Blood Bound

by Becca Blake

  She never should have played his game and run in the first place.

  The ambassador sped up, and she quickened her own pace. As she turned the corner, the door that led to the back entrance of the kitchen came into view. All she had to do was reach it.

  Tired of the game, the vampire let out a snarl and closed the distance between himself and his prey in an instant.

  Just before he was able to grab her arm, Miria dove to the side and rolled into a glowing statue that was carved from leyline crystals. It fell to the ground and broke into pieces, which scattered all around her. She rolled to the side to get up, crying out in pain when one of the crystal shards slashed into her side.

  The vampire lunged for her again. Miria picked up what was left of the statue’s arm and smashed it into his head.

  “Fuck!” the ambassador snarled. His hand closed around her throat as he lifted her to her feet.

  She clawed at his arm, desperately grasping for a way to force him to lose his grip. In response, he slammed her against the wall.

  For a moment, her vision blurred to black.

  “This is precisely why Nero is a weak leader,” the ambassador growled. “He lets trash like you think you’re worth the musty air you breathe down here. He doesn’t deserve a city as grand as Terra Nocturne.”

  “Fuck Nero.” Miria gasped. “And fuck you.”

  The vampire slapped her. Though her cheek stung from the force of the blow, she held his gaze, refusing to look away.

  “Show some respect,” the vampire said. “An animal born and bred to be food will never rise to be anything greater than that, and it shouldn’t be allowed to think it will.” His hand drifted up the curve of her body.

  Miria softened in his grip. She had no hope of overpowering him, but if she could just make him think that she was throwing herself at him in an attempt to save herself, she might be able to reach one of her hidden daggers.

  The vampire’s eyes widened, then narrowed again.

  Instead of fighting back, she lifted her leg up, resting her boot against the wall behind her. “You’re right.”

  He grinned. “That’s better.”

  She pushed her chest against him.

  He kept one hand pinned around her throat while the other explored her chest. Miria reached back and pulled the dagger free from its sheath in her boot, moving slowly so she wouldn’t distract him from his wandering hands. She wrapped her leg around him, pulling him in close, and raised her arms like she meant to wrap those around him, too.

  In a swift movement, she slashed the dagger across the vampire’s neck. Blood spurted from the gash and sprayed across her dress and face. It dripped into her mouth, sickeningly sweet. She wiped her face, smearing the blood across her cheek and forearm.

  A gurgling sound came from his mouth as he fell to the floor. He clutched at his throat in a futile attempt to stop himself from bleeding out. He looked up at her, his eyes bulging with fear.

  “I am no animal. I was not born for captivity, and I will not settle for it.” She stood tall above him as he bled out. Once his body stilled, she leaned back against the castle wall to catch her breath. “Shit,” she muttered.

  Miria dragged his body into the nearest bedroom and swept the pieces of the shattered statue in with him. There wasn’t anything to be done for the deep red stains he left in the carpet, which meant this wasn’t a permanent solution. As soon as the ball ended and servants returned to their quarters, his body would be found. It wouldn’t be long before the ambassador’s companions realized he was missing, and they would know she was the one who murdered him. When they found out, she was as good as dead. Nero wouldn’t protect her from that—not after she’d killed an important vampire with whom he had a temporary truce. That it was self-defense wouldn’t matter. Not this time.

  She couldn’t stay, that much was clear. But where could she go? There was only one place she could be free of Nero and the other vampires: the surface.

  What better night to escape than during a ball? It seemed every vampire in Terra Nocturne was here at Nero’s castle. The exit might not be as heavily guarded as usual. As the plan came together in her mind, there was only one hurdle.

  After everything they’d been through together, she couldn’t leave Terra Nocturne without Azalea. Miria looked down at her dress, the emerald green stained with all the blood. She couldn’t return to the dining hall like this. She turned back toward her own room to dispose of the dress and find something new to wear. She closed the door behind her, then tossed a bag on the bed and began filling it with clothes and her few belongings.

  A knock, soft and hesitant, interrupted her preparations. Miria froze with her hand hovering over one of her daggers.

  “Who is it?” she called out.

  “It’s Irena.”

  “What do you want?” Miria gripped the dagger and crept toward the door.

  “I saw you leave the ball in a hurry, so I came to check on you. We need as much help as we can get waiting on the guests, so I figured I’d come talk to you and give you a chance to come back before telling Farraine you disappeared.”

  Miria suppressed a groan. Irena must not have noticed the vampire who followed her out of the hall.

  “I’m feeling ill,” Miria said. “I just need a few moments alone, and I’ll return to the ball to help.”

  Irena pushed the door open, unwilling to wait. “That’s not good eno—” Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of Miria, covered in blood with a dagger in her hand. Irena’s eyes darted around the room, searching for a body, but there was none to be found.

  “Just walk away, Irena,” Miria said. “You never saw anything.”

  “What have you done?” Irena asked.

  “A vampire attacked me. I need you to calm down,” Miria said, though her own voice was anything but calm.

  “Y-you killed a vampire during Lord Nero’s ball? We have to tell him!”

