Surrendering to the impulse, Aran buried his fangs in Valerian’s throat. It was forbidden for any person to drink the blood of a member of the imperial family, but he was Imperator. He could do whatever he wanted to. None of them, not even Antemia or his older sons, could argue against that. As long as he still had breath in his body, they were traitors to Tachaka and its people.
He realized his mistake moments after Valerian’s blood hit his tongue. Almost instantly, he smelled the poison, and he recoiled, tearing his mouth away from his son’s neck. But it was already too late. A few of Valerian’s memories flashed through his mind’s eye. He found the answers to all his questions, and he knew that this time around, he’d been outsmarted. It seemed that Valerian was more alike to Aran than he himself had originally thought. Somehow, Valerian had seduced Antemia into helping him. It was definitely an interesting, if unexpected, strategy, one that might very well lead to Aran’s death.
Clutching his bleeding neck, Valerian staggered back. Aran met his son’s eyes and lifted his arm, ready to slit Valerian’s throat. He never got the chance because the poison was already rushing through him. A strange lassitude flowed over him, and his knees buckled. He might have been able to steady himself, but Valerian’s magic struck him. For the first time in years, Aran’s power failed him, and he fell to the floor.
At this show of weakness, Valerian burst into laughter. “Antemia was right. You are pathetic. You think so highly of yourself that you couldn’t detect the most basic of plans.”
Aran knew what his son meant. This was exactly what Dante had tried once. At that time, Aran had managed to scent the poison. Blood Freedom was a potion concocted by the elves against the bloodkin. Any of Aran’s kind who drank the blood of someone who had ingested the poison would be killed.
Even so, Aran refused to abandon the fight, and his dignity, so easily. “And how did you intend to avoid the inquisitors’ investigation?” Aran inquired. “They will be able to read your treachery in your blood.”
His son shrugged. “Inquisitors are people as well. Everyone has their price, Father. I managed to convince a priest to join my cause. I can do so with your famous inquisitors.”
To a certain extent, Valerian was correct. The inquisitors were no longer the incorruptible force that had helped Aran rebuild the nation. However, even if all outside factors were eliminated, Valerian’s plan held significant holes.
The fact that Valerian had been willing to chance taking the poison himself spoke volumes of the younger bloodkin’s determination. True enough, logic stated that the substance had to enter the blood stream directly for it to have an effect on the carrier. This meant that one of Aran’s people could drink it if he or she did so the human way. Still, the very point of Blood Freedom was that, if a bloodkin fed from the carrier of the poison, the substance would rush through the veins of the latter in order to reach its target. Surely Valerian knew that. Surely he must realize that in his quest to get rid of Aran, he’d sealed his own fate.
“You are a fool, Valerian,” he said, frustrated with the weak sound of his own voice. “You don’t realize what you’ve done. I might die because of this, but so will you.”
“You’re wrong. We modified the poison. It’s…” Valerian trailed off, his grin vanishing. He leaned against the wall and slid onto the floor. “What’s going on?”
“I told you already,” Aran pointed out. “There’s no way to avoid that particular effect of the poison. It was created to work like this, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t change it.”
If Aran ventured a guess, he’d bet money that the modifications his son had implemented slowed down the effect of the poison. Normally, Blood Freedom worked much faster. By now, Aran should have been at least unconscious.
Taking a deep breath, Aran gathered his remaining strength. He refused to die like this. There had to be a way for him to save himself, and perhaps Valerian. Valerian might deserve this fate, but in his heart, Aran still loved his son.
He wished now he had been a better parent. If he’d gotten more involved in the lives of his children, this could have been avoided. But it was too late for regrets. The time for action had come.
In spite of the weakness flooding his body, Aran struggled to his feet. In Valerian’s memories, he had seen both sides of his son’s plan. If Aran hadn’t figured out Valerian’s deception, his son would have taken him out of the cell, then argued that Aran had been trying to escape in order to kill him. As such, there were guards waiting to intercept Aran. If he could reach them, he might have a chance to at least help his son.
