Bonds of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 7)

by Bella Klaus

  “Have you gone mental, woman?” he asked.

  I shook my head. “Just a little lightheaded from the news. Could you help me inside and tell me what happened?”

  The Shifter King stared down at me with furrowed brows, but he nodded and helped me the rest of the way up the stairs.

  My limbs wouldn’t stop trembling, both out of relief and the lingering shock of thinking something terrible really had happened to Valentine. I supposed I hadn’t fully considered how the Council might interpret the burned prison.

  One of the footmen led us to the same parlor room from before, and another served the most elaborate ploughman’s lunch. It usually came with just bread, cheese, pickles, boiled eggs, and a few slices of cooked meat, but the palace’s version added whole tomatoes, sausage rolls, Cornish pasties, and a pork pie the size of a birthday cake.

  This had to be the kind of food Beowulf enjoyed, because it was similar to the fare I’d gotten at his hideout.

  The Shifter King ate a large slice of pork pie in silence, his gaze sliding over to me fumbling with a pickle and a slice of cheddar. He probably thought I was still in shock, but I didn’t know what to say in case Valentine wanted to take advantage of being ‘dead’ until we got rid of Kresnik.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” I asked, loud enough to be heard by anyone eavesdropping in the hallway.

  “One of the guards had tampered with the alarms.” He took a huge bite of pie and chewed. “It wasn’t until smoke filled the hallways that someone finally reported a fire.”

  I nodded, urging him to continue.

  “Emergency enforcers found one of the lieutenants murdered in the corridor leading to King Valentine’s cell. Its interior was reduced to ash. Forensics say there are traces of burned flesh, but the remains are too degraded for magical analysis.”

  I pried open a bun with my hands and slathered its interior with piccalilli, a mustardy relish of pickled vegetables. That wasn’t surprising, since phoenix flames burned hotter than any other. “Who was the assassin?”

  “Lieutenant Herbert Cien,” he snarled. “A shadow mage who served fifty years as a sergeant before getting promoted, and another sixty years before that. His performance was unremarkable and showed no discipline issues or subversive behavior.”

  “What about the other man who escorted me to the cell?” I popped a slice of cheddar into the roll and compressed the bread with my fingers.

  “Thierry Hessonite,” he replied. “An up-and-coming lieutenant who was also a shadow mage. He was the one found murdered by the exit.”

  I took a bite of the cheese and pickle open sandwich. “So, Lieutenant Cien killed his partner so he could get at Valentine?”

  “All evidence points to that.” Beowulf’s thick brows drew together. “Did Cien exhibit any strange behavior when he escorted you to and from King Valentine’s cell?”

  “Apart from a bit of innuendo about a conjugal visit, no.” I stared at my lap.

  Every fiber of my being wanted to blurt that he’d been employed by Prince Draconius to murder his own nephew and make him rise as a preternatural, but I held my tongue.

  “I hoped that you had started the fire as a ruse to help him escape.” The Shifter King leaned close, his gaze penetrating. “King Valentine always seemed to be able to rise above anything, even death.”

  I bit down on my lip and squirmed. He knew I was hiding something… or at least he hoped. I hoped he was too good a friend to press for information. “What are the others on the Supernatural Council saying?”

  “The bastards are all talking like they never suspected him of being associated with Kresnik.”

  “Right,” I muttered. They were probably feeling sheepish at having failed to protect a man they’d condemned for the stupidest suspicion. Hades was probably laughing his ass off at having finally gotten rid of Valentine.

  “What do you want me to do about the boy?” he asked.

  My head snapped up. “Kain?”

  He inclined his head. “Prince Draconius is already pushing to put him on the throne.”

  I rolled my eyes and sighed. “Of course he would.”

  The door opened, and Valentine strode inside, holding the trident. “I’m sorry for causing you worry, my friend.”

  Beowulf rose off his armchair and bellowed with laughter. “I knew you couldn’t be bested by a shadow mage.”

