Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1)

by Rebecca Grey

  The Resistance? How interesting. The group that Mica is hosting in Kaprisha, the one rising up against the crown? I mean my job…my job does entail removing the king from his throne.

  "Say more things like that." I look from one Vampire to another.

  "It's a yes or no question." Sloane interjects before her husband can say anything further.

  "No. Okay? I'm not a part of whatever this is. But I'm curious to hear more. Maybe I want to be a part of it?" That's unlikely. I'm not exactly known for taking part in Hybrid run organizations. But they'd caught me like a fish on a hook, dangling information like that. And why me? Why me alone?

  "Can we trust you, Human?"

  "Yes." No. Not really.

  "We can't share much information," Finnegan says, "but seeing as you are the Ghost, should you choose to join the group, I'd bet they'd be glad to have you. We could do some persuading to help them get over the fact that you’re just a Human."

  Get to the point. Why do these two love to hear themselves talk so very much?

  "So we'll just say that we are aware that there are those who wish to bring down the current king," Sloane says in a hushed tone.

  Like Genovese. Like Parlakey. Like Spects. Are they a part of this so-called Resistance group? That would mean, in all technicalities, I am working for this group.

  "Why would you tell me this? Why trust me with this information?” I ask.

  “There aren’t many in The Bend who support King Caspar. And a girl as angry as you… well, we know when we see someone who can keep a secret.”

  "And what am I supposed to do with that information?" I ask slowly.

  "Do with it what you will. Think about it." They say in unison before they smile at one another and take off in a race toward the ship.

  I stare at them until they disappear. Even then I stare at the spots in the fog where I imagine they would be. Oh, I'll think about it alright. I'll overthink on it until I've beat the idea black and blue and come to a thousand different conclusions. Thanks for that, you damn fucking vamps.

  The dark underside of the ship, where the crew sleeps, smells like sweat and piss. I swear the hairs inside of my nose are burning away. Somehow, I'm the only one affected by the putrid air. Everyone else sits, content as can be, in a circle on the floor. I press my back against the wall and look over the top of my cards.

  Hedda smiles lightly, holding her hand against her chest. Juilliard, next to her, stares down at his hand with a blank face. Of all of them, he probably has the best poker face. Too bad he has other tells that can be picked up on. Like the way that, when he has a good hand, he leans back a little bit to make it harder for anyone to see his cards. Or when he has a bad hand he starts to pick at his nails or folds his cards and holds them in his lap instead of staring them down. He must have a pretty good hand.

  Both Sloane and Finnegan have chosen to share a hand. They're a tangle of limbs and giggles. Which doesn't necessarily mean anything, I've found. I'm not actually sure they know how to play this game. Between Juilliard and I, Marcello has a foot curled underneath him and one leg propped up. His arm is wrapped around his knee and he leans into himself, keeping his cards blocked from my view.

  I toss a couple coins into the pot and look out the small window where I can see the outline of a city. The only thing keeping me in my seat is my need to win another game so that Marcello and I won't be tied for the most games won at this point. The land we're so close to… that's The Oasis. Another night has come and passed where I tossed and turned on that old mattress. With it some of my will to remain distant. That's the only explanation for how they talked me into playing with them at all.

  I suppose the real joke is on them, because I've been watching Hybrids play for years. At this point I know all their tricks. Even joined a game or two with Joss around, just to make the other mercenaries shut the hell up.

  My gaze is still drawn out the windows. I can feel how close to the city we are in my very bones. Electric and shining. Just sitting still is an effort. The sun shines off a mirrored building, so far away. Occasionally a boat floats by, blocking the view as we enter the bay. The cards are a distraction as much as they are supposed to be a team building exercise. I'm not sure how competing against one another is supposed to bring us closer. All it's done for me is helped me see their weaknesses, and their little ticks. Maybe that's what they've been looking for in me too.

  "Captain Marcello, we are about to pull up to dock," one of the crew members calls down the stairs.

  Marcello folds his hand and looks over his shoulder. When he turns back his face isn't a mask of boredom any longer, but an ear to ear grin. "Should we just say that I've won then?"