From a rational point of view, he would be better off allowing Valerian to die. Then, in case Aran didn’t survive, Dante would become Imperator with little resistance. But Aran had committed enough mistakes in raising his children. He didn’t want them to pay for it. Valerian deserved the same chance Aran had given Dante.
With that thought in mind, Aran dragged himself into the corridor. Following his son’s memories, he headed in the direction where the soldiers would be waiting. His vision was growing dim already, but he sustained his body through sheer willpower. He heard voices up ahead and opened his mouth to explain what had happened. His vocal chords simply refused to work. He saw the guards rushing toward him, with Antemia leading them.
They had their weapons drawn, and Aran decided that since he couldn’t speak to them, he had to show them. It might be a good thing that Antemia herself had decided to join the show. Perhaps she could find a way to save her lover.
Aran backed away, heading toward the cell once again. As he entered it, he saw that Valerian had fallen still and unconscious, now barely breathing. The jagged wound at his neck looked almost obscene against his pale flesh.
Dazed and feeling weaker than ever, Aran knelt next to his son, intending to help him somehow. Some part of him grasped that he didn’t have the means for it, but he was running on instinct and he couldn’t help himself. However, as he reached for Valerian, his pursuers burst into the cell. Antemia released a gasp when she saw him. “Mother Earth, he’s gone insane. Take him out.”
Aran just stared at the group as the guards pointed their weapons at him, their magic creating a ball of tension inside the cell. At this point, he couldn’t say anything or move a muscle, the poison incapacitating his body’s every function. Some of the men seemed to show some hesitance in attacking him, but sadly, that couldn’t help him now.
Finally, the lingering remnants of his strength dissipated and he collapsed in a heap onto the floor. The soldiers looked taken aback. Some of them must have known about the poison, but those who didn’t seemed genuinely shocked. Either way, no one appeared to be particularly inclined to act as the killer of the Imperator.
Finally, it was Antemia who grabbed a spear from one of the soldiers and directed the sharp tip at Aran. He could barely see her now, his vision fuzzy and dim. Even so, he did acknowledge the fact that he was likely moments away from being murdered.
But then, something happened that Aran hadn’t expected. Antemia released a garbled cry and dropped the spear. She turned to look out into the corridor once again, and as she did so, Aran saw an arrow embedded in her neck.
Pride and frustration warred within Aran. He supposed it had been too much to expect Dante to stay away from the palace. He worried about his son, but he trusted that Mother Earth would take care of Dante. More importantly, with this knowledge came another one. Dante would make an amazing Imperator. That realization gave Aran peace, and he succumbed to the darkness with a final prayer for all of his sons.
* * * * A long time ago, the elves had perfected the art of stealth and defense. Their home island of Manturanael was inaccessible to anyone outside their species. Taking this into account, one would have thought that elves would have stopped focusing on military education, but that was not the case. From a very early age, elven youths were taught how to wield weapons, more specifically, but not exclusively, bows.
Eli was no exception to th
is rule. In fact, he’d always been very skilled at archery, and also at other techniques that complimented marksmanship. Therefore, when the time came for him to participate in the attack, he was completely in his element.
In a few seconds, his eyes took in the clear picture of what was going on. The Imperator and his middle son were lying unconscious on the floor. A woman Eli didn’t recognize threatened Aran with a spear. Eli acted without even thinking about it. As he shot, the bow felt like an extension of him, and as always, his arrow hit true.
The woman screeched like a banshee and dropped the weapon, turning toward him. “Well, at least we distracted her,” Eli said with a grin.
“Get ready,” Vane warned them. “This won’t be easy. Aran never did have a taste for weak lovers.”
So the woman was Aran’s ex. Damn, being a bloodkin was complicated. Eli had many times resented the limitations placed upon him by his ancestry, but compared to what he’d seen here, his family life had been perfect.
“She’s not your mother, is she?” he whispered to Dante.
“Err…No,” Dante answered. “Gideon’s. Her name is Antemia.”