  As the two monarchs exchanged manly hugs, some of the tension around my insides eased, and I took a few bites of my cheese roll. Withholding the truth from Beowulf had felt awkward, considering that he seemed to be Valentine’s only true ally in the Supernatural Council.

  For reasons I couldn’t fathom, Hades seemed to be able to influence everyone else, including the Angel King, into siding against Valentine. Only Beowulf ever saw through his manipulation and had the courage to call him out.

  Valentine and Beowulf lowered themselves into leather seats and helped themselves to the ploughman’s lunch. One of the footmen brought beer in pewter tankards for the kings and prosecco in a champagne flute for me.

  Beowulf downed his beer in a long gulp and set down his tankard, only for a servant to replace it with a fresh drink. “You know of the Council’s challenge?”

  Valentine nodded. “Mera has identified a number of ways to defeat Kresnik.”

  The Shifter King glanced at me with his brows raised.

  I sat straighter in my seat and preened. “There are only a few ways to kill an immortal Greek god, and most of them involve dipping weapons in the bodily fluids of another equally powerful deity.”

  Beowulf picked up his fresh tankard, this time only drinking half its contents. “What do you mean?”

  “Blood, bile, and the bone of a god can kill another.” I picked up a sausage roll and took a large bite of spicy sausage meat encased in crumbly pastry.

  “Where will you find anything like that?” he asked.

  “Mera collected the bile of a Titan named Python.” Valentine raised his tankard to his lips.

  I nodded my thanks at Valentine for saving me from having to answer with my mouth full and washed down my sausage roll with a long sip of prosecco. Its honeysuckle and honeydew aromas filled my nostrils, and I hummed my appreciation as the cool and bubbly liquid slid down my throat.

  “The trident Valentine came in with is ancient and could possibly work against Kresnik, but I also have a reaper’s scythe I can infuse with phoenix flames.”

  Beowulf grunted his approval. “Won’t your flames make him rise from his ashes?”

  I shook my head. “Someone assured me that the scythe will send him to his certain death, but I’ve also commissioned some ward masters to create vessels to hold his body parts for an eternity.”

  The Shifter King turned to Valentine and grinned. “You have a resourceful female!”

  “One of the benefits of vampire society is that both our male and female members provide an equal contribution to our success.”

  “That’s because there are so few of you.” The Shifter King downed the rest of his beer.

  I exhaled a long sigh. Beowulf either didn’t get the hint or was subtly telling Valentine that he didn’t believe in gender equality for shifters.

  A knock sounded on the door, and Caiman stepped into the parlor, his posture rigid. “My Lady, we’ve just received a delivery for you containing spheres.”

  “Excellent.” I turned to Valentine and grinned. “Those are the vessels I was telling you about.”

  “There is another matter.” The butler cleared his throat. “The Demon King is here with a bunch of flowers. He says the matter is of the utmost importance.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I twisted around on the leather armchair with my lips pursed and my teeth clenched hard enough to crack their enamel. Of course Hades would track me down to the palace. He probably put Prince Draconius in contact with the assassin.

  “What are we going to do about him?” My gaze darted to Valentine, who had barely touched
his tankard of beer.

  Valentine rose from his seat and picked up the trident. “Send him to the dueling room.”

  Beowulf grunted with approval. “You’re going to duel the Demon King.”

  “I’m not going to give him the chance to wriggle out of a fight, but first, I need to know the depth of his treachery.” Valentine’s gaze shifted to me, his violet eyes turning red. “Can you face him?”

  “I can do more than that.” I rose off the seat, my fingers drifting toward the pocket where I kept the miniature scythe.

  “No.” Valentine raised a hand. “I wish to settle this matter with my own hands.”

  I nodded. It seemed fitting considering I hadn’t given Valentine the opportunity to get revenge on the Mage King. “Alright then. I’ll go in and see Hades, ask him what happened, and work out if he was involved with organizing the assassination.”

  Valentine inclined his head.

  “I’ll provide backup.” Beowulf rose from his seat and folded his arms across his broad chest.

