by Emily Inskip
Amara braced her arms on her hips, her cream dress blowing around her in the spring wind.
Nadia only shook her head, blinking away the tears. “I—If people find out, I’ll be used for my powers for the rest of my life. I’ll become more of a slave than I already am.” She dropped her gaze to the floor.
“But your gift—”
“It’s not a gift,” Nadia said. “It’s a curse.”
Amara was quiet for a moment, trying to ignore the thrill of knowing a witch was in her presence. She’d met a few in the past, Tanya, Fenn’s wife, included. But she always found their power incredible.
While Amara and other vampires found their strength in death, witches found theirs in life. Born with magic built within their bones.
Power was hereditary for witches; it would run in bloodlines for generations . . .
Amara chewed her lip. “You said you had a sister.”
Nadia’s throat bobbed, but she nodded, still not looking up from the grass. “I had a twin sister, Olena. She died when I was nine, before I was able to control my magic. She was always more powerful than me, ever since we were born. She made everything I did look like nothing in comparison to what she could do.”
Amara moved to perch on a mossy tree stump before motioning Nadia to join her. Silently, Nadia followed, sitting down beside her before playing with the cotton apron in her lap.
“Olena was gifted with more power than ever seen before. And as you could imagine, it didn’t go unnoticed. A wealthy lord promised her riches and jewels, more than she could ever want, in return for her services. I told her not to go, that it was a bad idea, but she didn’t listen. And she signed her life away. Olena moved to his estate to live with his family. She performed simple spells like healing their wounds and bringing good harvests to their land, but one day they pushed her too far . . .”
Nadia let out a small strangled sound at the back of her throat, so quiet, no one else would have heard it. Her shoulders seemed to curve as she clasped her hands in her lap, picking at her fingernails.
“People can’t find out about me, or my powers. I’d rather go unnoticed as a servant than suffer in the same way my sister did,” she whispered.
Amara straightened, pressing her palms into crisping wood as Nadia choked on a sob. Silence was the greatest gift Amara could offer. She knew the pain of loss, and no matter how hard she tried, her mind couldn’t stop wandering back to Fenn.
Where was he?
“I’m sorry,” Amara said quietly. “You don’t have to worry about people knowing. I won’t tell a soul.”
Nadia gave her a grateful nod, her eyes still tinged red as she pushed off the log and got to her feet.
She tried for a smile. “I best go now.”
“Of course,” was all Amara replied, noticing as the trees suddenly seemed so much darker than before. Even the wind began to hiss through the budding spring leaves. Nature had its way of telling when a conversation should end.
Nadia didn’t bother to gather her skirts before making her way along the grassy path back up towards Winvaris.
“Thank you for last night,” her small voice called out from ahead. “I owe you a debt, Lady Lynessa. I won’t forget what you did for me.”
Amara opened her mouth to reply, but Nadia had already disappeared amongst the maze of tree and shadow.
19
Even Amara was beginning to have enough of the sunlight when she strolled for the castle doors.
It was an effort not to fall into her usual swaggering gait. Less elegant and ladylike, more feline and predatory.
She hated having to put on an act.
Amara had spent centuries honing her actions, learning the ways her body moved, her strengths and her limits. Which were near to none.
But now she had to sport a highly impractical gown which hindered her every movement. It was ridiculous . . . Even if she did look rather stunning in the outfit.
Amara noticed the way the guards had to try hard not to admire her as she waltzed past them. It put a smile on her face that was hard to wipe.
As she made her way up the sweeping marble staircase towards the doors, Amara made sure to wink at the sentries stationed ahead of her. Almost immediately, they straightened at their post. She could practically hear their fragile heartbeats pick up at the mere sight of her.
Amara rolled her eyes. Fools.
In the past, she had used male stupidity to her advantage. Used it to lure them away, to make sure no one was around when she ripped through their throats.
The thought was tempting, even now.
“Good day,” she smiled, tossing a sheet of dark hair over her shoulder.
The guards only offered her a tight nod as she passed them, their metal armour clinking as they readjusted their stance.
Amara was glad to be out of the blistering heat as she crossed over the threshold and into the gilded hallways of Winvaris. And she would’ve been eager to remain there, except something had her turning on her heels and whirling back towards the garden.
She didn’t expect her ears to prick when they did. Or the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end. But Amara couldn’t explain the twinge in her gut.
It was an indescribable feeling, but she knew something was wrong. And that something was watching her . . . and it didn’t want to be seen.
She was too distracted to spare the guards a glance as she stalked back down the stairs, following the pulse of power that set her senses on fire.
Every part of her felt off, as though she was wreathed in a shroud of static energy. Blood rushed in her ears. Her nostrils flared. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Her mind pulsed.
She didn’t know what to expect as she neared the shadowy hedge grove, following that thread of horrific power. The very marrow of her bones protested, warned her to turn around, to walk away. Whatever it was, it’s darkness and power was deeper than hers. If she was the shadow, then it was the void even gods were afraid of.
Her muscles stung with an invisible strain as if even her own dark power was repulsed by the force within the hedges. Not today, she growled back.