Behind them, their new avian companion, a man named Roshan, cleared his throat. “While this is all very fascinating, I do believe we’re not here to discuss family trees.”
Roshan was a member of the Seer Guard, especially trained avians who protected Shurien at all times. He also happened to be Shurien’s father, although from what Eli could tell, the two didn’t have a real relationship. In fact, Eli had actually heard Roshan call Shurien Seer, and he didn’t think that the older avian did that only when they were in public.
But that was none of Eli’s business. His concern lay with getting himself, his friends, and his lover out of this situation, while still managing to rescue Aran. It wouldn’t be easy, given that they’d only snuck a limited force inside the palace. As it turned out, Shurien had come accompanied by a good number of avians, something which the Imperator had, apparently, condoned. Since they couldn’t exactly take an army into the imperial residence, two task forces had been created. Eli, Dante, Vane, and Roshan formed the first one, while Cole, Kier, the high priest, and two other avians made up the second. Marlais had agreed to stay with Shurien since neither of them were a match for bloodkin in a physical battle. So far, the operation had gone well, and splitting into two groups allowed them to sweep through the dungeons of the palace without wasting time.
This proved to be a good decision since it certainly looked like the Imperator was in trouble. Fortunately, Eli’s attack drew Antemia’s attention away from Aran, but Eli could still see the Imperator a little. He suspected that Aran had already been severely injured and needed urgent medical attention.
Antemia wasn’t about to be defeated so easily, though. She tore out the arrow using her mental abilities, a remarkable feat indeed given that the projectile should have at least incapacitated her. She was clearly having trouble speaking, but somehow, she managed to utter one word, “Attack!”
Eli’s presence, as well as Roshan’s, seemed to anger the bloodkin guards, and they lunged forward. Eli wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. He retrieved more arrows and aimed at the approaching foes. He managed to anticipate even the way some of the soldiers dodged, and each arrow struck its target.
Of course, the guards were far too resilient for one arrow to take them down. As the group approached, Eli’s companions attacked as well. Now that he’d recovered his flesh-and-bone form, Dante had his magic back. With Vane’s assistance, he intercepted the bloodkin who would have assaulted Eli and Shoran using telekinesis. The avian seemed well versed in handling such battles, and he leapt to assist the two. Naturally, Eli didn’t delay in following their example and attacked as well.
The bloodkin guards were well trained, but Eli and his companions held more power. Eli’s real concern lay in that they were taking too long in reaching Aran. Something told him that time was quickly running out for the Imperator.
He didn’t know how much they’d have been delayed had a familiar voice not suddenly shouted, “Stop!” Eli instantly recognized it, and it shocked him so much that he leapt back, narrowly avoiding an attack from a bloodkin soldier. With the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Dante immobilizing one of his opponents before jumping next to Eli.
“Stop,” Thomson repeated, stepping between Dante and the remaining foes. “You don’t want to harm the next Imperator.”
“My son is the heir to the throne,” Antemia managed to say. The injury from Eli’s arrow made her voice sound husky, but the message came out loud and clear.
“That’s a lie, and you know it,” Thomson shot back. “According to the new law, Prince Dante is the Imperator’s chosen.”
“The Imperator isn’t supposed to elect his own heir,” one of the soldiers dared to say.
“No, he isn’t,” Thomson shot back. “Prince Gideon was supposed to be the next Imperator, but what with Antemia’s involvement in this ploy, he would be automatically suspected of murdering his father. If you’re relying on a reward from Valerian, however, you’ll be disappointed to learn that Imperator Aran modified the law.”
“Lies!” Antemia gurgled out.
“Do you want to risk it?” Thomson asked, glaring.
The soldiers hesitated, which made Dante act. “Look, I don’t care about the throne,” he shouted, throwing his hands up. “All I want is to save my father. Now, will you get out of my way or will you rather get trialed for treason?”
At last, the bloodkin acknowledged the truth. Their situation was already precarious, but if Dante was indeed the heir, they were all likely wondering what in the world they were going to do now.