  "What?" I sputter, nearly throwing my whole hand down. I manage to keep the cards still hidden and in my grasp, but only slightly as a few tip and tilt with the illusion they'll fall. "Why are we saying that you've won? I've done just as well as you."

  "If it's so important to you, then I guess we can say that you've won." Tossing his cards into the middle, he scoots the small pile of coins toward me. We'd played with the meager amount of change to begin with.

  Nope, I don't like that.

  "I don't want a pity win!" But I do want the win. "Can't you admit that I'm playing better than you?"

  "If you'd like that, yes." He stands and straightens his attire, taking the time to roll his sleeves so that his forearms are exposed.

  I stare at his arms. I'm not sure if it's a Human weakness or just one of the general population, but there's something about a man’s forearms that's wildly sexy. I'd probably be more inclined to marvel at the perfection of his body a moment longer if the words he's saying didn't make me want to spit on his fancy boots.

  "Stop saying 'if I'd like that'. Do you think I deserve to win?"

  "Oh, I think everyone deserves to win, Nils." He smirks with only one half of his mouth.

  "Wow, okay. Then let’s just say that everyone wins and split the money evenly." I set my hand down against the ground and start sorting out the coins into six little piles. It's only like five coins for each of us, not enough to buy anything worthwhile.

  "Now you're thinking," he winks and heads for the stairs. He stops at the bottom step, spinning to face us. "I'll have the crew carry all of your bags into the hosting hotel. You'll all need to make it to your rooms, get changed and ready for the welcome party."

  "No one told me I had to attend a party," I mutter, pushing the piles to everyone who's still sitting.

  "Well I'm sure you'll look grand in an evening dress." Marcello deadpans before he takes the stairs two at a time and disappears to the top of the deck.

  "This party will be good for you, I think." Juilliard pockets his change and snatches up the pile meant for Marcello too. I won’t be surprised if he keeps both for himself. "Once we enter, everyone is protected under the order of the king. That means no tasting," he looks at Sloane and Finnegan, "no attempts at sabotaging another team before we've even begun. Now once the games commence, free reign. But tonight... you can do whatever it is that you please without there being a threat to your life."

  "Oh, that sounds lovely, we can be whoever we want to be for one whole night." Sloane rises with the help of Finnegan and they move across the floor, following Marcello's path. Juilliard stands, staring down at me.

  I look back to the window I so desperately want to press my face against. His words should be freeing. Like Sloane said... I can be whoever I wish to be tonight. The only problem is I don't hardly even know who I am. Who am I outside of hiding in the shadows and killing Hybrids?

  "Come on. You're going to love it here," he says a little softer.

  "Do you and Marcello love it here?" I drag my face up to him and stare. His fingers find the edge of his shirt and he fiddles with the hem, not talking. The last of the legends are cold against my palm as I grab them up and push myself to standing.

  "Not exactly, but it's better than The Bend. There are plenty of amazing things th
at exist in The Oasis. Just because we don't agree with a few things doesn't mean that as a whole it isn't still good. Let me show what you've been missing all these years."

  So much. I know it.

  When he turns away, I follow. The smell of cigarettes on the cloak I've stolen from him has faded, but it still clings like a fog around Juilliard himself. It stings in the back of my throat with every step I take up to the deck behind him.

  "Do you ever think that you should maybe put on some sort of cologne or something to cover up the stench of your incessant smoking?" I cough.

  "Normally, I would." He looks over his shoulder as he reaches the top of the stairs and the evening sun hits his face. "But if I have to hang out with all of you, who live in The Bend anyway and don't even know what a shower is, you can deal with my scent too."

  My eyes grow wide. Oh no. Do I smell? I mean, it's been days on this boat and I'm no stranger to sweating. I want to growl something back up to him, I mean to, but when I hear birds chirping and the ringing of a bell as another boat pulls to dock, I turn to see the city.