  Valentine frowned. “What I’m about to do is tantamount to treason. I would rather not get you involved in the murder of the Demon King.”

  Beowulf’s features hardened, and he looked like he was about to protest. A heartbeat later, his shoulders sagged a few inches, and he grunted an agreement. “I will leave, then. What do you want me to do about your ward?”

  “Bring him to the palace, please,” said Valentine.

  The Shifter King inclined his head and walked to the door. “Good luck.”

  While Valentine disappeared to put on some armor, Caiman walked me around the other side of the palace to the dueling room, which looked the same as any other parlor except for the paintings on the wall. Instead of Valentine’s ancestors clad in velvets and silks, they each wore leather armor and scowls.

  I lowered myself into a wooden-framed sofa that felt like it had been upholstered with straw and winced.

  A decanter of red wine sat on the table with two crystal glasses, although I wasn’t quite sure what kind of alcoholic beverage was the exact color and consistency of blood. I let my gaze drift away from the sight. It was probably something symbolic and related to making enemies bleed.

  The door swung open, and Caiman stepped inside. “His Majesty, the Demon King, My Lady.”

  My pulse quickened to the beat of my fury, and I rose off the uncomfortable sofa with my teeth clenched. It was going to be near impossible to act normal with Hades, but if Valentine wanted to know the extent of his guilt before attacking, I would have to remain calm.

  Hades stepped through the door, carrying a bouquet of white orchids. “Mera,” he said with his eyebrows drawn together. “I heard the news, and I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “May I take the flowers, Your Majesty?” asked Caiman.

  The Demon King’s gaze didn’t waver from mine. “Leave us.”

  Caiman inclined his head and stepped out of the room.

  My throat dried. I straightened, inhaled a deep breath, and pulled back my shoulders. This wasn’t the first time I’d been alone with Hades, but it was the first time with Valentine within earshot. He still didn’t know the full amount of Hades’ desperate attempts at seduction, and I hoped the Demon King wouldn’t try anything stupid.

  “What do you want?” I asked.

  “I came to offer my condolences,” he said.

  “Because Nut and Geb haven’t eaten me yet?” I snapped.

  Hades paused for a moment, his brows furrowing as though he wasn’t sure what I was talking about. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Do you have amnesia?” I said. “The two demon bodyguards who wanted to eat my organs. You laughed and said you’d strip out my phoenix when I reached Hell.”

  He placed a hand on his cheek and frowned. “I do recall saying those words. However, I also recall a certain young woman comparing me unfavorably to an eviscerated corpse.”

  “So that makes us even?”

  Hades lowered his lashes. “I am truly sorry for not intervening. My heart was broken at your rejection, and my spirit wallowed in the pits of despair. A mere hour before you rejected me, Coral told me for the seventh time to leave her alone.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Because you lied about your identity and abducted an entire generation of escaped fire users to Hell?”

  Hades sniffed. “I only meant to keep them out of Kresnik’s hands.”

  Smoky magic curled around my wrist. It was just the gentlest touch, but enough to remind me of Valentine’s presence. He was probably sick of listening to Hades’ pathetic excuses and wanted me to get to the point.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Wipe away the crocodile tears and tell me why you’re here.”

  His eyes widened. “Have you heard?”

  “You could be talking about any number of things,” I said, feigning boredom. “Why did you bring those flowers?”

  “King Valentine perished in a fire earlier today. I tried searching for you, but some force of magic blocked me from tracking your location.”

  I swallowed hard and placed a hand over my heart chakra. Perhaps there was more to Sybil’s shack than its surprisingly pristine interior. If the woman could block the efforts of the Demon King, then maybe the treatment she had performed on me to weaken my bond with Kresnik might work.

  Hades stepped closer. Sympathy shone in his eyes, and one of his arms drifted out.

  I walked to the other side of the sofa, even though the effort of putting a large piece of furniture between myself and a being who could teleport would be futile. “Why are you still here?”

  “To offer you a shoulder to cry on.” He placed the flowers on the coffee table and walked toward me with both arms outstretched.

