Of the Blood

by Cameo Renae

  “Thanks to both of you.” I gave each of them a hug. Spring was tense at first, but she loosened up and hugged me back. “I’d much rather be with you two, then with the rigid prudes and pricks I know will be at the festival.”

  Sabine sighed. “Yeah, we do have a lot more fun. The people are more relaxed outside of the castle. No stuffy attitudes or formal attire.”

  “The witch celebrations are my favorite,” Spring said.

  I turned to her. “I thought the witch celebrations were private?”

  “They are,” Sabine replied, fluffing the bottom of my gown. “Spring’s grandmother is the leader of one of the covens, so we don’t need an invitation.”

  Her words bubbled inside my head. Maybe, just maybe, they could find someone who could help me.

  I waved them both into the washroom and sealed the door.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I whispered.

  They both nodded.

  “The Wanderer who brought me here said I have magic that is being suppressed by an even stronger magic. That means someone put a spell on me, right?”

  Sabine’s eyes widened. “A Wanderer? You spoke to a Wanderer?”

  I nodded.

  “Heavens above. I didn’t even think they existed.” She shook her head in wonderment. “What was he like?”

  “He looked like any other man, except he had white eyes, was magical, and traveled through the wind.”

  They turned to each other. “Calla,” Sabine stepped toward me. “If you have magic, maybe you are the girl the Seer saw.”

  Spring nodded in agreement.

  “Absolutely not,” I countered. “I told you, I’m not royalty.”

  Sabine sighed. “If you have magic, it’s likely someone in your bloodline is a witch.”

  “Do you think one of the witches would help release the bind put on my magic? I’m not sure if I really do have magic, but I doubt the Wanderer and a witch would lie to me. They sensed something.”

  She seized my hand. “Few witches can be trusted here in Morbeth. Many have allegiances to the prince and are unwilling to hold things from him. But we know a few we can depend on.”

  Spring leaned in close. “I’ll ask my mother. She has no ties to the prince. Her magic is pure. Not dark.”

  A rap on the door had them both moving out of the washroom. Spring made her way to the door and cracked it open. After a brief conversation with the guard, she opened it all the way and made her way over to me.

  “Princess Calla, your escorts await,” she said with a low curtsey.

  “Please don’t,” I sighed, taking her arm and pulling her back up. “I’m not a princess.”

  “Tonight, you are,” Sabine said, tugging the back of my gown. “You look like a princess, so you might as well act like one.”

  “I wish you were coming with me.” I hugged her one last time.

  She hugged me back and whispered, “If you run into the handsome Carpathian prince, please extend my best wishes.” She winked. “And if there are any steamy details, I demand them all the next time I see you . . . unless he slips you away.”

  “Don’t expect any steamy details with Roehl around,” I murmured.

  “Any detail will do. Good luck.” She took my hand and escorted me to the door.

  Two guards entered and stood on either side of me. They were young, their hair and features black and menacing, just like their leader.

  The thought of Trystan in Morbeth made my entire body tingle with excitement. He was the sole reason I wanted to attend this stupid Shadow Fest. I doubted Prince Roehl would allow him anywhere near me. But even a glimpse from afar would do wonders for my spirit.

  I was escorted to the end of the hall where we met a much larger guard. He was dark-skinned, tall, and muscular. He looked like he could have been related to Brone. They were both around the same height and build, with a rugged handsomeness.

  The guards escorting me stepped to the side as the larger one stepped forward.

  “My name is Markus,” he said, his voice sharp and frightening. “I am head of the King’s guard. Step out of line, and you will be escorted back to your room. Leave the castle, and you will be sent back to the cell that received you when you first arrived. Do I make myself clear?”

  There were a thousand curses I wanted to throw at him, but I bit my tongue, painted on a smile, and responded, “Crystal.”

  I couldn’t believe they had the King’s head guard babysitting me tonight. Or maybe I could. But I had a feeling they chose him because Trystan was coming. For all I knew, Roehl’s entire army could have been dispersed throughout the festival tonight. But I didn’t want the night to start off with the head guard mad at me.

