by Ali Winters
“I lived in this castle a long time ago for many years,” he says by way of explanation then continues walking.
I don’t press for more information. Being here again is bringing his past back up, forcing him to relive things he would rather not remember.
Finally, we stop before an old wooden door. He pushes it open, and a wave of thick, musty air washes over us.
“What is this place?” I ask.
“It’s the old training room and armory.”
We step inside, and he closes us in. Alaric sets the torch against the wall igniting another. Seconds later, another ignites then another and another until the entire room is lit. On the far side, long wood and metal poles are displayed in a stand.
Through an open passage is another room. I can only make out the glinting of metal. That must be the armory.
Finally, Alaric turns to me and says, “Attack me.”
I reach down to my boot and frown as I straighten back up. “I forgot the dagger.”
He stalks toward me closing the distance between us with lightning fast strides. Unable to help myself, I concede a step. He twitches his wrist and the dagger appears in his hand. With another flick, it flips through the air. He catches it by the blade then holds the hilt out to me. Not a single cut marks the skin of his palm or fingers.
“Never go anywhere without this on your person.”
I don’t break eye contact with him as I reach out for the hilt, but before I can take it, Alaric pulls back his hand and flings the dagger. It imbeds into the door with a thunk.
“You can get it after you learn how to defend yourself without it,” he says. The man I know has transformed into someone strict and ruthless.
I look from him to the dagger and back. “If I’m always going to have the dagger with me, then—”
“You can always be disarmed,” he says. Then he positions himself into a stance I’m unfamiliar with. “Now, defend yourself.”
I open my mouth to speak, but in the space of a breath, I’m on the ground with the wind knocked out of me as Alaric pins me down, snarling. His hand rests behind my head, keeping it from smacking against the stone floor. The caring gesture takes away from the effect he intends by baring his fangs.
“Ouch. That hurts, you ass. I wasn’t ready,” I grumble, reaching down to rub my sore posterior.
Alaric smirks. “You should always be ready.”
Pushing off, he leaps up and holds out a hand. I eye him warily before accepting his help.
“Again,” he says.
I blink and land hard on my ass once more.
Again and again, this goes on until I’m sure I’m covered in bruises. Alaric stands over me, hand outstretched. I swat at it… and miss.
“No thank you,” I say. “I don’t see how bruising my ass is helping me at all. If I’m going to get knocked down, I might as well save us both time and just stay where I’m at.” At any rate, it will save me a few bruises.
Alaric laughs and squats down next to me. It’s a laugh I haven’t heard in… I don’t actually remember how long it’s been. I also haven’t seen that smile, the one where the slightest bit of fang peeks out because he can’t help himself. It’s only now I realize how hard he works to keep his fangs hidden most of the time.
“We will need to work on your reaction time, but for now, we will move on to something different. Come.” He reaches for me, and I clasp his forearm and let him pull me up. “I want you to deflect my attack.”
He demonstrates the attack he used slow enough for me to see every move of every muscle. It’s straight forward and uncomplicated.
I glower. In the hour or so that we’ve been practicing, this is the move that has taken me down time and time again.
“Now mimic this,” he says, coming to stand at my side. Alaric sidesteps, sweeping his arms in an effortless-looking arc.
I watch him a few times before attempting it. He corrects me as I go, having me practice until I can go through the motions correctly ten times in a row.
Once he’s satisfied with my progress, Alaric has me attempt it while he attacks—at what he calls human speed—except I can’t even manage to stop him once. My movements, compared to his natural grace, are clumsy and ill-timed. We go through the drill until I’m out of breath and too weak to hold my arms up properly, barely able to swing them in his general direction.
I step back and rest my hands on my knees. “I don’t see how this will help me. I can’t even stop you when you’re slow. There’s no way I’ll survive against a vampire bent on killing me.”
“It will. This is only your first lesson, Clara. You cannot expect to be an expert on your first day. As long as we keep practicing, then you will improve.” He returns to his stance. “Again.”
Before I can right myself, he lunges. I follow through, but my foot catches on an uneven notch on the floor. I stumble and try to catch myself, but my muscles are too weak and don’t respond fast enough.
I catch him off guard, and we fall in a tangle of limbs. The skin along my elbow stings as it scrapes along the rough, stone floor.
Alaric shifts and holds himself up by his arms. His eyes darken, and I can’t help but react. I shift underneath him. He groans and drops his forehead to my shoulder.
“Clara…” My name comes out as a pained plea on his lips. After several heartbeats, he lifts his head. “I think that’s enough for today.”
In a rush of air, he stands, reaching to help me up for the thousandth time. As I steady on my feet, my stomach grumbles from hunger.
“Let’s get you something to eat,” he says. Alaric’s gaze dips to my neck. I can almost feel his fangs pierce my skin again. He, too, needs to feed.
After removing the dagger from the door, he hands it to me. I slip it into my boot as he grabs the torch from the wall. He takes my hand and pulls me close, leading me silently back down the labyrinthian halls.
Tired and weak, I appreciate the peace that has returned between us over the training session. Even the dank underground tunnels don’t bother me.
