Mark of Betrayal

by A. M. Hudson

  “Well, how do you interpret them?”

  “I don't know. I read them a long time ago when I was at college—studying Lilithian History as a minor subject—”

  “They study that at school?”

  “Not human school. Vampires have, well, had universities as well.”

  “Oh. So, you don't remember what the scrolls said?”

  “Never had any real reason to commit them to memory, and all my assignments were tossed out decades ago. But I don't remember there being anything about a child that could cure vampires, or I’d have been hunting it down.”

  “So, is that why no one else knew there was a prophecy until now—because there isn't one?”

  “Yeah. Well, the scrolls are there—for all to see. She's just the only one who would’ve interpreted them to be a prophecy.”

  “So, it might not be?”

  He rubbed his forehead. “I don't know. The page she’s talking about—the one that mentions blood of Knight—was hidden. In truth, I came across it by accident, so, there is a possibility that it’s a prophecy. I’d need to take a look at it again to make any real conclusions.”

  “It’s in the library, apparently. Maybe we can go down there once you're settled in.”

  “I already planned to,” he said. “This prophecy thing has had me going around in circles. I've tried to believe Morgaine’s side of the story, but it doesn't really fit. I mean, there's no way Drake would leave a scroll, prophesising the coming of a pure blood that could end him, in the library. Locked up or not. No way. He’d have destroyed it.”

  “So, you think it’s there because he wanted it to be found?”

  “It’s likely.”

  “And…the curse…Lilith’s curse…?”

  He took my hand. “I will show you that book. Morgaine interprets things as she wants them to sound. She’s…I'm sorry, it’s not nice to say, but she’s an idiot.”

  I laughed. “Okay, come on. Let’s go up to the manor. I want to find her and get to the bottom of all this.”

  “Okay, but, I think you and I should go about this slowly.” We both stood up. “There’s a reason they kept the dagger from you. I don't think we should go in there unprepared. We need to play dumb for now—do some digging.”

  “I’d rather go in there and strangle them all.”

  Jason laughed, scratching Petey’s head as he came up beside us—all puffed out. “We can do that if you want, but, like I said, it seems everyone here has a different agenda. If we let them know we’re smarter than we look, they might be more careful around us—possibly cover it up with another lie.”

  “Underdogs?” I looked at Petey; his ears pinned back as he cocked his head.

  “Right,” Jason said. “Team Underdog. You and me. We’ll figure this out.” He hooked his fingertip under my chin and rolled my face upward. “Okay?”

  “Okay—” I turned my body away but kept my arm around his waist. “What will we tell people about why you’re back?”

  He spun his baseball cap forward and hugged me closer. “Tell them I was returning your heart.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jason stayed by the wall, while I crept up the sandstone steps to the kitchen.

  “How do you know she’s in there,” he whispered loudly.

  “She always has coffee with Mike at eight.”

  “Really?” his voice dipped on the ‘e’.

  “Yeah. Shh.” I scowled at him, repairing it with a smile before peeking over the lower half of the split door. Sure enough, there was Morg and Mike, sitting face to face, chatting quietly in the calm of the country-style kitchen. If they were wearing old-fashioned clothes, they’d look like they were on set of a photo-shoot for ‘History Magazine’. I stood on my toes and reached a hand up, waving it a little.

  Morg laughed at Mike, shaking her head, then said something that made him laugh, too.

  “Morg?” I whispered, trying to make it loud enough for her to hear, but not the vampire directly across from her. She didn't hear it. “Psst,” I said louder and ducked down.

  “What are you doing?” Jason asked.

  “Hiding.”

  “Get up. You can't psst someone then hide from them.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” I stood a little taller and peeked over the door again. “Psst.”

  Morgaine frowned then looked around, as if she wasn’t sure she heard that. I waved my hand and quickly pressed my finger to my lip when she opened her mouth.

  “Here, I’ll take that,” she said to Mike and took his cup, then wandered over to the sink just near the door.