  When the dock ends a smooth cement path begins. No gravel, no garbage, no frowning angry Hybrids. A banner is strung between two tall poles, I assume with some sort of welcome, because black and gold balloons are tied almost everywhere they possibly can be. A few of Marcello's crew members walk under the banner carrying my trunk down the long walkway leading to a round building that takes up most of my view. It rises ten stories into the air.

  The path leads to one building. Perfect painted stone rises several stories up into the air. The building rounds in a large circle. Each window is arched, tinted so we see only the reflection of what’s outside and not what waits for us within. Two large black glossy doors are propped open, balloons tied on their knobs too. Hybrids of all kinds flow in and out.

  I see all of the main species, everyone I'm familiar with. Vampires, Elves, Orcs, and Dwarfs. Then, sprinkled in are lesser species I'm not as familiar with. Hybrids with horns, Hybrids with scales, Hybrids that look like Humans except for the glaringly obvious fact that their skin is made up of tree bark, probably Dryad.

  It's not just the mix of species gathered all in one place for this large event that I've yet to be introduced to that makes my feet catch against the ground. The city rises up all around us. Buildings made almost entirely of glass, of... mirrors, reflect the momentous occasion that is The Oasis Games. There aren’t any shattered windows. Nothing looks broken, rusted or even as if at any moment it could cave right in. And there are so many buildings. Big, small, and all the sizes in-between crammed against one another.

  I've been to The Oasis before. The one time I walked their home dotted streets. It was nothing, nothing, like this. My breath is stolen from my chest, alarm bells ring inside of my head. This place isn't only beautiful, it's deadly for someone like me.

  When my feet tangle under me again as I'm spinning in every direction trying to soak it all in, Marcello's arm grips my elbow. Not only can I smell his candy scent, but the air here is... it's the best air I've ever breathed.

  "Are you okay?" he says. "Is it the large group of Hybrids that makes you nervous? I can promise you as my guest and a participant in this game that no one here can touch you until the Games themselves begin. And even then, I won't allow it."

  "No, it isn't that," I mumble, shaking him off my arm. He stays near me as we walk under the large banner and I breathe, "What did that say?"

  I'm not sure if I can believe Marcello and Juilliard's promise. In my experience Hybrids lie. And isn't that a rule that I have made myself follow for years? Isn't that a rule that's kept me alive thus far? Don't trust anyone, Nilsa. I can't trust him, I can't trust his friend, and currently I'm not sure if I can even trust myself.

  The amount of muddled Immortal bloodlines that pass us by is a threat to my own very existence. I know that. Marcello himself doesn't, I truly don't believe that he does. But it's not that pressure that makes my movements stiff and has me noticing where all the shadows start and stop. It's The Oasis. It's—It’s everything. Bigger than I imagined, grander than my wildest dreams.

  Is this what The Bend had looked like before the wars? Had buildings been pressed against buildings and nothing laid to waste?

  "Oh, it says 'Welcome to Saymar'," Marcello answers and I have to pull my attention away from the city itself.

  "And what is Saymar, again?" I whisper, my voice hoarse.

  "Don't touch your daggers, Nilsa," Marcello says under his breath.

  I look up at him, but he keeps his face pointed forward. My thumbs track over the hilts of my daggers. In all of the excitement I hadn't noticed that I'd been reaching for them or that I am so close to wrapping my fists around them.

  "Nervous habit." I drop my hands to my side and cast my gaze down.

  "They might see it as a sign that you're not willing to follow the rules, get you kicked out of the Games before they have even begun. It's necessary you stay, you're important to our team." Juilliard stops just before the doors and waves at us. Marcello continues, "Saymar is the name of the city."

  "You call it something other than The Oasis? You give particular areas different names?" I blink. Can The Oasis truly be that big?

  There are clusters of creatures in The Bend. I suppose I see them as different cities, but none of it is known by any particular name. Everything in The Bend just falls under one big umbrella. We label our districts, but that's it.

  "Yes, we have many cities in The Oasis, all with their own names. Saymar is our capital. So welcome, Nilsa Windsor, to the capital of The Oasis." He lifts an arm out and gestures at the city. "Maybe we can explore the city together after all this is over."

