Traitors

by Bella Forrest

  “Seraphina, please don’t do this to yourself!” I hissed desperately, but I could see she’d already made her decision. There was no way I was going to change her mind, not now that she’d resigned herself to Aurelius.

  “Go to Navan,” she urged, shoving me gently in his direction.

  I stumbled away, staggering into Navan’s arms, as Aurelius moved in. With a hungry look on his vile face, he grasped his new fiancée by the wrist and pulled her toward the Binding Font, where Gianne already stood, waiting to continue the ceremony. She picked up the ceremonial knife and handed it to Aurelius. Seraphina dutifully stretched her hands over the font basin, one facing up, one facing down.

  Navan’s arms slipped around my waist, but I couldn’t even turn to look at him. My eyes were fixed on the horrifying sight of Seraphina and Aurelius standing on opposite sides of the font, taking up the same position that she and Navan had, a short while before.

  “Seraphina, do you agree to bind your blood with mine and add it to the blood of centuries collected below—the blood of our ancestors that will, in turn, be joined by the blood of future generations?” Aurelius asked, his voice triumphant.

  Seraphina took a deep breath and looked up into her new partner’s eyes. “I agree to bind my blood with yours, Aurelius, and to share that which runs in my veins with the blood of past, present, and future.”

  Without hesitation, Aurelius plunged the sharp edge of the knife into Seraphina’s skin, the blood surging from the cut. It trickled down her forearm, dripping into the basin below, where it joined the gleaming mass of liquid—presumably, the blood of all those couples who had gone before. I was only just realizing that was the substance that sloshed around in the font basin, somehow staying liquid over the years.

  As soon as enough droplets had fallen into the basin, he handed the ceremonial blade to Seraphina. She gripped it in her free hand, her knuckles whitening. In her position, she had to be thinking about plunging the blade into Aurelius’s heart, just to be rid of him. She wouldn’t, with the queen watching, but I figured part of her wanted to.

  “Aurelius, do you agree to bind your blood with mine and add it to the blood of centuries collected below—the blood of our ancestors that will, in turn, be joined by the blood of future generations?” she asked, her hand still trembling on the knife hilt.

  He grinned. “I agree to bind my blood with yours, Seraphina, and to share that which runs in my veins with the blood of past, present, and future.”

  Lifting the sharp point to Aurelius’s wrist, she pressed the blade in, until blood rose to the surface. It oozed from his dark veins, trickling down into the basin, the bulbous droplets hitting the gleaming mass of mixed blood with a disgusting gloop. His grin widened with every step that brought him closer to having Seraphina as his wife, and I wanted to smack it off his face.

  “I offer you this, to unify our bodies, our minds, and our spirits, so that we may become one,” she continued, taking the cup of wax and leaves and dipping it into the basin of ancient Vysanthean blood.

  “I accept this, to unify our bodies, our minds, and our spirits, so that we may become one,” he repeated, taking the full cup and sipping from the eerie liquid. I shuddered as I heard him gulp it down, before he handed the same cupful to her.

  She drank down the remnants. As she did so, I noticed rivulets of blood running out of the cup’s exterior. I realized she’d listened to my joke and put tiny holes in the cup to signal the start of a bad marriage. No doubt, she’d done it to bring me comfort throughout the ceremony, letting me know that her marriage to Navan was just for show. Now, however, it carried a very different meaning. She could never have known that it would be a premonition.

  “Your blood runs in my veins,” Aurelius began. “My blood runs in your veins.”

  “Your blood runs in my veins,” Seraphina echoed. “My blood runs in your veins.”

  “Blood of the future, and blood of the ancestors,” Aurelius continued. “Now, we are one.”

  “Blood of the future, and blood of the ancestors,” Seraphina replied. “Now, we are… one.”

  Queen Gianne smiled, opening out her arms. “Now, you are husband and wife!”

  A cheer went up from all those who had crept back into the chapel and those who had remained. Everyone was smiling, congratulating the happy couple, but nobody’s smile was wider than that of Aurelius. He was the cat that had gotten the cream, and I despised him for it.

