As rich and deeply satisfying as his sire’s power was, Dante craved something else. He desired the blood of another person, one he hadn’t had the chance to taste too much. As a ghost, he had not been able to feast on Eli, to claim him like this. Some strange limitation had kept him from doing so. But Dante needed it. He needed it so badly that he found himself sucking on Aran’s wrist harder, to compensate for what he couldn’t have.
Aran placed a hand on Dante’s shoulder and slowly freed his arm from Dante’s grip. Distantly, Dante realized that it was probably for the best. His father had already given him more blood than he should have. Right now, Aran needed to be strong and alert at all times, as far too many enemies waited in the shadows, ready to strike. Still, Dante’s body had suffered for too long from the deprivation. Aran had helped a lot, but Dante’s thirst had not been quenched.
As if hearing Dante’s call, Eli made his way to the crystal casket. Following Aran’s example, he offered his own bleeding wrist. By rights, Dante should have refused. Eli must have been truly drained from the ritual. For that reason, he hesitated. But when he met Eli’s eyes, he saw only decision, affection, and a dose of exasperation. “Go ahead,” the elf said. “You need this, but so do I.”
Dante couldn’t bring himself to reject that honest offer, not when the tantalizing scent of Eli’s blood tickled his nostrils. He gripped his mate’s wrist with more gentleness than he had his father’s, drinking softly and all the while holding his lover’s gaze. Several thoughts passed through his mind as it began to clear. He felt grateful that Aran had kept him from unleashing his savage nature on Eli. He was in awe at the ease with which Eli accepted his nature. A part of him still couldn’t fully process that, after months of being a ghost, he’d finally been granted this magnificent chance, but his reason did accept it and wondered what it would mean for Aran, for the other bloodkin. His heart, though…His heart was fully focused on Eli’s obvious joy and on the excitement and anticipation of finally being able to complete their bond, the way it was supposed to be.
This time, the memories came to him as clear as day. There were many countless images, countless wishes burning in Eli’s heart, but most of them rotated around Dante. The purity and intensity of Eli’s emotions humbled Dante, soothed his body and his soul.
He was so distracted by his own thoughts and Eli’s that he didn’t feel the danger approach until it was too late. Only when Eli tensed did his senses become clearer. He finally registered the proximity of several presences that hadn’t originally been in the temple, and likely had no business being here.
Outside, a guard shouted, “Halt in the name of the…”
The rest of his words were drowned out by an inarticulate noise, and the sounds of battle erupted outside. “Majesty,” one of the priests said with a gasp, “you need to get out of here.”
Ignoring the man, Aran helped Dante out of the casket. “Come, my son. You are still weak. We cannot allow them to hurt you once again.”
“What’s going on?” Eli asked. “Who is attacking?”
“Likely, one of my brothers,” Dante mumbled. He tried to stand, but his knees buckled, and he would have fallen if Eli and Aran wouldn’t have supported him.
“Do not fret, children,” Aran soothed him. “I haven’t been Imperator for decades so as to fall to a ridiculous insurrection.”
Dante wanted to believe that, but it seemed clear that whoever was behind this had been pretty organized. In fact, he’d bet money that they had some source of information here, in the temples. They had waited until Dante was back in his body, as his ghostly form was a factor that couldn’t be controlled. Someone here must have given them the cue to strike once Dante had recovered, and the delay between his recovery and the assault was likely caused by the time it had taken for them to organize something coherent.
Aran seemed to be thinking the same thing. He scanned the room with shrewd eyes, until his gaze fell on a particular priest. “You!” he said. “You did this.”
At first, Dante had no clue how his father had singled the man out, but then, he saw it, an apprehension that had nothing to do with the events outside. The priest’s eyes widened. “No, Majesty, I…”
One look from Aran silenced any lies that might have come out of the priest’s lips. “Who is behind your ploy?” Aran asked.