  I'd never thought about it before. But after this is over, when I have money, when I have power, I'd very much like that. Marcello won't be around for it, but I don't have to tell him that. Or maybe he could show me around before I take him out. It's the least he could do for me, really.

  Both Juilliard and Hedda are standing at the doors waiting for us now. My steps are slow so I can marvel at everything for as long as I can. And so I can count the windows and look for any further exits from the building and where they may lead to. There are more windows than I can count and really only one door. Which doesn't bode well for me.

  "We need the tickets." Juilliard runs a hand through his hair.

  Two men stand in head to toe shining silver armor, expensive looking armor. They are the one's taking the tickets, counting the heads, and sending anyone away that doesn't have permission to attend. One holds his hand out for Marcello now.

  "Where are Sloane and Finnegan? I thought they were with you two?" Marcello digs inside his collar. "I just saw them, I swear."

  "I'm not the mother hen of this group. I think as the leader that falls under your wing." Juilliard scowls, leaning around us to look around. I turn around to see if I can spot them. As much as I'd rather learn more about this city, standing out in the open like this makes my stomach churn with unwanted nerves.

  Marcello hands the tickets to the guard, stepping around us to talk into the man’s ear. I'm still scanning the crowd, my eyes leaping over fangs, gray skin, glowing eyes, round ears, and otherwise furry creatures. Wait... round ears? A man, with brown hair that holds a streak of gray in it, talks with a Dwarf. His hands cut through the air as he talks animatedly. I try to get a better look at him, to see if his eyes glow red and I've just mistaken a Vampire for a Human.

  As if he feels my eyes on him, he turns still talking and I feel his gaze drift over me. Brown eyes. He has brown, very Human eyes. I reach out without looking, grabbing Marcello's forearm. His head turns and he looks down at my hand.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Wait for me," I snap before my feet carry me forward and I can do anything else.

  I meld into the crowd, stopped by a hand on my shoulder. Stopping myself short of ripping the blades from my belt, I swivel to find Marcello's mouth puckered.

  "You can't
just run off Nilsa," he warns.

  "I'm not running off. And I'm not a child you have to watch." I take another step forward out of his reach. He fists his hand and drops it to his side. "I'll be right back."

  "You have two minutes.”

  I expect that after he heads back for Juilliard and Hedda or even to go looking for either Sloane or Finnegan, but I don't wait to find out. I march through the throngs of Hybrids making their way past the guards and into the building, narrowly missing the shoulders of those who don't make way for me. The Human man keeps watching me during his conversation, aware of the way I'm streamlining toward him. To be alive he'd have to be some sort of observant.

  When I'm close enough to take in every little sign of his aging, I realize he isn't as old as the slash of gray in his hair makes him appear. Or at least there aren't nearly as many wrinkles and fine lines as I expected. With a flick of my wrist, I toss my hood of my head and let the sunshine down on me. My fingers brush the silky strands of hair that have fallen out and I push them behind my telling round ears.

  "Another Human?" I say as soon as I get close enough I know he'll be able to hear me.

  The conversation with the Dwarf comes to an end as he stares back at me in disbelief. "I thought I was the last of my kind."

  "You're the first I've seen in years," I tell him as a genuine smile cuts across my face. I don't remember the last time that I smiled. Not like this. Not a full grin that isn’t created by bloodshed.

  "Where?" He shakes his head and reaches a hand out toward my face. I don't step out of his reach and his hand is rough against my skin, warm. "Where have you been?"

  "The Bend," I manage even though my throat feels like sandpaper. "Are you playing in The Oasis Games?"

  "Nilsa!" Marcello calls before the man can answer.

  "Nilsa..." he says slowly, tasting every letter, "Your name is Nilsa."

  "I-ah," I start but Marcello hollers my name through the crowd once more and I know my time is coming to an end. That could not have been two minutes, I’m sure. "Yes." Marcello's voice calls me back, my feet edging toward the sound. "And you are?"