  “Wait.” I raised a palm.

  “Aren’t you grieving?” He stared down at me with a frown. “King Valentine is dead.”

  I raised another palm.

  “Miss Griffin—”

  “That’s it?” I asked. “How do you know he’s dead?”

  Hades stepped back and frowned. “Denial is the first stage of grief, but you have to know that one of the prison guards murdered a colleague to carry out the assassination.”

  “Who sent him?” I asked. “You?”

  He shook his head. “Prince Draconius is a desperate vampire, bent on taking King Valentine’s throne.”

  “How do you know it was him?” I reached into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around the hilt of the dagger.

  “When forensic wizards found the remains of flesh burned beyond recognition, Prince Draconius approached me and boasted about clearing the throne for himself.”

  “Did you report him?”

  “I came straight here because you would need protection from his attempts to bring you to heel.” Hades placed a hand on his chest. “Tell me what you want, Miss Griffin. If you wish to cleave Prince Draconius in half, I will make that happen. If you want to make love in a pool of his blood, I will satisfy your every desire—”

  Hades’ eyes widened, and he glanced down to find three arrow-shaped spikes protruding from his chest. His lips parted, releasing rivulets of blood. “What is the meaning of this?”

  I kept my gaze on his eyes. “Did you know Prince Draconius would send an assassin?”

  He reached behind his back. “Miss Griffin?”

  I tilted my head to the side, feigning innocence. “What’s wrong?”

  “I appear to be impaled by a trident,” he said through clenched teeth.

  “Did you know Prince Draconius was plotting against Valentine?” I folded my arms across my chest.

  His eyes bulged. “What?”

  “Answer my question,” I snarled.

  Hades twisted from side to side, trying to reach the handle of the weapon, but Valentine had wedged it so deeply through his torso that removing it from that angle would cause even more pain and damage. He turned around, pointing at the trident protruding from his shoulder blades. “Pull it out.”

 
“Answer my question,” I snapped.

  He staggered toward the door, casting me a shocked glance. “I don’t know how you’re doing this or why—”

  Valentine appeared between Hades and the exit. “The lady asked you a question,” he said with a growl. “How much did you know about the assassination beforehand?”

  “King Valentine,” Hades spluttered. “It would appear that rumors of your immolation have been greatly exaggerated. I trust you are the bastard who stabbed me in the back?”

  “I’m merely returning the favor.” Valentine grabbed the trident’s handle and pushed down.

  With a howl that made the dagger slip from my fingers and fall to the bloody floor with a clatter, Hades dropped to his knees. “Alright.” Blood poured from his lips. “I’ll talk.”

  “How do we know that whatever you’ll say next will be the truth?” I reached down and picked up the dagger.

  “How can I lie to you with Poseidon’s bloody trident grazing my heart?”

  Valentine and I exchanged glances, and my heart skipped. Of course, Hades could recognize the weapons of the Greek gods.

  “Are you sure?” I crossed the room, bending down to meet his darkened eyes.

  “Am I sure that the sanctimonious, water-based magic polluting mine belongs to my worthless brother, or am I sure that it’s mere inches away from my second-most vital organ?”

  My lips formed a tight line, and I resisted the urge to ask which organ he considered his most vital. The Demon King would probably make some kind of innuendo that would get himself killed.

  “Answer the question,” I said. “Did you know Prince Draconius would attempt to murder Valentine?”

  Hades’ shoulders sagged. “It was obvious that he would try. Now that he’s no longer associated with the Royal House, he’s alone, destitute, and quite desperate.”

  The door opened, and Caiman stepped in, holding a bottle of green liquid on a silver tray. “The poisons master I consulted managed to infuse the snake bile with a solvent that enhances its potency. Perhaps now is the opportunity to test its efficacy?”

  My stomach twisted into knots. It was one thing to attack Hades when we thought he’d arranged the assassination, another thing to challenge him to a duel, but poisoning him with snake bile bordered on cold-blooded murder.