by A. M. Hudson
“He already knows that.”
“Leave it in the past, Amara. David's suffered enough. That much I do know. And I know he won’t delight in you admitting you wanted Jason, even in a dream—especially since you don't actually feel that way,” she said, sighing. “It wasn’t real, Your Majesty, it doesn’t make sense to hurt him for something that you don't truly feel.” She looked at me then, and frowned. “Or do you?”
“I'm confused, Morg.” I dropped my head into my hands. “I don’t know what I feel.”
“Then don't tell him until you do,” she concluded.
Mike walked ahead while I followed, taking in the scenery—the soaring, airy trees, some of them yellow, others green, and the dry, leaf-covered forest floor. It actually wasn't that scary in here—for an enchanted forest. I expected a little more…enchantment.
We strolled in silence for a while, leaving the summer behind on the border, where the shorter trees, with full leafy branches, stood as fairy-tale sentries. The deeper we walked, the darker and cooler it got, and the trees seemed to soar up to the heavens, spaced further apart, though the canopy seemed to close in, miles up into the sky.
Mike stopped in front of a large, grey rock and turned to face me. “This is the Stone of Truth.”
“What?” I unfolded my arms and walked over to the big lump of slate in the middle of the clearing. “It looks like a rock.”
“It is a rock.” He smiled. “What did you expect?”
“I don't know—maybe an elaborate altar or something.”
“Nothing great is ever made of gold, Ara.”
“What does that mean?”
“If it looks like a rock, people will only see it as a rock.” He ran a flat hand over it. “It’s safe that way.”
“How did it get magic? Like, what is it?”
“You don’t know?” He frowned.
Feeling sheepish, I shook my head.
“Come here.” He patted the spot beside him as he leaned on the unpretentious altar.
“You’re leaning on it?”
“Yeah. Don't worry, baby, it’s not disrespectful.”
“It’s not?”
“No more than picking an apple from a tree. It’s a rock—a part of nature.”
When I let my hips and butt fall against the Stone, I felt a vibrant warmth coming off it; it seemed so small here, surrounded by so many tall trees, spread so far apart, making a clearing around it, like it had some kind of disease the rest of nature didn't want to catch. “It feels lonely.”
“What does?”
“The rock.”
“How can a rock feel lonely?” He looked behind him to the grey stone.
I shrugged. “I don't know. I just get the sense that it’s lonely.”
His brow arched. “You are one weird girl.”
I smiled. “I know. So, anyway…how did it get magic?”
“Well, legend has it—according to the Lilithian’s version—that the original Lilith stole a seed from the Fruit of Wisdom and carried it away. One day, she decided to plant it—to profit from its fruit and its knowledge. When she covered the seed with soil from impure lands, it grew out of the ground, tall and magnificent, then, shrivelled away and turned to stone.” He jerked his thumb behind him. “They say a great forest grew around it over many centuries—said to be enchanted—to protect the Stone from any who seek to misuse its power.”
“So it was a tree, and it died, but kept its power?”
“Or maybe it never died. Maybe the tree is alive in there somewhere.” He rapped his knuckles on the Stone. “And this is just an outer shell.”
I stared at in wonder.
“But anyway, like I said—it’s a legend.” He shrugged. “I don't care for the rest of it, and neither should you. Just being a vampire is enough weird for me. I can't even think of the fact that my best friend has to cut herself open and bleed on this rock to satisfy the sick, twisted traditions of a nation that lives on second-hand stories.”
“You'll be swearing an oath on this rock soon, too.”
“Yes, and then I’ll be your slave for life.” He bowed low, smiling.
“Which will be different to now, how?”
“Very funny.” He folded his arms. “So, back to the guided tour; the first part of the ceremony is held here. After you cut yourself and bleed, you make some freaky magic promise that’ll stain the skin all over your body with painful tattoos—”
“They fade when the ritual is finished, Mike. You know that.”
“Yeah, but they burn, don't they? That’s what everyone says.”