  Tonight, I would play a different role. Tonight, I would be humble and on my best behavior with the guards, to establish I wasn’t a threat. If I could bend them toward my side, even in the slightest bit, I might have an advantage. It was better than no advantage at all, and I needed to break down as many walls as I could.

  After strolling down a few hallways and descending some stairs, we took a few more turns before we came to a wide platform made of black marble. Connected to it was a black-and-white marble staircase leading down to a huge ballroom floor. On one side of the dance floor, a few tables were overflowing with every kind of food imaginable. Smells of spices and meats, commingling with freshly baked breads and pastries made my mouth water. There must have been affluent mortals attending this festival with such a spread.

  Musicians stood on a stage, elaborately decorated to look like a moonlit night. Violas, flutes, drums, citterns, and lutes played the most wonderful music. The melody, smooth and pleasant, was a complete contradiction of Morbeth. This was the kind of music that made you joyful. Made you want to be whisked out on the dance floor, to be twirled and dipped and then spun again. And perhaps to end in a kiss.

  A few hundred guests had already assembled, masked, and clad in their finery. There was no way to tell who-was-who. The masks were so diverse, some monstrous and grim, though others stunningly beautiful.

  “Go,” was Markus’s only word to me as we reached the top of the staircase.

  “You’re not going to escort me down?” I gave my best pouty look.

  His head jerked to me, eyes glaring as if I’d asked him to cut off his finger. “No.”

  My eyes saddened behind the mask. “I’m wearing expensive heeled shoes,” I said, raising the hem of my dress to show him. “If I slip and tumble down these stairs, it will cause a huge scene and attract unwanted attention.”

  A growl rumbled deep in his chest. “The railings are there to keep you from falling,” he replied.

  “Grasping the railing is embarrassing. It cries that I’m single. Men will notice and might come to talk to me or maybe even ask me to dance. Then I’ll have to tell them I can’t dance with them because I’m Roehl’s prisoner. And that might lead to other conversations where the fact that their beloved prince senselessly murdered my mother might slip. On accident, of course. It’s still a raw subject for me.” I forced a smile, even though the bitterness and pain were building inside as I spoke. “However, if you escort me, they’ll likely avoid me and all that nonsensical chatter.”

  One of the younger guards nudged him. “She’s right. You should escort her down.”

  After a deep internal growl, Markus turned to me and extended his arm, which felt like a steel bar. This man had zero body fat, and there was no doubt he could do some damage in battle. I didn’t mind having him around. He reminded me of Brone, who was even more intimidating on the outside and deadly in battle, but a big softy inside.

  I wondered, countless times, if he and the others were okay. I had a feeling they would be. They were probably back in Carpathia right now, safe and sound.

  As we slowly descended the fifty or so marbled stairs, I held tight to Markus, glad I had his support so I wouldn’t fall. Heels were not my thing. They were Brynna’s. My chest ached, wondering if I would ever see my friend
again.

  Playing the part, I straightened my back and held my head high while the gown flowed gracefully behind me. Markus was tense and I wondered what he must have been thinking. From the intermittent growls, he wasn’t too happy.

  Above us, a great crystal chandelier hung, twinkling like thousands of diamonds. Eyes of male and female patrons shifted to us as we reached the bottom. I could feel the weight of their stares as Markus escorted me to the refreshment table. As soon as we arrived, he disconnected from me and took three steps backward.

  I swiveled to look at him. “I take it I’m on my own for the remainder of the night?” He ignored me as I poured myself a cup of whatever red liquid was in the punch bowl. Drinks didn’t seem to affect me. When I consumed the water in the cell, I’d kept it down. It was solid food that made me sick. “Suit yourself. I am a reasonable dancer.”

  Markus stayed silent and I knew it was because he was playing his role. Head guard.

  Tonight, for whatever reason, Prince Roehl had set me free. Free in a sense that I could mingle with guests, and I was going to make the most of it. Tonight, I was an actress playing lead.

