Curse of Blood and Midnight

by Emily Inskip

  Amara raised a brow. “That’s what this is about?” She couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled in her throat. “You’re jealous?”

  Aedric’s brow began to sweat. “I didn’t say that.”

  But it was too late, Amara was already smirking.

  “Stop that.”

  “But it’s too funny.” Amara looked at him from beneath thick lashes. “Anyway, for your information, the man I was with is an absolute bastard. In fact, he is probably on the top of the list of people I hate right now. And we were definitely not doing what you thought we were doing.”

  Amara took pleasure in Aedric’s small smile of relief.

  “Oh god, I’m so sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m such a fool, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Amara only shrugged, the corners of her mouth twitching as she suppressed a grin. “You have your moments.”

  A second later, concern flashed across his face. “Are you okay? Are you feeling well? I really wanted to see you today, but I just thought . . .”

  “Well, you thought wrong,” she said quietly. Because I was waiting for you to visit me all day.

  Amara was all too aware of the distance between them. And how easy it would be for her to reach out and touch his face.

  “Please forgive me,” he breathed, gazing down at her. His hands twitched as if resisting the urge to pull her close. Yet they remained firmly at his side.

  Slowly, Amara tilted her head up to him, her eyes straying towards the irresistible curve of his mouth.

  “Maybe,” she whispered. “Although, I have a favour to ask.”

  “And what might that be?”

  He smiled as she brushed her fingertips up the length of his forearm. Even the barest touch of her fingers was enough to make his breath hitch.

  “I hate to demand such things, “ she said, running her hand back down, then up again, skimming over his smooth skin, corded with muscle. “But I was wondering if you had an amber pendant I could borrow for the time being.”

  The small, promising light guttered in his eyes but Aedric still laughed. “Not got enough jewels of your own?”

  “Is there really such thing as enough?” she asked, drawing her hand away. Almost immediately she longed for the return of his warmth against her skin.

  Aedric just shook his head and looked down at the floor as he smiled. “I can see what I can do.”

  ∞∞∞

  “It’s done,” Nadia said, handing Amara the silver necklace studded with an enormous amber stone.

  It glimmered in the firelight as the two of them sat before the hearth opposite each other.

  “Thank you!” Amara smiled as she took the charm, scooping her hair over one shoulder before slipping it around her neck.

  Aedric had sent a messenger to her room earlier that night. He came bearing a sleek black box with a tiny note attached.

  To help you ride out the silence, it said in Aedric’s delicate scrawl. She clutched the slip of paper in her palm before thanking the messenger and retreating back into her room.

  Her eyes nearly swelled to the same size as the beautiful gemstone as she opened the box. Sat on a black velvet cushion was the most stunning piece of jewellery Amara had ever seen. It was cut into the perfect oval bordered with silver filigree.

  Now, it lay around her neck. Somehow, Amara felt like an imposter wearing such finery. This was a pendant meant for nobility, not for a woman who barely had a coin to her name.

  “Wow,” Nadia gasped as she marvelled at the necklace. “The Prince must really like you. I mean, really, really.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Amara said, but she couldn’t help the smile as she gazed down at the stone between her breasts.

  “It’s not just the gift, Amara. And you know it.” Nadia sat back on her heels, stretching out in the warmth of the fire. “But, just be careful. Playing with a prince’s heart is a dangerous game. Especially when you’re . . . well . . .”

  “A vampire?” Amara finished. “Yes, I am aware. And don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.” I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.

  Nadia nodded, although there was still a trace of scepticism in her eyes. “Okay, well you should get some sleep. Tomorrow is Whistlethyme. The castle takes it’s holidays very seriously, and the Whistlethyme celebrations are some of the biggest. You might be expected to make a public appearance, but I’m not too sure.”

  Amara knew what Whistlethyme meant. The celebrations marked the end of spring. And, the day before the full moon rose and lit the sky with crimson. The Bloodmoon was only two days away, and she was nowhere near ready.