“Lady Antemia,” the priest blurted out. “Please, Majesty. Have mercy. I—”
The Imperator didn’t allow him to finish. A wave of power swept over the room, sending the man to his knees, powerless and unable to move. Normally, a traitor might have been interrogated further, but any information the priest could provide would be useless in a couple of minutes. The rest of the conspirators would undoubtedly burst into the temple, and then it would all come to light. As such, Dante expected his father to simply slit the traitor’s throat. Instead, Aran said, “I will give you one chance. Go out there and stop this. Tell them I will hand myself in. I don’t want any more blood spilled this day. However, Dante and his mate will not be touched.”
The priest gaped, having obviously known his chances to survive were very slim. Dante couldn’t focus on him, though. His sire’s words still rang out in his ears, horrible and damning. “You have a plan, right?” he whispered. “You won’t just let them…”
“Of course I have a plan.” Aran grinned and kissed Dante’s forehead. “Antemia doesn’t know half the things I can do. She is a fool if she thinks she can earn the throne for her son like this.”
Many years ago, Antemia had been Aran’s concubine, the first one of many. After she’d given birth to Gideon, Aran had granted her great wealth, very pleased with his new son. Nevertheless, as time passed, it became clear that she was not a good mother to Gideon. Aran had ended up replacing her with Valerian’s mother, although he had never taken back his presents to her.
But it seemed obvious to Dante that, no matter how much Antemia aimed to become reigning queen, she wouldn’t have attempted such a thing without Gideon’s cooperation or at least his knowledge. Sadly, Dante couldn’t say this was particularly surprising, but it unsettled him that his father seemed to disregard Gideon’s involvement. Aran wasn’t telling him something, something very important. But his father still had many secrets, things he had kept from Dante, as well as from Gideon and Valerian. Dante only hoped that one of those secrets could help them break free of this predicament.
“Go,” Aran told the treacherous priest. “Tell them. Explain my terms and return to me with their agreement.”
The man got up and scuttled toward the exit like a bug. The other priests allowed him to pass, unlocking the doors. As he slipped outside, the rest of the clerics quickly blocked the entrance again. Instantly, Aran’s demeanor changed. “Quickly now, son. Follow the priests. There is a passageway in the temples that will lead you outside and to safety.”
“But what about you?” Eli asked.
Aran smirked, showing his sharp fangs. “Don’t worry about me. I always have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
Chapter Six
The attack had taken Eli by surprise. A part of him had truly hoped that Dante’s brothers had remained open to his offer of cooperation. Apparently, that had been too much to ask for.
Eli was honestly worried. Aran seemed to believe that he could handle this, but how was that possible? How could Aran remain this optimistic when a large group of enemies advanced upon them? Why?
Because yes, it seemed obvious to Eli that Aran’s allies were painfully outnumbered. He’d only caught a brief glimpse of what was outside, but that had been more than enough. Surely, Aran didn’t intend to just give himself up and die for a cause. The Imperator didn’t strike him as that kind of man.
But no matter how concerned he might have been for the man who was, essentially, his father-in-law, Dante remained his priority. And Dante was very weak still. He couldn’t afford to be caught in another battle. Eli was fairly certain that if something happened this time around, there would be no more s
econd chances.
Predictably, though, Dante didn’t seem inclined toward leaving his father. “No, Father,” he said, shaking his head stubbornly. “We will not abandon you.”
“Consider it an order then.” Aran narrowed his eyes at Dante. “Go. We don’t have time to argue. You’re a liability to me here.”
The words were harsh, but Dante didn’t flinch. In fact, he seemed to understand what Aran meant. To a certain extent, Eli grasped Aran’s meaning as well. This would be a battle, one that Dante most likely couldn’t handle.
With that thought in mind, Eli squeezed his mate’s hand. “He’s right, Dante. If we stay, we’ll just hinder him. He means well.”
Dante still looked torn, but Aran wouldn’t accept any other protests. He physically pushed Dante and Eli in the direction of what seemed to be a plain wall. “Go. I promise I’ll join you.”