  I squatted down when Mike stood, his chair scraping loudly against the stone floor.

  “Yep, I’ll see you up there,” Morgaine said—not to me.

  “Okay. I gotta go see Quaid before his shift change.”

  Gulp. Crap, Quaid was about to be caught out with a missing queen.

  A head popped over the door and Morgaine’s piercing gaze made me shudder as I stood up and stepped back. “What are you doing, Amara?”

  My shoulders came up; I nodded down the steps to Jason, hiding flat against the wall.

  “Oh, my God!” Her hand flew over her mouth.

  “Shh.” I grabbed her and we hustled down the stairs to stand with Jason, concealed from the gardens by the steps.

  “Ara! Are you crazy?” She grabbed my arm and pulled me away from Jason. “How is he magically alive?”

  “I'm not magically alive—” Jason placed his hand between us and gently pushed Morgaine aside. “I was never dead to begin with. I staged my death.”

  “Staged? Why?”

  “Because of the oath, Morgaine,” he said, like it was obvious. “Drake compelled me to hurt Ara. I wasn't free of that until she was crowned.”

  “So…you've been alive? All this time. Just waiting to come back here and—”

  “No!” Jason practically yelled. “Don't think like that and don't say it!”

  Morgaine shrunk, folding her arms. “Sorry. I know.”

  “You know what?” I cut in. “What did she think?”

  Jason huffed and leaned on the wall, his head angled to the sky.

  “Okay,” she said, both of them ignoring my question. “So why are you here?”

  “Why do you think?” He sounded a bit defeated.

  “Does Arthur know you’re not dead?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Does…”

  Jason looked up and smiled, dropping the foot he had propped under him. “Morg, I know he’s alive. I knew about immunity all along.”

  “You did?”

  Both Jason and I nodded.

  “Does…anyone else know?”

  “You mean Drake?” he said, his brows high. “Yeah, he knows.”

  “How do you know he knows? I mean, how can you be sure, Jason?”

  “He’s still alive—that’s how. I was the one who gave that Warrior the venom-tipped sword, Morgaine. Drake should be dead. He either knows about immunity or is indestructible.” He shrugged. “You choose which one to believe.”

  “Right.” She rubbed her brow. “So…you’re here to stay, then?”

  “Yes,” both Jason and I said together.

  “Okay.” She smiled—it was forced, though.

  I looked carefully at Jason, knowing only too well that he was reading her mind and she was doing her best to think of other things.

  “Ha!” Morgaine laughed, scaring me a little with the sudden noise. “Mike’s going to flip.”

  “I know.” I spoke quieter. “That’s why I came to you. Can you tell him for me?”

  “Tell Mike what?” Mike asked, leaning over the bottom half of the door.

  “That I'm alive,” Jason said, stepping into Mike’s view.

  “What the hell!” Mike jumped down from the top step, landing gracefully on the ground between Jason and I, as though Jason was some kind of threat.

  “Mike?” I grabbed his arm. “He’s not here to hurt me.”

&nb
sp; “I don't care.” He pushed me aside and grabbed Jason by the shirt. “I get a second chance at killing you now.”

  “Back off, Mike,” Jason said calmly. “I don't want to hurt you.”

  “Hurt me?” Mike laughed and slammed Jason into the wall. “I’ll rip your damn arms off.”

  “Fine. You give me no choice.” Jason sighed then looked at me. “I'm sorry, Ara.”

  “For wha—” My words slipped away as Mike’s grip loosened and he dropped to his knees, folding forward into an unconscious heap at Jason’s feet.

  “What did you do to him?” Morgaine screeched, squatting beside Mike.

  Jason just smiled, dusted off his shirt and stepped over Mike. “I put him to sleep—a deep sleep.”

  “Jason?” I knelt beside Morg.

  “Well, what did you expect? He wasn't willing to listen.”

  My shoulders dropped with a breath. “Morg, go find Jason a room and get him settled in, please. I’ll deal with Mike.”