Even in the shade of the willow trees, Amara could still make out the dark shape moving amidst the leaves. It stilled when she approached, and she could have sworn her dormant heart stuttered.
It was in moments like these that she wished for the familiar weight of her hunting knives, or the curved daggers she used to hide within the soles of her boots. Even a butter knife from the goddamned silver tray service would be better than being completely unarmed. She wasn’t used to feeling defenceless. But Amara didn’t need a weapon—
She was the weapon.
Chilling winds from the mountain peaks blasted through the gardens making the trees sway in a chorus of whispers. Amara curled her fists at her sides, bracing herself as the sunlight guttered, blocked by a cluster of darkened clouds.
Amara took a tentative step forward, the dark form still frozen amongst the leaves. Maybe if she was slow enough, she could lunge and startle it, giving her just enough time to take it down. But she had never dealt with a force like this before, and the thought chilled her to the bone.
It wasn’t often that Amara Vanderlore didn’t know what to do, but luckily enough, she was goddamned good at improvising.
Slowly, she reached out an arm then—
Something small and cold gripped her wrist from behind. She barely had time to register what it was before she whirled, fangs bared, ready to kill. She ripped her hand away. Amara couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, only her vicious, instinctive panting filled her ears.
“Lady?” A small, high-pitched voice sounded.
It took a second for Amara’s vision to clear before she realised who, exactly, had grabbed her. “Gods, what is wrong with you, child?”
She glared down at Princess Enid now lying back on the grass, propped up on her elbows. It looked as though the girl had fallen.
Had she done that? A flicker of guilt panged in Amar
a’s gut but it quickly disappeared as soon as a wide grin appeared on the little Princess’ face.
“You’ve got sharp teeth,” Enid simply said, seemingly unfazed by Amara’s loss of control, and the two sharp canines still protruding her lips.
Amara narrowed her eyes. “All the better for eating children like you.”
Sunlight now gilded the gardens once more, gone were the blackening clouds that had gathered in the skies above. Amara twisted back to hedges, but nothing could be seen. No darkness. No evil. Whatever it was, had gone.
But that didn’t mean Amara would let her guard down just yet.
Enid giggled, her rosy cheeks glowing. “You’re very funny, Lady.”
Funny? Amara thought. She had been called many things in the past, but never once had she been called funny.
“You’re not scared of me?”
“Why would I be?”
Amara hesitated. “Because most people are.”
Enid’s grin only grew as she got to her feet, brushing off the soil that dusted her blush-pink gown. “Well most people are cowards,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I’m not, though.”
Amara’s eyes still lingered on the bushes as she said, “That makes you very foolish indeed.”
She scanned the perimeter, her attention darting to every corner, every pathway and willow tree. Yet nothing could be found. The guards stationed at the top of the stairway didn’t seem to be on alert as they stood aimlessly, staring towards nothing in particular.
Enid frowned, crossing her arms. Her hair was a pile of scruffy red curls upon her head that shifted every so often in the spring breeze. “Well, mother said it makes me brave.”
Amara lifted a brow, her attention falling back to the Princess. “And bravery gets you killed,” she snarled, flashing her teeth again, hoping to make the little girl squirm.
“You don’t frighten me and you’re definitely not scary,” Enid said, tilting her chin up. “In fact, you are rather the opposite.”
“And you are getting on my last nerve. Leave before I hang you from the castle walls by your ears.”
Enid’s smile didn’t falter for a second, and it made Amara truly consider her last threat. She rolled her eyes at the young princess. Stubborn vermin.
Amara glared at Enid.
Enid glared back.
Silence settled between them as Amara waited for the princess to give up and scurry away. Yet she remained standing, arms tight across her chest. And all Amara wanted to do was wipe that stupid grin off the child’s face. It was an effort not to.
“Well, if you’re not leaving,” Amara said at last. “Then I will.”
She started off back towards the doors of Winvaris.
Damn whatever evil was roaming these gardens, Amara didn’t care for that any more. If it attacked, then hopefully those useless palace guards would get what they deserved. They needed to learn what it was like to face true danger, not just rowdy lords on their way back from the ball.
“Wait,” Enid called after, but Amara pretended not to notice.
She hurried towards the stairs, her careful footsteps barely making a sound.
“Amara, wait!”
Now, that made Amara freeze at the bottom of the stairs.
“Why did you just call me that?” Her voice was harder and colder than she’d meant it to be. But she needed to know how the Princess of Esteria knew her real name.
Enid caught up to her beside the marble steps, wisps of her wild hair blowing freely across her face. “I’m sorry,” she breathed.
The little girl was panting just to keep up with Amara’s march.
“Tell me,” Amara demanded before gripping Enid by the wrist and tugging her to the side, out of sight from the suspecting guards waiting at the top of the stairs.
As far as she was aware, only the princess knew her name. And she wanted to keep it that way.
Finally, the smile disappeared from Enid’s face. “It’s what that man called you last night at the ball . . . I’m sorry, I won’t use it again.”
“What else did you hear?” Amara persisted.