“So I've been told.” I looked at my smooth white skin, trying to imagine being covered in black runes. “But, I'm not the only one getting them, Mike. So don't worry about me.”
“Yes, but it’s different for me, Ara. I’ll only get one here.” He pointed to his upper arm. “You’ll have them everywhere, and we’re not allowed to show pain during the ceremony. No emotion at all, remember?”
“I’ll be fine, Mike. I'm strong.”
“Then why are you shaking?” We both looked down at my hands. “Come here.” He sighed and wrapped me up safely in his strong, warm embrace, until the shaking died down to tiny trembles.
“I'm not that scared—not really.”
“You are. You’re obviously scared.”
“It’s not the ritual that scares me, though.”
He looked down at me, releasing his hold gently. “Then what is it?”
“It’s…I'm actually more afraid I’ll stuff something up—say the wrong words or trip over.”
He laughed. “Really?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Well, I'm glad to hear that, then. It means my best friend is still in there somewhere.”
“Somewhere?”
He looked down at me, his caramel eyes bright with his smile, and wrapped his arm across my neck. “You’ve grown up a lot in the last few weeks. I don't feel like slapping you quite so often.”
“Urk! I can feel the love,” I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes.
“Aw, you know we love ya, baby.”
“I know. So, the walk—where do I go after I bleed on the Stone?”
He pointed to a path between two tree trunks that looked like Ents with big noses. “Right through Boris and Bert.”
“Boris and Bert?”
“It’s what we call those trees, because they look like funny old men with weird names.”
I chuckled lightly. “That sounds like something I’d name them.”
“That’s exactly what I said.” He rocked back, laughing once. “Funny thing is, it was actually Lilith who named them—when she was a child.”
“Cool.”
“So, you go past Boris and Bert, and once through, the ceremonial crowd will disperse and wait for you to arrive just before dawn on the rim of the forest outside the Throne Room.”
“And I have to walk at human pace, don't I? I can't just do it all in one run then sit on the ground for the night?”
“Uh, no.” He half laughed. “Don't do that.”
“Why? They wouldn't know.”
“No, they wouldn’t. But you would.”
My shoulders dropped. “Good point.”
“Look, I don't like this either, Ara. Who’s to say Drake isn't gonna wait for you to be out here, all alone—” he looked up at the loneliness of the empty space, “—and then just swoop in and grab you.”
“Thanks. I hadn’t thought of that, but now that you mention it, I'm sure I’ll be looking over my shoulder and jumping at every snapping branch I pass.” It made the idea of being out here, alone, in the dark, very, very scary.
Mike looked up as a crow landed on a branch behind us, cawing loudly in the silence. “Maybe you should just run the whole track.”
“I’ll be okay. It’s just a forest.” I patted his upper arm. “The scariest thing out here will probably be my own imagination. Then again, I am a vampire, so the scariest thing out here would actually be me.�
�
“Ha! I love the way you look at things, Ara.”
“Just doing my bit to be positive.”
“Well, in the end, that’s what’s gonna get you through this.” He looked at the crow again.
“What’s wrong with the damn crow?” I said mockingly. “Do you think he’s a spy?”
“These days, baby, I’d believe almost anything. Come on—” With his arm over my shoulder, he turned us and started walking. “It’s time to take you to your first, official, Private Council meeting.”
“Oh, goodie.” I clapped once, sarcasm festering in the air around me.
Under a trap door that slid into a concealed pocket when Mike stepped on a tile marked with a Symbol, was a set of stone stairs, leading below the manor in a circle. If I’d walked over that door, being hidden in the twist of the Throne Room’s patterned marble, I’d never have known it was there. And with the door gone, it almost looked like the circle continued, breaking into stairs as it went beneath. We followed them down, tracing the stone column they wrapped, until a dark room opened out before us; flame torches burned low in sconces on the rock walls, which reached high up to the floor of the Throne Room, with hollows displaying small statues, swords or tablets.
“Original.” I dropped back on my heels, looking at the stone table. “Knight’s of the Round Table.”