  “Uh, sure thing, Your Majesty. Um—” She stood up and looked back at Mike. “When will he wake up?”

  “Now.” Jason winked at me and disappeared.

  “Ugh,” Mike groaned, rubbing his head. “What the hell happened?”

  “Jason taught you a lesson in humility. You should have been more civil.” I helped him to his feet.

  “Civil? I’ll give him civil.” He held up his fist. “And then I’ll give him reasonable.” Held up his other fist.

  “Stop being so macho, Mike—it doesn’t suit you.”

  “I don't care, Ara. That guy is the reason for all of this. If he’d never turned you over, we’d—”

  “We’d never have known what I was, Mike. Or maybe we would, who cares. That’s not the point. He only did that because he was compelled to. Otherwise he’d have taken me away and looked after me!”

  “Bullshit, Ara.”

  “How can you say that? Mike, you made a blood oath. You know that what happened to me was out of Jason’s control. If my husband can forgive him, then you should, too.”

  “Blood oath,” he scoffed, folding his arms. “No excuse.”

  I folded my arms, too, smiling ruefully. “Hey, Mike?” He looked up at me, and I summoned my most authoritative voice. “Punch yourself in the face.”

  “Damn it,” he said as his fist flew up to his jaw, sending him tumbling backward.

  “Blood oath, huh?” I walked away with my arms folded. “No excuse.”

  When I reached my bedroom door, Quaid looked up from his phone and frowned. “How did you get out of your room?” he said.

  I pushed past him. “Do yourself a favour, Quaid. If Mike asks, you followed me this morning and I talked with Jason in the field, okay?”

  His mouth popped open but I shut the door on him, sliding down it to the floor. The taps were still running in the bathroom, giving me a sudden pang of guilt for the water I would’ve wasted. I got myself up and headed in there to turn them off, but opted for a shower instead, and came out feeling almost human again. But the soft hum of Arthur’s violin flowed off the early morning breeze and came in through my window. And instead of feeling joy and radiance like I usually did with that sound, I felt only blind rage. He lied to me. He watched me cry over Jason. He held me while I grieved a person who wasn’t dead.

  I stormed out of my room and down the corridor, with Quaid wandering behind in the cloud of my infuriation.

  “Quaid. Unless you want me to tell Mike you weren’t there when I chatted with his arch enemy this morning, I suggest you stay here.”

  He stopped walking. “I can't. I have to follow you.”

  “No. You don't.” I pointed at him, stopping long enough to make my words as clear as the goddamn day. “I will compel you to stay put if you follow me. And I won't order you to move for a week.”

  “Where are you going?” he called.

  “To see Arthur.”

  “Well, he’s not in his room.”

  I stopped by Arthur’s door. “Where is he?”

  “Great Hall.”

  “Thanks,” I said, and his round eyes watched me as I turned away. I felt mean, but he couldn't know the subject matter I was headed to argue with Arthur. No one could.

  Arthur spun around as I approached at a very fast, human pace, and his eyes lit with surprise at the obvious anger in mine. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I practically yelled, not really meaning to.

  “Amara? What is it?” He placed his violin on the stand and reached for me.

  I shoved him away, forcing my palms into his chest; he didn't even stumble back, just grabbed my thrashing arms and held them.

  “Ara, what’s wrong?”

  “I hate you!” I shoved him again. “You lied to me!”

  “My dear girl.” He cradled me against him as my knees went weak. “What are you talking about?”

  “You told me he was dead. You told me you buried him!”

  His chest sunk. “Jason came to see you.”

  “You sat there—” I stepped away and looked up at him. “You listened to me grieve for him—confused about grieving for him, and you didn't tell me.”

  He took both my hands in his again. “I'm sorry, Amara, I—”

  “I needed him.” I pulled my hands free, feeling hollowed out, breathless and so betrayed. “Why would you do that to me?”

  “Because of the child.”

  “What child?”

  “The prophecy.”