“All right,” Dante said finally. “Just take care of yourself.”
The high priest pressed a concealed button, and the stone parted, revealing a hidden passage. Eli wasn’t surprised since he’d been through one of these corridors before. However, he couldn’t help but wonder if it was truly safe. After all, Dante’s brothers were bound to know about it.
He was likely not the only one who realized this simple fact, but nevertheless, none of those present hesitated. It seemed they trusted Aran to have anticipated these circumstances and taken the necessary precautions. The high priest in particular looked a little calmer, and Eli suspected the man might have been aware of the possibility of an attack, perhaps informed by Aran himself.
The thought encouraged him, and as the priests entered the passageway, he followed, half dragging Dante along. His mate wasn’t very cooperative and kept looking back, which could turn out to be very dangerous. These hidden corridors were booby-trapped, and one bad step could kill them all. Aran stopped Dante’s behavior by closing the passage. At that, Dante seemed to brace himself and focused on the road ahead. Eli could only guess how hard it must have been for his mate to leave his father at the mercy of the traitors, all alone. Even to him, it seemed wrong somehow.
“It’s going to be all right,” he whispered. “I think he guessed this would happen.”
“Probably,” Dante answered. “But I worry that he underestimated my brothers. I trust him, Eli, but I wish there was something I could do to help.”
From ahead of them, the high priest replied, “You can. Above all, the Imperator needs you to survive. He can handle your brothers as long as he knows you are safe.”
There was nothing more that could be said to that. Eli understood what Dante was going through, but the priests didn’t. In the end, as much as Eli hated to admit it, the cleric had a point. Dante had to survive. While under normal circumstances, he’d have undoubtedly been an asset to his father in battle. Today, he definitely couldn’t fight.
Eli didn’t know how long they walked through the passageway. At times, Eli thought he could hear voices behind them, but his imagination might have been playing tricks on him. The torturous trek seemed to go on forever, and Eli half expected that any moment now, their foes would find them and kill them.
No such thing happened. In fact, just as Eli was beginning to lose hope, the high priest opened a hidden door and stepped outside. At first, Eli couldn’t tell where the corridor had taken them, but as soon as he left the passageway, he figured it out. It was honestly very easy to tell. The Tachakan dome shone overhead, and the sounds of the city surrounded them from all directions. They had ended up in a Tachakan alley, somewhere behind the bazaar, if Eli had to hazard a guess. Ironically, it was quite close to the inn where Dante and Eli had stayed when they’d returned to the bloodkin capital.
As far as Eli could tell, the citizens didn’t realize that something was happening at the palace, which was, to a certain extent, good news. Or so Eli hoped. He had loathed Aran for ending Dante’s life, but now, he’d come to respect the Imperator, and even care about him a little. He prayed that Aran would manage to control the situation, although he doubted such a thing was possible.
“This way,” the high priest said, ushering them in the direction of the Tachakan outskirts. “We need to get you as far away from the passage as possible.”
“Are we leaving the city?” Dante inquired.
“I do not know,” the cleric replied. “I was instructed that, in case something happened, I was to take you to a specific location. From that point on, I’m not sure what will happen.”
That actually sounded a lot like something Aran would do, secretive, shrewd, yet preemptive. The rest of the priests seemed quite confused, which confirmed Eli’s original guess that only their leader had been informed of the potentially dangerous situation. Even so, no one asked any more questions, and they followed in silence after the high priest.
On instinct, Eli placed a glamour on himself and Dante, but instants later, he realized the group of clerics now flanked them and were masking their presence as well. More importantly, Dante appeared to be recovering more and more with every second that passed. This pleased Eli greatly, but it also concerned him, because it meant that any moment now, Dante would demand to return to the palace.
“We shouldn’t have left him,” Dante murmured, right on cue. “They’ll kill him.”
“Dante, stay calm,” Eli replied. “We’ll go back for him. Have faith. Let’s see what precautions he took first. It might help.”