  “Will you help me prepare?” Amara asked quietly, her fingers instinctively grasping the amber pendant around her neck.

  “Of course,” Nadia replied, touching her arm lightly. “But all that can wait. Try to get some sleep, the gods know you need it.”

  Amara narrowed her eyes. “Thanks, that’s what I’ve always wanted to be told.”

  “You know what I mean,” Nadia said with a smile before rising to her feet and drifting out of the room. And as she did, all the candles in the room flickered brighter.

  35

  Snowdrifts covered the forest tracks as alpine winds blasted through the small Kilohan settlement. Their wooden huts creaked under the gale-force storm and the shutters over their make-shift windows only did so much against the brutal weather. It was to be expected this late in spring. Being this far north brought on some of the strongest blizzards in the continent.

  Amara stumbled through the blur of white towards the warm lights glowing from the central cabin. She barrelled through the door, cheeks flushed red, her hands numb from frost.

  Fenn was sat waiting for her by the fire, two cups of steaming hot cocoa in his hands. He turned his eyes towards her as she elbowed through the groups of Kilohan fishermen busy seeing how many pints of ale they could down before the storm passed. As she sat down beside him on a fur-covered stool, Amara cupped her hands over her mouth before rubbing them together in front of the fire.

  Before Fenn even got the chance to hand over her cup, Amara snatched the cocoa and gulped it down, ignoring the burn as the liquid scolded her throat. It was better than being cold, after all.

  Fenn only chuckled and carefully sipped his. Amara savoured the warmth of the fire, like a blast of heat against her frozen skin. The wooden hut was packed with bodies and reeked of ale and the roasting hog on the spit behind them. But none of that mattered, because now she was here with Fenn, and it was like none of the horrors of the past month had ever happened. A fresh start.

  But that wave of peace shattered as a scream echoed through the building. It all happened so fast. Amara watched as a hooded figure barged his way through the crowd towards them. She barely noticed the sword at his hip until it was pressed against Fenn’s throat. She cried out, tears already streaming down her face. But it was too late. Her brother’s head rolled to the ground with a thump. Blood spurted from his lifeless body left hanging on the stool. In a heartbeat she was on her knees beside him, lost in the pool of his blood.

  She looked up desperately, only to meet the cold hard gaze of Fassar, the blade in his had still stained crimson.

  She couldn’t move. Even as strong hands picked her up and forced her into the blaze of the hearth. Flames rose up around her and all she heard were the screams. The world began to tilt and it was only then that she realised her hands and legs were bound to the spit over the fire. Pain engulfed her. But it didn’t even scape the agony she felt as she caught sight of Fenn, his body left slumped on the floor. No. No. No.

  ∞∞∞

  Tears rushed down her face as she flew forward in bed, panting. A cold sweat had gathered over her brow and she shivered furiously, shaking her head.

  “Amara, it’s okay. Just breathe,” a voice soothed.

  She hadn’t even noticed Aedric perched beside her on the mattress. Worry filled his eyes as he shifted closer.

&n
bsp; “Wh . . . what are you doing here?” Her words were quiet mumbles. She hated how vulnerable she must look to him now with tear-stained cheeks, the strap of her nightgown slipping down her shoulder.

  “I was walking by when I heard screaming,” he swallowed, running a hand through his hair, watching her slender arms tremble. “It’s okay Amara, it was just a dream. It wasn’t real.”

  Amara nodded shakily, although it didn’t help. Every time she closed her eyes, blood and flames would haunt her vision. It was true, the dream wasn’t real. Not yet.

  Another sob broke through her and then his warm body folded around hers. She buried her face into Aedric’s shirt, resting her head in the crook of his neck. Amara savoured the strong arms that came around her waist and his gentle, steadying heartbeat echoing in her ear.