In the end, it was all very easy. One of the men stepped aside, and everyone else followed his example. Dante rushed past them, and Eli followed him, his heart hammering as he prayed to the Mother Earth for Aran’s survival.
What he found in the cell took him aback. Aran and Valerian were both unconscious on the floor. Eli took one look of them and said, “Blood Freedom.”
He and Dante had attempted to use the poison on the Imperator once before. It made no sense that Aran would fall for it now. And how had Valerian gotten involved in all of this?
As if guessing Eli’s dilemma, Thomson proceeded to explain. “It looks like Valerian was behind it the whole time. The Imperator ordered me to investigate while his foes deemed him incapable of resisting their coup, but…I was too slow.”
Was it Eli’s impression, or did the wraith look a little heartbroken? He could only imagine what the connection between Thomson and Aran could be. Also, he had not forgotten that Eli himself had contacted the spy to request his assistance in sending a message to Dante. Had Aran known about it all along? It was a sobering thought, one that made Eli wonder exactly what else Aran had figured out and planned.
It didn’t really matter, because they hadn’t come here to ask questions. Eli wasn’t ready to give up on Aran, not when he knew how much the bloodkin Imperator meant for Dante.
Even if Eli and Dante hadn’t managed to complete their bond, Eli could already sense his mate’s pain. He refused to accept it. They had to find a way to fix this, or it would all be for naught.
Most people thought that no cure existed against Blood Freedom. Eli was in the unique position of knowing this was not the case. As the son of the light elf leader, he’d been made aware of the truth in this regard. The effects of the substance could be countered. Unfortunately, Eli didn’t know how to do it. The only people who did were beyond his reach, in the home he’d left behind for Dante.
However, in spite of the differences between himself and his father, Eli still had faith in Sorr. He still believed that the older man wouldn’t just let a person die if he could help it, even if the individual in question was bloodkin.
Besides, Valerian’s situation couldn’t be forgotten either. Valerian was still very young, and while his actions toward his father were unpardonable, light elves had to
o much respect for life to allow Valerian to just perish.
Oblivious to Eli’s thoughts, Dante dropped to his knees next to his father. In the meantime, more bloodkin stepped into the cell, clustering around the Imperator and Valerian. “What do we do?” one of the men asked.
“Prince Valerian needs blood,” someone offered. “The Imperator must have drunk quite a lot from him.”
Dante shot the man in question an angry look. “Are you an idiot? It’s not blood loss that has him unconscious. It’s the poison.”
His body was as tense as a bowstring, and he seemed ready to pounce on the guard any moment now. Eli pressed a hand to his mate’s shoulder and said, “Don’t. Now is not the time for that, Dante. We need to get them both to Hashiraden.”
Dante’s gaze immediately turned toward him. “Hashiraden?” he repeated in disbelief. “Why, Eli? They exiled you just because you helped Kier and came in contact with Vane in the process. You can’t possibly think that they’d help us. Besides, there’s no cure for Blood Freedom.”
“That’s not exactly true.” Eli would have been surprised that his mate hadn’t seen this information in his memories, but Dante had only fed from him a few times, and Eli’s focus had never been on the poison. “I believe the high priest of my people would know how to heal them, but we have to hurry.”
“I’m not sure if this is such a good idea,” Thomson started to protest.
“The wraith is correct,” Antemia piped up. “You’re mad if you think the elves will help us in any way.”
“Be silent!” Dante shouted at her. “No one asked for your opinion. It does indeed seem likely that we’ll be refused. However, we don’t have a choice. The alternative would be to let them die without even trying, and that is simply unacceptable. Thomson, make yourself useful and find Gideon. We need some organization while I’m gone.”
With a nod, the wraith dissipated into thin air. Eli had honestly never understood the true extent of a wraith’s abilities, but he was glad to have one on his side. Even if Thomson had betrayed Eli and his mate, he appeared to have some form of loyalty toward Aran. Right now, that was the only thing that mattered.
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