Fortunately, his mate agreed. They advanced through the busy city, mostly using smaller alleys and always keeping a strong glamour on. At last, the high priest stopped in front of a particular building. “Here,” the man said, gesturing them inside.
Eli eyed the structure with equal amounts of curiosity and suspicion. Around them on the street, there were all sorts of shops advertising various services, from haberdashery to pleasures of the flesh. This particular establishment offered antiquities, all sorts of peculiar items and other such eccentric miscellanea. Other than that, there didn’t seem to be anything special about it. But when they finally entered the building, Eli did notice something that made him feel a little better. On the wall in front of him lay the symbol of Mother Earth. For some reason, that made him feel protected, safer, and more assured that he might find something here that could help.
The main room of the shop held no patrons or customers, and the shopkeeper was missing as well. “Hello?” Eli called out. “Is anyone here?”
After a few moments, a voice responded, “Yes, yes. I’ll be right there. You young people. So impatient.”
Eli heard some noises in the back room and surmised the owner of the store would come to assist them. As he waited though, his gaze fell on the symbol of Mother Earth again. There was something else there, something he hadn’t originally noticed. Peering closer, Eli distinguished another, more discreet drawing. It was a representation of the Sky Lord, the deity other races such as the humans and the avians worshiped.
He didn’t have time to figure out what that meant, because an old man entered the room, gazing of them with shrewd eyes. “Oh, it’s you.”
“I take it you were expecting us,” Dante answered without missing a beat.
The man chortled. “You could say that. Come, come. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Eli and Dante followed as the old stranger headed back the way he’d come. The priests attempted to come with them, but their peculiar host threw them an ugly look over his shoulder. “The rest of you must stay here.”
It was all very puzzling, but Eli held his tongue and asked no questions. His mind was still on the symbol of the Sky Lord painted on the wall, hidden from sight. What did it mean, and why had the Imperator sent them to a person who worshiped another deity? Not that the difference in religions mattered. It just seemed odd to Eli, given Aran’s clear dedication to Mother Earth.
With all those unanswerable questions swirling through his mind, Eli was still shocked when, in the back room of the shop, he found the strange avian from his vi
sion. He sat carefully on an old couch, looking so young and out of place it was mind numbing. “You,” Eli gasped out unintelligently. “You’re the one who helped us before.”
The avian smiled slightly. “Yes. I trust that my assistance was helpful for you and our common friends.”
“You know it was,” Dante pointed out. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here now.”
Their new companion released a small laugh. It sounded like bells, and oddly, memories of Manturanael flashed through Eli’s mind. Shaking himself, Eli focused on what the avian was saying now. “Indeed.” The young man moved his wings slightly, and the sound they made startled Eli. For the first time, Eli realized that the avian’s appendages didn’t have real feathers. Instead, they seemed to be formed out of mirrors.
They were beautiful, but in Eli’s opinion, quite unpractical. After all, how could someone fly with such frail feathers? Perhaps there was magic involved, because otherwise, Eli couldn’t explain it.
“They’re strange, aren’t they?” the avian asked Eli. Eli was horrified upon understanding he had been staring at the wings.
“No,” he hastily replied. “I mean, they’re lovely.”
This time, the young man’s smile was sad. “My blessing and my curse. But never mind that. Let me introduce myself. My name is Shurien. You will pardon me for not greeting you more properly, but alas, my condition makes it hard for me to have real contact with anyone.”
“So they break?” Dante asked hesitantly.
Shurien nodded. “Sadly, yes. I have to be very careful, lest I lose my gift.”
Eli wondered how the avian had managed to enter Tachaka in the first place. His problem clearly eliminated the possibility of stealth. But if the Imperator had sent him and Dante here, it meant that there had been a cooperation of sorts between Shurien and Aran. Eli honestly had no clue how that had come about, but he had no doubt that Aran was more than capable of pulling something like that off.
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