As we reach the top of the stairs that lead to the servants’ halls, he stops. I look up at him, wondering what could be wrong.
“Would you like it if we went somewhere this evening?” he asks.
I blink. I had expected him to say a number of things, but this is a surprise.
“Where?” I ask, hoping it won’t be more training. My muscles need a full night to recover.
“To the theater.”
I can’t help but smile at the simple question. “Yes, I would like that.”
As long as it is out of this castle, which I can only assume it is. I think it will be nice to spend some time away from this place while we can because there’s no telling what tomorrow will bring.
Alaric takes a step then pauses, turning back to me, his lips pressed into a thin line. “If anyone threatens you while you’re here, do not hesitate to defend yourself. Kill them if you must, but keep in mind that there will be consequences, so do not act rashly.”
“Consequences. You mean I will die?”
Alaric shakes his head. “No. Not you.”
“What about the laws? They would still kill me for…” I don’t need to finish. We both know my crime. He doesn’t need me to remind him of what I’ve done.
“I have claimed you,” he says as if that answers everything.
Though, I know so little about the way things work here, maybe it does.
Chapter Four
Clara
I run my fingers down my dark red, silken skirt. The front is short, only covering my upper thighs but lengthens in the back, trailing down my legs. Underneath, I wear soft doeskin leggings with black boots that lace up to my knees. The corset forms to my body over a dark red shirt with capped sleeves and a strip of material that ties around my neck. It both manages to simultaneously cover my shoulders and neck while leaving the top of my chest exposed. Every scrap of material is either black or blood red. I list my head to the side.
It’s a style I’ve never seen before.
The servant who delivered my clothes three hours ago offered to stay and style my hair. I appreciated the offer but I prefer to wear it loose.
A knock on the door brings a smile to my face. Alaric insisted that he get ready in another part of the castle, promising to come for me when it’s time to leave.
I pull open the door to see him standing, fist still raised to knock. He doesn’t speak as he takes me in. As the silence stretches on, I squirm under his inspection, wondering if I put the outfit on incorrectly or if I’m missing a key part of it.
Cherno leaps from his shoulder and swoops into the air. Their wing glances off the top of my head as they pass into the room.
“You look beautiful,” he says, extending his arm toward me.
My face warms from the compliment, even if it was a reflex. Words catch in my throat, and I lick my suddenly dry lips. “Thank you,” I say, dipping my chin and looping my arm through his.
Part of me wonders if this is what being courted is like for everyone else—except I know that is not what we are doing. Alaric wants space from the queen and his memories. I’m going with him because he doesn’t trust anyone here to not kill me while he’s gone.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other’s company. We are… friends.
Out in the hall, he turns us toward the left. Our soft footsteps are the only sound around us as the firelight flickers in the sconces, making shadows dance along the walls. Every several yards, there are shallow alcoves along the inner wall. Within each one, a white stone bust sits atop a gray podium. They are all different, but each face is beautifully carved and stoic.
Only a few sconces along the wall light the way, in contrast to the other way where all are lit. I frown.
Alaric’s gaze flicks to me as though he could sense me my eyes on him. His fingers squeeze my arm gently before relaxing again. “I would like to avoid being stopped unnecessarily by any court members who happen to be in the main halls tonight.”
I sense there’s more to it than that, but I don’t push the issue.
We reach the top of a narrow staircase. I take one step and pause. My eye is drawn to yet another bust, this one is of a young woman. The detail of each line and groove stands out. There is a lifelike quality to this one. Unlike the others, the corners of her lips are turned down into a slight frown and her eyes are closed. The sorrow of her expression is heartbreaking.
Her eyes snap open. I stumble back several steps, bumping into Alaric. He clutches my shoulders, steadying me.
“Is everything all right?”
I look from him back to the bust. The face is unchanged.
“Ye-Yeah,” I breathe the word. “I thought I saw something, but it was just the shadows.”
This creepy castle has me seeing things. I shake my head and descend with Alaric, leaning into his side.
My jaw drops when we step out of the carriage. I’ve never seen anything like this before. Gas lamps line the sidewalks, lighting the streets and buildings, and even more lights glow from within shops, turning the night into day. There’s no sign of a single demon anywhere, not even in the shadows of alleyways.
I’m dressed similarly to the other women out tonight. A mix of old and new styles.
A woman dressed in brightly colored silks brushes her knuckles over her lover’s cheek. He smiles down on her and rolls his sleeve up to his elbow before, offering his wrist to her. She kisses his palm just before her mouth clamps down, teeth sinking into his flesh.
My mouth goes dry.
Demon shit. This is a town of vampires, and Alaric has dressed me up as one of them. A shiver crawls down my spine.
“Alaric,” I say barely above a whisper.
He takes my arm and tucks me into his side, placing a kiss on my cheek. “You do not have to hide here.”
Inside the theater, the crowd gathers in the corners and along the walls. Alaric leads us to our seats. I sit on the inside next to a man who looks a few years older than Alaric.