  Miria stepped forward and held out the dagger as a threat. “No.”

  Irena stumbled backward. “He’ll know what to do about this.”

  “Irena, stand aside,” Miria pleaded as she took slow steps toward the girl. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  Irena bit her bottom lip before spinning around to bolt away. She couldn’t be allowed to make it to Nero.

  Miria lunged forward after her. She grabbed Irena’s shoulder and spun her around. “Stop it,” she snapped.

  “Help!” Irena cried.

  Miria pressed her against the doorframe and covered her mouth with her hand. “Please, stop!”

  But Irena continued, her cries turning to screams that would soon draw attention, even with all of the noise in the ballroom.

  No matter the cost, Miria refused to die for Irena.

  She plunged the dagger into Irena’s gut.

  Irena crumpled to the ground with a scream. She stared at the blood leaking from her body with a mixture of horror and disbelief.

  “I’m sorry,” Miria said. “I told you to leave me alone. I warned you to drop it…” The words tumbled out, but Irena offered no response other than her pained wails.

  Miria pulled her back into their room and leaned her against the wall next to the door. The wound wasn’t necessarily a fatal one. Irena could survive it. But as her wails grew louder and more desperate, Miria realized that was a risk she couldn’t take. She glanced down the hallway. No one was coming—not yet.

  Miria knelt down next to Irena and wrapped her arms around her as though to comfort her. Irena flinched away from her touch, but she didn’t have the strength to pull away entirely.

  “I’m sorry,” Miria murmured again. “I’m so sorry.”

  She couldn’t risk someone hearing Irena’s cries and finding her before she had a chance to escape. To protect herself and Azalea, to have a chance to escape, she’d have to finish the
job.

  Through Irena’s heaving sobs in her arms, Miria slashed her throat.

  27

  Azalea sipped at her wine to dull the lingering feeling from the blood ritual. If she could attribute the unpleasant haze to drunkenness, at least it would feel more normal, more familiar. Less wrong.

  Nero hadn’t spoken to her much since they’d returned to their seats, instead favoring the company of the nobleman who sat beside him, leaving Azalea alone to sort through her thoughts and fears about what exactly had happened between them.

  She ignored the serving girl who pushed in from behind to slide a tray full of fruit on the table. As she reached for an apple, the girl grabbed her hand, and Azalea looked up at her.

  At some point since their time together in Nero’s room, Miria had changed into a pale, purple dress that complemented her hair color. Her hair had been pulled out from the elegant updo she’d worn earlier, left to hang wildly around her face in tight curls left over from her braids. Not for the first time, guilt struck Azalea at the thought of being waited on by her closest friend.

  Miria leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I need you to come with me. Right now.”

  “Right now? I can’t exactly get up and walk out. I’m a guest of honor,” she whispered back.

  Azalea reached out again for an apple, and Miria yanked the tray away from her. “You need to come now. It’s important.”

  She turned to face Miria, ready to tell her off, but she paused at the sight of her dress. Right below her ribs, was a spot, small but spreading, stained red. She looked up again to meet Miria’s eyes, wide with a frightening sense of urgency.

  “What happened?” Azalea asked. “What did you do?”

  “Just come with me. I’ll tell you on the way. Meet me in the entryway.” Miria disappeared into the crowd, heading for the front doors.

  She reached over to brush Nero’s shoulder. “Lord Nero, I’m not feeling well. I think the dance and drink have gone to my head.”

  He frowned, and for a moment she thought he might dispute that, but then his face softened. “Of course,” he agreed. “It has been a difficult night for you.” He reached over and held her wrist, fingers caressing the spot where he’d bitten her earlier.

  “I’d like to retire for the evening, if you would allow it.”

  Nero sipped at a glass of wine as he considered her request. “Then I will join you,” he said finally. “The party can carry on well enough without us.”

  “No,” Azalea said, almost too fast.

  Nero raised an eyebrow.

  “I’d hate to ruin the evening for you as well,” she said, squeezing his hand. “This is your ball, after all, and you haven’t finished socializing with your guests.”

  Nero kissed her hand. “Very well. Go rest. I’ll join you in our room later this evening.”

  Before she could walk away, Nero waved over one of his guards. Azalea smiled as she recognized Nic, the guard who had led her from the Third District to the First for her first visit to the castle. He returned her smile, along with a slight bow.

  “Accompany Lady Azalea to our quarters, and keep watch over her until I return,” Nero said.

  Lady?

  Her heart fluttered at the title. She’d have to remember to ask about it later.

  Nic bowed to Nero and gestured for Azalea to follow.

  “I’m sure I can make my way to our room on my own.”

  At that, Nero’s eyes narrowed. “Have you forgotten our dangerous guests?” he asked in a voice low enough that only she could hear. “I can’t allow that. My men will keep you safe tonight.”

  Azalea forced a smile and nodded. “Of course. Thank you, Lord Nero.”

  Whatever it was that Miria wanted, Azalea was certain the guard attending her would complicate things, but she wasn’t in a position to protest. And, of course, Nero was right—she knew well enough that those vampires wouldn’t hesitate to kill her, agreement with Nero or no.