“Where do you think the legend came from?” Blade, my sneaky personal guard, came up from behind.
“Really? That was made up by Lilithians?”
“That’s what they tell me.” He shrugged and sat down, arms crossed behind his head, leaning right back in his chair. “Pretty funny, huh?”
“It wasn't made up,” said Morgaine as she skipped into the room. “The knight’s were once great and many. The head of each Core sat at this table, with the queen—” she pointed at me and then to a chair up the back of the room, “—while they wrote the laws that helped form our society. It’s not a myth or a joke, Blade!”
“Sorry.” He rolled his eyes and sat forward, dropping his elbows onto his knees.
“Ease off the guy, Morg,” Falcon said from the opposite side of the room, arms folded, foot against the wall behind him, as if he’d been standing in here the whole time.
“Falcon? How’s vampirism treating you?” Morgaine asked. “Haven't seen you since you were bitten.”
“Strangely, not so different.”
“Well, once you’re full strength, you’ll love it,” she said and placed a phone at the centre of the table. “For Emily to join in.”
“Just Emily?” I asked, hinting that David should be, too.
“Yes,” Mike said, pulling one of the ordinary kitchen chairs out from the ancient stone table. “That makes the Council complete.”
“Right,” I said, nodding. So, he hadn’t told the knights David was still alive. I wondered if he would. Well, he’d have to soon. I mean, even if I hadn’t decided to have them on my Private Council, they’d still be present for meetings and pretty much anything else I said or did.
“Ah, Eric, there you are.” Blade flipped his chin; I looked behind me as Eric and Quaid jumped off the last step, laughing.
“Something funny, boys?” Cop-Mike possessed the easy-going posture of my BFF.
“Sorry, Chief. We got lost.” Quaid punched Eric softly in the arm.
“Yeah, it was my fault. We were hanging out with the maids in the staff quarters, but there are so many doors down there—I swore the exit was the one on the right.” Eric stopped laughing for a second and looked at Quaid, but it burst out of them again like a car horn.
“Okay—” Mike rested his elbows on his knees, “—so, what did you find when you turned right?”
“Fat Margret and Edgar—kissing in the broom closet.” They roared with laughter again.
“Old Margie—that nosey hag from dinner?” Blade asked.
“Yup.” Eric composed himself. “You should have seen the look on her face—being caught with a lowly servant.”
“They didn’t have a candlestick, did they?” Mike asked, and I laughed, though everyone else just stared at him. “Margret, in the broom closet—you know, the game—clue-something?” he said leadingly.
The only response was cleared throats and chirping crickets, though I was probably imagining the crickets. “Don't worry, Mike. I got it.”
He smiled at me, shaking his head, then stood up and offered me his chair. “I'm gonna call her Mrs. Peacock from now on.”
“Mike, that makes no sense,” Morgaine said.
“That’s because you never played board games.”
“Yeah.” I sat down. “Mike and I used to play that game with my mum all the time, right, Mike?”
“Yeah.” He smiled warmly at the past.
“Mrs. Peacock was a game?” Morg asked.
“No—a character from a game,” Mike said.
“O…kay. Whatever.” Morgaine sat down.
“For an old bird, Morg, you don't know much about nineties pop-culture,” Blade said.
“Shut up, douchebag!”
“Okay, cool it, you two,” Mike cut in. “Now, first on the agenda today—” He paused and looked at the phone. “Morg, did you actually call Emily?”
“Oh, Crap.” She grabbed the phone, her cheeks blushing, and dialled Em’s number.
“Ha! She is like Ara,” Quaid piped up, and the other guys shushed him.
Morg gave him a vehement glare then turned back to the phone when Emily answered. “Hi, Em. Meeting time.”
“Okay. Present,” Emily said in her sweet voice.
“Em?” Mike said.
“Hey, Mike!”
“Hey, gorgeous. So, meeting begins now; just speak up if you wanna add something.”
“M’kay.”
