  Qudim straightened. “As am I. And proud.”

  Rune forced a smile. Expression softening, Qudim flicked Jessa’s chin with a fingertip before he sat, taking the chair beside Dawn. The rest of the hall followed suit, and Qudim took a swallow of the contents of a glass that looked as black as night but was red and gold. Rune had seen it under the human sun when Protis had showed it to him. Qudim had commissioned it, and now, after drinking, he lifted it high.

  “To my son. Your future king!”

  The cries that followed were of a kind that woke fear in humans. Eerie and high-pitched. Swelling and reverberating. Jessa clapped his hands over his ears, and Dawn laughed and tickled his cheek. Shivers ran up and down Rune’s spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Will these people follow me?

  Qudim had marched them into a bloody war.

  Perhaps they were tired, but the ululations that followed the cries spoke of their passion. Cold? No vampire was cold. Vampires ran hot—honor, loyalty, adoration boiling in their veins.

  “To Qudim!”

  “To Rune!”

  A smile lifted Qudim’s lips, his brows low over his burning eyes.

  Quiet slowly settled over the room.

  Qudim raised his head. “Eat!”

  Voices buzzed again. Rune fed Jessa from his plate, a sour taste in his mouth from the nerves in his stomach. He sought out Zev and met his gaze down the table where he sat with his mother’s family. The Gorans were minor though an old family, but Zev was a Dinallah. If Qudim allowed it, the throne would fall to him if anything happened to Rune.

  I go with you.

  Where? Where would Qudim banish him if Rune refused him his blood? To live with his mother or humans?

  Without Jessa?

  He hugged the little body close to him, and Jessa looked up with a smile.

  No. He had too much to lose. He had to take the vow. A promise of lifelong obedience. And your soul.

  Jessa gasped in time to a jolt under Rune’s chair. Glasses rattled, and the lamps swayed. But then it was over.

  Rune kissed Jessa’s head. “You’re okay, blossom.”

  “I don’t like that.”

  “Me neither. We’ll have to ask Cellina to make it stop.”

  Dawn laughed. “Cellina’s witchery is only for show, I think. She foretold I’d have only one child, and yet…”

  She patted her baby bump with a smile, and Qudim took her hand in his and kissed her fingers.

  Rune shrugged. Cellina had studied under Abadi, and Abadi was powerful. The metal of the bracelet warmed against his skin. How had Qudim survived her? He’d lived with her for years before the war. With one eye open most likely.

  Rune’s gaze drifted from Qudim’s glass to the ring on his finger. Was that it? Was the ring the source of Qudim’s strength? According to him, the Seneras had powers. “You are not like others,” he had whispered. Was that power just a myth? An aura around a vampire who had dug his own destiny out of unyielding rock?

  Rune returned to his meal, stuffing Jessa’s mouth with tarts and chocolate truffles. Gifts continued to accumulate, piling on the floor now.

  “Are you gonna open ’em?” Jessa whispered, staring with Rune across the room.

  “Not tonight.”

  “I’ll open ’em for you.”

  “You will, huh?”

  Jessa nodded and strained to reach Rune’s ear. “I love to open presents.”

  Rune bent down and whispered back, “Then I’ll have to get you some.”

  Jessa bounced. “Yessss!”

  But by the time dinner was over, Jessa was sound asleep in Rune’s arms. He passed the toddler to Dawn, who took him away. When she returned, Qudim rose. “It is time.”

  Two enforcers appeared at the King’s side and followed him into the throne room. Uriah approached Rune and led him from the hall. Behind him came the rustles and thumps of people vacating their chairs.

  The sound of falling water reached him, streams splashing over the rock wall behind Qudim’s throne. A fine mist rose in the air, and jewels glittered on the floor. Other than Qudim’s throne, there was no seating. More enforcers fanned out on either side of Qudim, who sat loose limbed and comfortable. A smile lifted the corners of his mouth.

  “Approach me.”

  Rune took several steps before he sank to his knees. “Sire.”

  He’d memorized the words he was about to say. The same words Qudim and his father before him had said. Supposedly, the first dilmenia celebration was for Lucifer’s son, the first true vampire, and Rune’s namesake.

  “You were made in the likeness of angels,” Qudim said.

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “How long ago did we fall?”

  “Ten thousand years.”

  “How far did we fall?”