  I was thankful for the mask. Thankful no one could see the true me behind it. A tortured girl, mourning the loss of her mother and worried sick about her father and best friend.

  A throat cleared, and as I turned, a tall, muscular man attired in an all-black suit stood next to me. A black cape, lined in red velvet, was draped over his shoulders. He wore a menacing mask over his face . . . that of a demon. Large fangs painted in red extended over its lips, while red horns spiraled from the top, causing it to look even more frightening. But it was those eyes that gave him away. Those red-rimmed obsidian eyes.

  “You look beautiful, Calla,” he said gently, lifting his mask to sit atop his head. “I knew the gown would suit you.”

  Roehl was handsome, his features strong and sharp, his raven hair pulled back and fastened behind his collar. But what he’d done, what he represented, made him repulsive.

  “Thanks,” I said, taking a step away from him, while warning myself to keep playing the part.

  “I’d like you to meet someone,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me to his side. I didn’t resist. Now wasn’t the time to make a scene.

  Behind him stood a heavy-set man, wearing a white mask which covered the right side of his face.

  “Miss Caldwell,” he said, with a deep bow.

  I knew who this man was. Lord Mathias—the mortal ruler of Morbeth. He was taller than I expected, thick around the midriff and not muscular by any means. He had dark brown hair, which fell to his shoulders, and a matching full beard. His eyes were forest green, but they had a stern haughtiness to them.

  He carried himself like he was untouchable, having Morbeth’s vampire kingdom backing him. But I knew he was just a man, like any other, who happened to have pulled the lucky-vampire-card to rule.

  I had no doubt that if he stepped out of line—like Markus had so eloquently warned me—things wouldn’t end well for him either. He was a puppet, and I could already see how tightly his master’s strings were attached.

  The way Lord Mathias reverenced Roehl—like he was a god—made my stomach clench. He was undoubtedly playing a game of his own. A game of survival. A game, it seemed, we were all players in.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Roehl dismissed his guards and positioned himself at my side.

  “Tonight, you will be on my arm and will do as I say to keep your friend from harm.” He warned through gritted teeth.

  His mask was still resting atop his head so I could see the seriousness on his stone face. Deviltry was his flaw, and his costume was a true representation of the demon that lay within.

  “How do I know she’s here or that she’s safe?” I wanted to put further distance between us, but I stood my ground. “How do I know you haven’t already killed her?” The thought caused my chest to press with pain.

  He sneered before drawing his mask back over his face. Grabbing my arm, he tugged me past dozens of masked patrons, clear across the room.

  In a narrow alcove, resting on a red velvet chair surrounded by four guards, was a young woman in an elegant blue gown wearing a black-feathered mask. Baby-blue eyes stood out underneath the stark black, while long golden hair spilled in curls around her shoulders.

  “Brynna?” I swung free from Roehl’s grip and rushed toward her. “Brynna,” I breathed, falling on my knees in front of her. I immediately examined her exposed arms, but she looked unharmed.

  Her eyes met mine, but as she blinked, there was no flicker of recognition.

  “Brynna,” I repeated, taking hold of her hands. “It’s me, Calla.”

  “Calla?” She echoed my name like it was unfamiliar. “That’s a nice name.”

  “Brynna. It’s me. Your best friend.” I slipped my mask up to rest on my forehead and took her hands in mine. Her head cocked to the side, giving me a contemplative look.

  She didn’t recognize me.

  “This is a beautiful ball, isn’t it, Calla?” she murmured.

  She stood and grabbed the sides of her gown, then began swaying side to side to the music.

  Standing to my feet, I grabbed her arms and pulled her to face me. “Brynna, what’s wrong with you?” But her eyes remained distant. Hollow.

  Rage burned inside as I marched over to Roehl. “What did you do to her?”

  “She’s unharmed. Just under a spell,” he said, addressing her with a wave of his hand. “Do you think I’d let her recognize you? The two of you would likely cause a scene. Besides, look at her. She’s enjoying herself.”