We take our seats. I ignore the man on my other side, but the weight of his stare is intense, demanding my attention. I swivel my head and meet his gaze. He watches me with unabashed curiosity, grinning and showing his fangs. He scents the air, probably to gauge if I am human or not.
A low growl issues from my other side. Alaric covers my hand with his and squeezes. The vampire’s eyes widen, and he dips his chin then looks straight ahead.
I lean into Alaric angling my body toward him just as the lights dim. The curtain raises, and the music starts. A single woman enters onto the stage, twirling and dancing. When the music picks up, more performers join her.
I find it hard to concentrate and keep looking to Alaric.
“Relax, my dear Clara, enjoy the show,” he whispers into my ear.
I startle, turning my face toward him. He’s leaning in so close that our noses nearly touch. I inhale sharply as his warm breath tickles over my cheek.
He smiles then returns to watch the dancers. His thumb draws circles on the inside of my wrist. It’s a simple touch, almost as if he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, but it feels intimate. I pull my hand from his without resistance and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. His hand remains in place, landing on my upper thigh, his thumb never ceasing the slow movements, sending my mind to dark and delicious places.
Pretend… pretend the mark is complete. I close my eyes and swallow thickly. We are more than allies—we are friends.
But the absentminded way he touches me distracts me from the performance. All I can think about is his touch and how I want to feel his hands and lips on my heated skin.
Light fills the auditorium, and clapping replaces the sound of music. Some remain in their seats while others rise to make their way to the aisles.
My mouth is dry. I suddenly feel claustrophobic. It’s too crowded in here. I jump to my feet.
“What’s wrong?” Alaric cants his head.
“I just need some air,” I say quickly and make my way past him and hurry toward the lobby.
It’s no better out here. Theatergoers crowd the space. I have to push past several people to reach the back. I make my way down the dim, back hall to the room with the open door and close it behind me.
My heart gallops against my ribs. The damned mark is demanding, urging me to seek out the final one. And the casual way Alaric touched my thigh and caressed my hand isn’t helping matters.
I inhale deeply and push away from the door, crossing toward the sink. Turning on the water, I let it run over my hands then press them to my cheeks and neck to cool my skin.
I grab a small hand towel to pat my face dry.
I’m getting worked up over something so small. Alaric is good, almost too good. No one would doubt his part in this charade. I know this is all an act, and yet, a simple touch of his hand has me flustered.
I lean on the counter, glaring at my reflection, then hang my head. My hair slips over my shoulders and forms a curtain around my face. I have to do better.
Demons and saints, Clara, you signed up for this. Get over yourself and play your part, I scold inwardly.
With that, I straighten my spine and lift my chin, determined. I walk out of the room, ready to return to Alaric.
Nearing the corner to the lobby, I pass a group of four vampires. I keep my chin down, not meeting their gaze. The last thing I need right now is to piss off a random vampire. They could kill me before he could reach me, even with his ability to move inhumanly fast.
The closest vampire clips my shoulder with hers. I hit the wall hard enough to bruise. My arm aches. I clamp a hand over the spot where she collided with me and turn to glare back at the group. Two women, a blonde and a redhead accompanied by three men. The redhead pauses briefly but doesn’t look over her shoulder.
The stinging on my arm hasn’t lessened. Something warm and sticky seeps between my fingers. Slowly, I peel my hand back, revealing a de
ep cut.
Well, fuck.
I barely have time to contemplate what this means before a snarl jerks my attention up. A vampire stands inches before me, seeming to have come from thin air.
He licks his pale lips, and then in a blink, a woman appears at his side. Their eyes are ringed in red circles. Behind them, all heads have turned toward me, though no others approach.
Slowly I back up into the hallway the way I came. After a few steps, I turn and run.
Demon shit.
This is a dead end, but I would die in seconds if I was stupid enough to run through the lobby. I can only hope I’m able to fend off these vampires until Alaric notices something is off and comes looking for me.
The breath is punched from my lungs as I’m slammed up against the wall, my cheek stinging from the impact. An arm presses down on the back of my neck.
The vampire brings his mouth to my ear. “Why are you running?”
“Let me go,” I snap.
He spins me to face him. The hand at the base of my throat, pins me in place, sharp nails biting into the sensitive skin of my neck. The vampire bares his fangs. “If you didn’t want to be feasted on, then you shouldn’t have been so temping.”
He runs a finger along the cut, keeping his eyes on me, watching every flicker of emotion that crosses my face. He presses down harder. Spots form across my vision. Bringing his finger to his mouth, he licks off my blood.
I press my hands against his chest and shove. Spinning out of his hold, I put some distance between us, not daring to turn my back on him again. The vampire’s eyes widen in surprise then a dangerous smirk forms on his mouth.
I push back the material of my half skirt and pull out my dagger.
“Look, Jonathan. The human wants to play,” the woman croons, humor in her words. She twirls a finger around a lock of ebony hair.
“Stay back,” I say. “I will kill you if you even think about feeding on me.”
The man laughs. “Foolish human.”
He takes a step forward then another and another. I lift my arm and swipe the blade through the air to warn him.