  “Into the heart of the earth.”

  “Will we arise?”

  “One day.”

  “Will you guide and keep the Ellowyn until that day?”

  “Yes, Sire”

  “Will you honor me?”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  “Arise.”

  He got to his feet.

  Slowly, Qudim rose too and stepped down from the platform. His eyes held Rune’s, glowing, catching the glints of color from the misty spray of water—emerald, peridot, tourmaline. His mouth was firm, curving in another smile, lips parting to reveal his fangs, long and glistening and etched with tiny tattoos. His voice now was deep and raspy.

  “Pledge your obedience with blood or be gone.”

  “Yes, Sire,” Rune said. Though, as his words faded to silence, his arm failed to rise. The minute Qudim’s fangs bit into his arm, Rune’s will would be gone. It would be Qudim’s… forever… no matter where he went or what he did or whom he fought. No matter day or night. Moon or sun. Right or wrong.

  Pain burned the flesh under Rune’s bracelet. Never take it off.

  Was it glowing red? Branding him with his rebellion?

  How much time had passed?

  Seconds?

  Qudim merely waited.

  The pain built like a scream in his throat. A scream of rage and grief. Do it! Give him your blood!

  Follow him. Follow him when the blood flows again. Follow him!

  His lips parted.

  And the ground shook. He staggered. A thud and a scream behind him spun him around. Qudim raced past him. People stared warily at the ceiling, a crowd milling together in the center of the hall. The ground was still again.

  Dawn stood with Qudim, who whispered in her ear. She turned away and an enforcer followed her into the castle. A moment later Mal appeared at Qudim’s side and…

  Zev. Where was Zev?

  “Hear me!” Qudim commanded. “I will care for Lem Goran.”

  Goran!

  Rune pushed through the crowd.

  “Return to your homes now,” Qudim continued. “We will gather another time.”

  The crowd separated and revealed Zev on his knees on the floor, an arm under his uncle’s head as he eased him into a sitting position.

  “Forgive me,” the old vampire quavered.

  “Hush,” Qudim said,
looking down over Zev’s shoulder.

  Zev gazed up, his face ghastly in the bright green light. Addel Iyth, the Seneras’s healer, wriggled through the departing crowd. As he knelt, Rune noticed the rock that had hit the old vampire on the head. He turned his face toward the ceiling above them. Parts of the castle had been built of wood more than a hundred years ago, but the throne room had been hollowed out of solid rock with no other support.

  Were those fissures? Faint glimmering lines drank in the green light.

  A hand gripped his arm, Qudim at his side. His smile was thin and bitter. Rune’s stomach clenched. He’d failed his vow. He’d been powerless to force it. But Qudim squeezed his arm and said, “I had nothing like this drama at my dilmenia. I’d almost think your mother’s hand was in it.”

  Rune let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t think she controls the earth.”

  “Or the humans.”

  Qudim tipped his face up as though studying the activities of the people who lived on the surface.

  Was this the result of their fracking? They were leaving the mantle a honeycomb as they sucked the planet dry of oil and gas.

  “Addel will accompany the Gorans home,” Qudim said, dropping his gaze.

  “I will. They are our guests.”

  Qudim’s eyes flickered in the light. A frown puckered his brows, but he nodded. “Go then. We’ll resume this later.” He sighed and squeezed Rune’s arms. “I wished you a happier celebration.”

  “I am happy, Sire. I am loyal to you.”

  A smile crossed Qudim’s face. “Return soon.”

  “I will.”

  Zev and his cousin, Moss, helped his uncle onto their boat. Rune clambered in after them, and relief swept across Zev’s face. The boat was comfortable, the seats cushioned. Zev’s uncle lay with his head on his wife’s lap and a pained look on his face that Rune wasn’t sure was entirely from his injury. The lake rocked from the motion of the other boats heading back to the city.

  Zev’s uncle rolled his head and stared at Rune, who sat across from him. “That’s not supposed to happen.”

  Rune frowned. “Earthquakes? We’ve always had earthquakes. I’m not sure it’s humans.”

  The old vampire pointed at something beyond the canopy. Other than the flat expanse of glowing lake, there was only rock.

  “Celestine is deeper than all the cities, but the formation is natural. Air funnels for circulation and fresh water. We are warm here. Some cities are not so lucky. But in all the cities where we dig, we use rock bolts.”