  “You bastard,” I cursed through gritted teeth. “If you harm her—”

  “What?” he said slowly, leaning in inches from my face. His incisors lengthened, the red around his eyes became more pronounced. “What will you do?”

  I held my tongue, but my mind answered his question. I will kill you.

  Another evil grin tugged on the edges of his mouth. “Before I make my speech, I’d like to offer you some helpful advice.”

  “Advice?” I scowled. “What advice would I take from you?”

  “The kind that could save your life and the lives of those you love,” he replied.

  I glared at him, waiting.

  “The Prince of Carpathia has come to offer a trade. You, for half of his kingdom’s riches.”

  “What?” The word barely escaped my lips in a whisper. My world spun at his statement.

  He laughed, shaking his head as if it were a joke. But I found myself holding my breath.

  Why would Trystan offer so much for me? I wondered what his father had to say about it, or if he even realized he was here making such an unreasonable deal.

  “Don’t look so aroused by his generosity,” he replied smugly. “Here is my advice to you. If for any reason you accept to leave with him, either now or in the future, your friend will be the first to die. I’ll take some enjoyment from her first. But when she is dead, I assure you, I will locate your father and command his slow and excruciating execution, right before I proclaim war on Carpathia. I will crush their Kingdom and strip them down to nothing.”

  “Why? Because of Nicolae?”

  “This is all because of Nicolae. I will take great delight in listening to him scream as I peel the skin from his flesh. It’s the least he deserves for murdering my brother.”

  I knew I shouldn’t press, but I needed answers. And here, in front of all his patrons, I felt a little safer.

  “Why did he kill your brother? Why would he, after all these years, break out of hiding to come to Morbeth, slip past the impenetrable Red Wall, and murder someone who is highly guarded and trained?”

  Roehl shrugged. “Why would I know his motives, except that he has a death wish? And he is lucky I am an expert at granting such wishes.” He stepped closer to me. “Trust me, it will only be a matter of time.”

  There was something amiss with the murder of his brother. There had
to be a motive behind it. And why was the Prince of Morbeth so keen to dole out death sentences to Nicolae and his entire bloodline? Because even now, that order was faltering. Why would he insist on hunting and killing me one moment and claim me the next? What the hell was his twisted plan?

  I’d have to discover out the truth before he killed me.

  His dark eyes pierced straight through me, causing the hair on my body to stand erect. “And one more piece of advice, Calla. If you mention to anyone that I have your friend captive, both of you will be severely punished.”

  Reaching out his hand to me, I refused to take it. Instead, I stepped to his side, twisting back to see Brynna twirling in circles to the music, her gown swirling around her. She had a smile on her face, but her blue eyes were still empty. At least, for now, she was content and free. And as much as it killed me, I silently swore I’d find a way to keep her safe.

  To open the festival, Roehl gave a long-winded speech about how dominant and prosperous his kingdom was. He indirectly made sure the people were reminded of their places—that without him or his family, they would be nothing, possess little, and would have no protection.

  I looked through the crowd and was astounded. His people were buying into his bullshit. How in the hell could they believe him? Because all I heard spouting from his traitorous lips were lies, lies, lies.

  He continued, quickly reviewing his father’s declining health, which led to another speech on how honored he would be to one day acquire the position of King of Morbeth, taking on the obligation of the crown.

  The masked crowd cheered and applauded their prince, and it made me wonder what kind of people they were. Were they genuinely thankful for what the Kingdom of Morbeth had provided them, or were they frightened of the repercussions they would suffer for not showing their thankfulness? Maybe this way of life was all they knew. To be pawns in Roehl’s twisted game. Puppets, moving and acting, presuming they were independent while Roehl’s hand was above them, tugging their strings, determining their next movements.

  But I had one pressing question that I couldn’t get out of my mind. If the king was a vampire, why would his health be failing? He was a pureblood immortal, supposedly resilient to illness and disease. He shouldn’t be ill unless it was from some invisible force or magic.