  “It’s all right,” he whispered into her hair. And somehow, his voice was enough to stop the shaking. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  Amara promptly shook her head, nestling further into his warmth. His arms tightened in response. It was so strange being this close to someone. Usually, she would have been repulsed by merely being sat beside another person. But ever since her realisation with Nadia earlier that day, Amara seemed to enjoy the contact, the unsaid reassurance that melted something deep within her.

  She was surprised she didn’t flinch when his fingers came up to brush her hair. His hand stroked gently down the back of her head, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake.

  They remained that way in the darkness, bodies folded around one another amongst the silence. The small tickle of his breath against her cheek set her hair standing on end. She was so sensitive to him, every movement, every tense of muscle. She felt it all.

  Amara slipped her hands around his waist and left them there.

  When she thought about the thin material of his shirt being the only barrier between them, Amara felt her own mind grow dizzy. And despite every life-threatening event that was to come, she felt glad to have moments like these. Moments that reminded her of what it was like to live.

  Aedric exhaled, shifting away. “I’ll leave you to sleep,” he said softly.

  Amara knew she should agree, bid him goodnight and leave it at that. But she couldn’t. Because the truth was, she didn’t want to face the darkness alone any more. She couldn’t bear the idea of being left by herself, to endure the full force of her nightmares alone.

  Aedric began to push himself off the bed. Before she could change her mind, Amara reached out and caught his wrist. His breath hitched as he gazed back at her.

  “Stay with me,” she whispered. “Just a little longer.”

  He studied her for a long moment through the darkness. Say something, she urged. A creeping heat flushed over her face and she suddenly regretted saying anything.

  Just as she was about to admit her mistake, blaming it all on the nightmare and lack of sleep, Aedric nodded. At first, she thought she’d mistaken the action, confused it in the darkness. But then he moved back down onto the mattress. She watched him silently as he pulled himself against the headboard, his legs outstretched before him.

  His eyes fluttered closed as he relaxed into the cushions. How was it possible that he could look even more perfect like this?

  “Are you going to spend the rest of the night staring at me?” he asked, still not opening his eyes, but a smile now bloomed on his lips.

  Without replying, Amara sidled up beside him, resting her head against his chest. His arm melted around her shoulders. “Does this mean you finally enjoy my company?” he said, and Amara didn’t even need to look up to know he was grinning like a child on their birthday.

  She elbowed him in the ribs and his deep laugh rumbled against her ear.

  “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  “You really are insufferable.” Amara closed her eyes and smiled. “Goodnight, Aedric.”

  “Goodnight, Amara.”

  Sleep came to her that night easier than it ever had done before.

  36

  He was gone by the time she woke up.

  It makes sense, Amara told herself. A prince has duties. Although, she still longed for his warmth beside her. But Amara had duties of her own.

  Today was Whistlethyme, which meant tomorrow was the night of the Bloodmoon and Amara still had no idea where to begin.

  Nadia came to join her for breakfast that morning. They sat around the small oval dining table, Nadia shovelling a fruit pie into her mouth whilst Amara carefully nursed the mug of lamb’s blood Nadia had brought her.

  “I did some research last night,” Nadia mumbled in between mouthfuls. “Before the ritual, we need to establish a blood bond in order for me to channel the moon’s energy to you.”

  Amara looked at her over the rim of her mug. “And how do we do that?”

  “It should be a simple spell, nothing too complicated. I gathered a few supplies before coming here, so we can do it later if you want,” Nadia smiled before scooping a handful of ripened grapes onto her plate and popping them in her mouth one by one.

  Amara couldn’t help but smile. Her plan was finally coming together, and for the first time, she actually believed she had a chance at defeating Fassar. It was only small, but it was still a chance. And she would give everything she had in order to succeed.

  “Let’s do it,” she grinned, her foot already tapping beneath the table in anticipation. They were so close now. Perhaps she would have a chance to live without fear. Without having to always look over her shoulder. She could live to see a better world.

  Amara shook her head, trying not to get too caught up in the potential future she was so close to seeing. Things could all still fall apart just as easily as they can come together. She needed to keep a level head, keep her emotions from getting in the way. At least just for the next two days.