She shook Enid by the shoulders, knocking her off balance. But Amara’s hold was tight enough that she kept upright.
If the princess knew about the game she was playing . . . well, they were dangerous odds that she didn’t wish to wager with.
Enid squeezed her eyes shut. Amara could sense her trembling frame beneath her grip.
“Nothing,” she squeaked. “I didn’t hear anything else, I promise.”
“And how am I supposed to trust that?”
A pause. “Because I know when to keep my nose out of other people’s business,” Enid said, and somehow, Amara believed it.
A wave of awareness suddenly hit her. This was just a child.
I was just a child.
Amara remembered the countless times Fassar had laid a hand on her, punished her, yelled in her face in a similar way she was doing now. It made her sick.
“I . . . I’m sorry,” Amara breathed, quickly letting go of Enid and stumbling away.
Her back slammed into the ash tree close by. Gods, she wasn’t even thinking anymore. Her mind was in too many different places.
Enid only tugged nervously at her sleeves, her eyes still clamped shut.
Amara cringed. Deep down, she was not so different from Fassar, and she hated herself for it.
Everyone is someone’s monster.
Fenn had whispered that to her during their long days of hiding. On the nights where Amara had been too tired to go on. Where, perhaps, she thought it was easier just to end it all.
Maybe it would do the world some good. If she were to go, it would be one less kernel of evil to plague these lands. One less shadow to hide from.
She had never asked for any this. All she had ever dreamt for as a child was to live. And after her parents died, that dream had dissolved like ash slipping through her fingers.
She and her brother were forced into work just to survive the harsh Esterian winters. But even then, Amara still dreamt. Still wished. Even as she spent the rest of her youth slaving after Fassar and his band of monsters, she still believed in a better world.
It took becoming a vampire to realise that the dream of hers was but a bedside tale. That in reality, the world was only filled with death and darkness. That something was always lurking around the corner.
And Amara supposed that was the reason she despised children so much. She envied them for their dreams and bedside tales. For being able to believe in that better world, she so desperately wished to see.
Amara’s brow creased as she ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “Enid, I really am sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. Are you hurt?”
Finally, Enid opened her eyes and for the first time, Amara could see sadness there.
The princess shook her head and Amara couldn’t help the relief that flooded her. She didn’t know what she would have done if she had harmed her. Never once had she broken the rule she had made for herself all those years ago. To never hurt or kill a child.
Amara wasn’t Fassar. She refused to believe that. Maybe she was a monster, but one with boundaries and self-imposed chains.
Amara forced a smile onto her face, hoping that it met her eyes. “What were you doing out here?”
She wasn’t sure she knew how to have a pleasant conversation anymore. She was fluent in wry, mocking comments. Knew the language of hate and careless insults. But was she still capable of talking to a child?
It wasn’t much, but Amara could have sworn some of the glow had returned to Enid’s freckled cheeks. “I wanted to play a game. Aedric says he’s too busy with grown-up business and everyone else is boring. They don’t like my games.”
Amara struggled for something to reply. Nice. I can be nice, she thought. Amara went to open her mouth when Enid cut in.
“Can you play with me?”
Amara scoffed before she could stop herself. “Play with you?”
&nbs
p; “Yes.” The innocence in Enid’s voice was pure enough to melt nations.
But Amara still asked, “Don’t you have any friends to entertain you?”
“I’m the only child in the castle.”
Somehow, Amara understood. Friends were never an option for her, either. No one ever dared to approach her during her years in Valmont. And even if they did, Amara didn’t allow herself to form a connection with anyone. What would be the point? She would only have to watch them wither and die whilst she remained young, not a day older than twenty.
But as Amara looked down into Enid’s wide amber eyes, her face still muddy from earlier, she could only huff a laugh. “Fine. But on the condition that you promise to leave me alone for the rest of the day.”
Amara could try to be nice. But in moderation, of course.
Although, it didn’t seem to matter to the princess. Enid let out a cry of joy before skipping around her in a circle. Her hair had fully fallen loose now, streaming behind the girl like ribbons of liquid-fire.
“I knew you would play with me,” she chimed, taking Amara’s hand in hers.
Amara tried to ignore the clamminess of Enid’s skin, tried to deny her instinctive knuckle-crushing grip around the girl’s soft fingers. They felt like silk against her calluses. Well, sticky silk . . .
Whilst attempting not to grimace, Amara tugged her hand away, swiftly wiping it on her skirt. How many germs could a princess have? Amara wondered to herself. Hopefully not a lot.
“Let’s play Finder’s Hunt!” Enid grinned, her round face flushed with colour.
Amara raised a brow. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with that.”
Enid looked at her as though she were mad but explained the rules nevertheless. Once she was mildly acquainted with the game, Enid took off, bounding happily into the labyrinth of colourful shrubbery.
“You count whilst I hide!” she called, her voice faint and muffled in the distance. “When you get to thirty you’re allowed to try to find me. Although, good luck. I’m extremely good at this game.”
Amara shook her head. She would probably be able to locate the princess within seconds, if not only by her heartbeat and breathing patterns alone.