I looked from the phone, to Mike. It was once weird to see him so affectionately look at another girl—er, phone—but it kind of felt nice now, to know he was happy—that he wasn’t alone.
He paced the floor, first addressing the subject of the defectors our Order had just inherited, how they seemed to be trustworthy so far, then went on to discuss the coronation, deciding it would be held this week—provided the Upper House approved. “Which brings us to our next topic.”
All eyes in the room moved to me; I shrunk in my seat. “What?”
“Changing of the knights.”
“Oh boy.” I tipped my brow to my hand.
“I know, Ara, but the rest of the army have completed the change—they’re training and ready to go. The only thing left to do, which I know you’re dreading, is to change these guys.” Mike clapped Blade on the shoulder.
I swallowed, trying to push the feeling, the memory of when Jason flooded my lips with human blood, out of my mind. I could still feel it blazing, and could still taste the acidic tang of Falcon’s blood when I changed him the other day.
“What’s the big deal?” Blade shrugged, palms up. “I don't get it—she just has to bite us.”
“Human blood burns her, Blade,” Morg said with a very thick smothering of abhorrence. “Lilithian’s just weren’t designed to bite humans—it goes against everything we are.”
“Sorry, Princess.” Blade sunk back a bit. “I didn't mean to be offensive.”
“No, it’s okay, Blade,” I said. “You weren’t to know.”
“If he’d paid attention the day you bit Falcon, he would know how it affects you,” Morgaine barked.
Blade looked like a kid cussing at his own mistake. “U’m sorry. I just…I thought she was upset ‘cause she killed him.”
“Yeah, well, now you know, don't you.” Morgaine took my hand. “But, despite the burn, Amara, you have to do this. The sooner, the better. You may need the knights when you go to kill Drake in a few weeks.”
“Trap him,” I corrected.
She looked up at Mike, who gave a small headshake—his non-verbal ‘leave it for now.’
“Well, at least I only have to bite three, right. So, when do you want me to do it?
”
“Tonight,” Mike said. “After the bonfire shindig.”
“Really?” I rubbed my tongue over the roof of my mouth.
“Can you think of a better time?” he asked. “We’ll let these guys enjoy their last evening as mortals, then we’ll introduce them to the flip-side of the pillow.”
“Huh?” I frowned.
“The flip-side…” his voice trailed off. “It means the cool side of life, you know, ‘cause your pillow is cold on the other—” He shook his head. “Never mind.”
“So, tonight?” Morgaine said.
An air of exhilaration and anticipation washed over the last remaining humans in the room.
“Okay. Tonight, then.” I nodded.
“Sweet.” Blade and Ryder smacked hands together, then turned and did the same with Quaid. Falcon remained cool, watching on from his position against the wall, as if he was above it all—way too mature to high-five.
“Right,” Mike said. “Well, the next meeting will be called in two days—the morning prior to the coronation. Ara?” He looked at me. “Eileen, formerly Lady in Waiting to Queen Lilith, wants to talk with you about the coronation.”
“Why?”
Mike leaned on the wall, his legs casually slanted in front of him. “She says there’re some things—history and reasons for some of the ceremonial stuff, that you need to know.”
“Great,” I groaned. “Look forward to it.” Really, though, I actually just felt like catching a taxi to Elysium, running inside, killing myself a bad guy, then taking the first breeze back home—to dad’s house—to normal life again.
Morgaine turned her head swiftly and looked into my eyes, while the rest of the council chatted and laughed loudly between themselves. “You okay, Princess?”
I shook my head.
“Right then.” Mike stood up off the wall. “Let’s call this meeting adjourned.”
“Sweet. Dibs on lighting the bonfire,” Blade said, rubbing his hands together as he stood.
“Yep, and Falcon can get all the firewood,” Quaid slapped Mr. Serious on the shoulder as he passed.
“Why him?” Morgaine asked.
“He can pull trees down with his bare hands,” Quaid said.
“Roooar!” Ryder laughed, following the boys up the stairs.