  Once she’d drained the last of the blood, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, Amara and Nadia began to clear a space in the centre of the room. She shoved the chaise against the wall and shifted the harp towards the window until there was enough room for Nadia to begin tracing a pentagram in white chalk over the tiles. Amara made sure to lock her door. She wouldn’t want any unexpected visitors during the spell. Whatever that entailed, Amara didn’t know, but she was interested in finding out.

  Amara loved to experience real magic. Not the concept, but the craft. Sure, she usually sees enchantments, her own healing talents, but nothing like a true spell. She’d heard tales about the capabilities of witches, but she’d never taken part in such activities. Well, you better get used to it, she thought. Tomorrow you are performing the greatest ritual in magic history. The idea alone sent a shiver skittering up her spine.

  “There are some candles in my satchel,” Nadia said, still focused on drawing the symbols across the floor. “Place them at each of the five apexes.”

  Amara did as she was told, excitement sparking in her blood. She already felt premature magic thrum in the air as she hurried around the circle of chalk. Once she’d finished, Amara had barely blinked before all the candles were lit and burning brightly.

  “Are you ready?” Nadia asked, stepping into the centre of the pentagram.

  She’d braided her back into a coil at the base of her neck and pushed the sleeves of her dress up to her elbows. Amara did the same, joining her in the middle of the chalk sketch and nodded.

  “Do you have the blade?”

  Nadia’s eyes widened as Amara produced the butter knife she had spent hours sharpening earlier that week. “Will this do?”

  “Perfect.”

  Amara handed over the knife, allowing Nadia to take her by the wrist and slice the blade down the centre of her palm. She barely registered the pain, but blood was already blossoming from the wound. Nadia matched the same cut along her own hand and drew in a sharp breath as the blade slid across her skin.

  Amara chewed on her lip at the sight of the fresh blood. Her nostrils flared at its scent alone, but she forced it away, focusi
ng only on the spell and the static energy crackling around them.

  Nadia clasped Amara’s hand with her own, closed her eyes and began to chant. Amara didn’t recognise the tongue. Perhaps it was some ancient forgotten language forged by their ancestors many years ago. But she couldn’t help but gawk in awe as Nadia recited the words again and again. They began softly, a soothing whisper floating up, up towards the draping chandelier above them. The air shifted then, becoming thick and heavy, as though they were stood within a column of tar weighing down on their shoulders.

  Amara watched as the candles around them began to flicker wildly and Nadia’s chants rose.

  The knife fell from her other hand, clattering to the ground. The sound ruptured the air like a clap of thunder and she could have sworn the entire room rattled. Amara struggled to steady herself. Her ears popped beneath the pressure and that’s when she saw the gentle trickle of blood run down from Nadia’s nose.

  Her recitation grew louder and louder until she was practically screaming it. Nadia’s head lulled back and silence fell.

  Amara thought it was over, ready to draw her hand away, but then Nadia’s mouth flew open and a wave of what seemed like red mist spread from her lips. Amara watched as it whirled in the air around them, drifting, encasing them in a wall of crimson smoke. But just as soon as it appeared, the mist cleared, vanishing instantly, so fast that Amara had to question whether she’d seen anything at all.

  And that’s when Nadia collapsed.

  The candles guttered. Simultaneously, the heavy air, thick with current lifted and Amara fell to her knees beside her.

  “Nadia,” she gasped, shaking the girl by her shoulders. “Nadia, wake up.”

  When Nadia didn’t stir, panic bleached her vision. Amara desperately pulled Nadia’s head onto her lap, pressing her fingers to her neck to test for a pulse.

  Amara sighed as she felt the faint flutter of an artery beneath her fingertips. It was there, but it was far too weak.

  Relief flooded through her as Nadia shifted, squinting against the pale morning light. Her eyes were bleary and bloodshot as she cracked them open, slowly easing up into a sitting position. Amara held her steady, feeling her frail body tremble with terrible jitters.