  Nic escorted her to the entryway and started up the steps with her.

  When they made it to the top landing that led to Nero’s private suites, Azalea turned to him. “It is generous of you to leave the ball to escort me, but I’m sure I won’t need to be attended all night.”

  He shook his head. “Lord Nero advised—”

  Before he could finish the sentence, a blur of lavender and silver emerged from the shadows and leaped onto his back. The attacker slid a dagger across the guard’s throat, and he fell to the floor.

  Azalea gasped and brought her hands to her mouth.

  “Some guard he would’ve been against the vamps, if he couldn’t even protect you from me,” Miria said with a grin.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Azalea demanded.

  She crouched down to check on the vampire, to see if there was any chance he could survive the wound, but it was already too late. Nic had been kind to her. He’d treated her with respect.

  And now, he was dead.

  For Azalea’s sake, Nero had forgiven Miria for a great deal, but this wasn’t something she could come back from.

  Miria would be killed for this, and there was nothing Azalea could do to save her.

  “I had to get you away from him. We’re leaving. Right now.”

  “And going where, exactly?”

  “Home.” Miria pulled two backpacks from the shadows and tossed one to Azalea. “We’re going back to the surface.”

  Azalea gaped at Miria. “You’re either kidding, or an idiot.”

  “We don’t have time to argue.” Miria started down the stairs, expecting Azalea to follow, but she stayed put.

  “Why are you doing this?” Her voice, along with her heart, broke as she asked the question. “Just today, while we were getting ready for the masquerade ball, you said—”

  “I know what I said,” Miria snapped. “That was before the ambassador attacked me, and I had to kill him to defend myself.”

  Azalea gripped the railing to hold herself upright. “But if you killed one of the surface vampires…”

  “Then Nero’s stupid truce is over,” Miria finished, nodding. “I don’t imagine he’ll be very happy with me for that, do you?”

  Azalea bit her lip as she looked down at the guard’s corpse. “I don’t want to go,” she said quietly, as much to herself as to Miria.

  Miria’s face darkened. “Excuse me?”

  How could she explain the way she felt to Miria? She’d never understand how much Azalea had grown to love living in Terra Nocturne since moving to Nero’s palace. Intimidating as Nero could be, and as much as their new arrangement terrified her, she didn’t want to leave him, either.

  “You have to go without me.”

  Miria ran back up the steps. “Are you insane? Have you forgotten we’re prisoners here?” She kicked Nic’s body. “These fucking monsters have stolen everything from us.”

  “I’m not a captive anymore, Miria. Look at the life I have here.” Azalea gestured broadly at the castle. “Why would I want to leave this? This is where I choose to be.”

  “You would really betray your own people for some pretty dresses? You’d betray our friendship just to live in an underground castle, cut off from the rest of the world?”

  Miria paused, waiting for a response that Azalea couldn’t give.

  Miria had never been so angry in her entire life. Not when she’d first been torn away from everything she knew and brought to Terra Nocturne. Not even when she watched Zephyr die. While those things had sent her into an explosive fury, Azalea’s betrayal just left her broken and raw.

  The only friend she had left in the world would choose a monster over her. Nothing would ever hurt more than that.

  When she looked back at Azalea standing above her, she had to blink back tears. “Fine. If that’s the way you see it, you should j
ust run to Nero now and tell him what happened. Tell him what I did. Prove your loyalty to him and let him kill me.”

  The mocking sounds of merriment carried up from the dining hall below them. The ball didn’t seem like it would be over any time soon, but it was only a matter of time before someone left and found them on the stairs with a dead vampire guard. They didn’t have much time.

  Azalea reached for her. “Miria…”

  “Everything I’ve ever done was for you.” She couldn’t hold back the broken cries any longer. Tears fell freely down her cheeks, and her chest shook with every breath. “It’s my fault we’re down here. I was the one who had to save us. I’ve thought about the moment we would escape together every moment of every day.”

  “I didn’t want to be saved,” Azalea said. “I did everything I could to make our lives better. I was trying to save you, too, by securing you a place here at the palace with me. If we return to the surface world, I’ll be a nobody. Here, I can be the mistress of a noble and live like a queen. It’s not a bad deal.”

  “Do you even know what you agreed to tonight?”

  “No,” Azalea said. “I don’t. But I’m sure you don’t, either.”

  Miria shuddered at the memory of the conversation she’d overheard between the ambassador and his companions. “No, not exactly. But people were talking about it all night while I was waiting on tables at the ball. Maybe you didn’t hear it from up at your royal table, Your Majesty, but all night I heard people talking about the horrible things vampires do to their blood servants. It’s not just about the blood.”

  In the entryway below, a couple, giggling and stumbling with drunkenness, emerged from the dining hall. Miria pulled Azalea back into the shadows until the couple disappeared through the front door.

  “You need to hurry and leave,” Azalea said.

  “You’re not understanding me,” Miria said. Frustration crept into her voice. “From what they were saying, it sounded like blood servants lose their free will.”