  “Because you think I wouldn’t have one with you if he was here?” I asked rhetorically, pointing off to the stairs. “Arthur, it wouldn’t matter if he were here or not. I won't do that. I won't have one with you. What makes you think I would ever let you touch me that way?”

  “Do you think I want to! Do you think I want to betray my nephew, who I loved, by fornicating with his wife!” He turned away, brushing a hand across his brow. “The child of the prophecy is only that if she is your firstborn. And those scriptures, whether you believe it or not, Ara, say it must be conceived with a firstborn son of Knight.”

  “Why does it matter to you so much—so much that you’d be willing to watch me hurt like this?”

  “I want to be free. I told you this.”

  I looked away from his wrists; from the way he presented the clear veins as if they were shackles. “And you think you're the only one who can give me that child?”

  “Amara, you know how I feel about you.” He moved in and grabbed the tops of my arms. “You are one of my dearest friends, and if Jason could father the child, I’d have brought him here already. He loves you, and you two, in David's absence, should be together. But your child needs to be with me.”

  I shook my head, sniffling, inching away from him. “Arthur. I can't. I can't ever do that with you. I don't love you that way and—”

  “I'm not asking you to love me, Amara—merely…” He looked away, shaking his head. “Merely give me one night with you.”

  My lips went tight. “It would make me sick.”

  His shoulders dropped; he looked away.

  “I'm sorry, Arthur, you know I love you.” I touched my chest. “You know I do, but I can't be with you that way. I never will.”

  “Then all hope is lost.”

  I took another step back, nodding to the ground. “Then I guess it is.”

  Arthur, with a hand to his heart, bowed and walked past me at human pace; his shoulders stiff, his head held high.

  “I'm so sorry, Arthur,” I whispered to myself.

  Morgaine came up the steps outside then and practically skipped into the Great Hall. “Morg?”

  “Oh, hey, what’s up?” she said, stopping beside me, the smell of summer grass and sunshine gently wafting off her skin with each pulse of her heart.

  “Where did you put Jason?”

  Her shoulders dropped. “I'm not telling. Mike doesn’t want you near him.”

  “Morg. I don't care.” I angled my head to the ground, the sound of impatience festering in my tone. �
�Mike is not the queen. I am. Now, where is Jason?”

  “He’s in the west wing,” she huffed the words out.

  “Thanks. Second floor, I imagine?”

  “Yes.” She followed me as I headed up the stairs. “Mike tried to put him in the east wing—as far away from you as he could get, but we’ve run out of rooms. Jason got the last one in the entire manor.”

  “What number’s his room?”

  “It’s the one at the very end—no number on the door.”

  “Thanks,” I said and walked a little faster—my silent indication for her not to follow. She dropped back, obviously ‘sensing’ it, and by the time I stepped onto the landing of the second floor, she was completely gone. The only other people around were Ryder, quietly taking over from Quaid’s shift, a maid cleaning the windows with lemon-scented Windex, and Nathan, charging toward me at full human speed.

  He nearly bowled me over, glancing back as he passed. “Ara! D’you hear?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Jason’s alive,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Yeah.” I smiled to myself. “I heard.”

  I followed Nathan down the softly-lit corridor, him running, me walking gracefully, all the way to the room at the very end, and stopped beside him with my arms around my waist.

  “I just can’t believe it,” he said, then rapped on the door four or five times. When it opened, he laughed, charging Jason. “Knight!”

  “Nate!”

  There was a moment of back patting and jumping around, before the boys stood back from each other, smiling.

  “What’s the deal, man?” Nathan said. “Are you a zombie or something—coming back from the dead?”

  Jason laughed, slipping his shirt over his head, pulling it down past his golden abs. “I'm not back from the dead, Nate.”

  “Yeah, so what’s the deal? Why’d you stage your death?”

  “King was after me.”

  “Dude. Not cool. Wah’d ya do?”

  Jason looked at me and smiled. “I’ve got some mad skills and a blood oath issue that would’ve made me his super slave if he knew I was alive.”