  Seraphina forced a smile onto her face, but it was fooling no one. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain she was feeling as I remembered all the awful things Aurelius had said to her before the wedding. Soon enough, all those terrible acts would become a reality, and there was nothing anyone could do to save her now.

  Worst of all, however, was the pang of relief that surged through me, knowing Navan wasn’t getting married to someone else. It was a horribly selfish part of me that felt that way, and I loathed myself for even thinking it, but I couldn’t switch it off. For as long as I lived, I knew I would feel guilty for that, and I promised myself I would do whatever I could to help Seraphina, to make amends.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Queen Gianne departed as soon as the ceremony was over, while Aurelius whisked his new bride away, bundling her into a waiting ship and disappearing into the night. Seraphina didn’t struggle against him but accepted her fate with all the grace she possessed, stoic to the bitter end. I watched the ship go from the steps of the chapel, wishing there was more I could do. Judging by the look on Navan’s face, he felt the same.

  “Come on,” he muttered. “I think it’s time I paid my father a visit.”

  I reached for his hand, pulling him back. “What about the pickup?”

  “Yeah, they should be here within the hour,” Ronad chimed in, brandishing the black box device that he’d brought from the cottage. A dialogue screen had pinged up, and though I couldn’t read it, I knew it was from the seller. Navan was clearly angry, but we had a package to collect.

  He pulled a face. “Forget the pickup. We can rearrange.”

  “You know what darkstar sellers are like, Navan. They’ll just give it to the next bidder,” Ronad replied.

  “Fine, then they give it to the next bidder,” he snapped. “Right now, I couldn’t give a damn about a suit of armor pieced together from a load of dead guys. I need to speak to my father!”

  I moved in front of him, forcing him to look at me. “We can visit him after we’ve made the pickup. What difference can an hour make now?”

  “It will make all the difference to me,” he murmured, his chin sinking to his chest.

  “And if we lose the armor?” I pressed.

  “We’ll browse through the darkstar market again, until we can find something they’ll like just as much. I doubt it’ll be too hard.”

  I flashed a worried look at Ronad, who offered a reluctant shrug in reply. There was nothing Navan could do to help Seraphina now—she was a married woman. Still, I could understand the desire for revenge. Someone had to pay for what had happened today, and it was obvious where Navan’s wrath was aimed. Only one person could have signed that document, since it would’ve been hard for Aurelius to forge a fingerprint.

  “Then I guess we’re visiting the Regium dungeons,” I conceded, lifting his chin.

  “You mean it?”

  I nodded. “Come on, let’s get going before anyone notices we’ve left.”

  Casting an anxious look over my shoulder, I realized nobody was concerned about us. Not a single soul was watching as we stood in the doorway; they were all too consumed by their own needs. The Idrax brothers were clustered around their mother, fanning her and trying to bring some vitality back to her limp frame. Evidently, the shock of what had happened had been too much for Lorela, sending her back over the edge of mental instability. Meanwhile, Seraphina’s parents were parading around the place, enjoying the congratulations of those who had lingered. By all accounts, there would be a party at their hous
e and everyone was invited, though I doubted those invitations would extend to the snubbed ex-groom, a former coldblood, and a foreign pet.

  Without pausing to say a single goodbye, we hurried out of the chapel and headed for the patch of grass where everyone had parked their vehicles. As we ran, Ronad cast a longing glance at the purple orb beneath the blood-red fronds of the willow.

  “We’ll come back for her soon,” I promised.

  “It’s okay,” he replied, pressing a hand to his heart. “She’s always here. I don’t need to see her hologram to remember the woman I love. It’s just a nice reminder, sometimes.”

  Navan skidded to a halt in front of the vessel he’d come to the wedding in, only to realize that we didn’t have a way of opening it. He slammed his hand against the hatch panel, but it just gave a sad beep. The chauffeur was still inside the chapel, and Kaido’s ship would be locked, too.

  “Are you looking to journey home?” a voice asked in the darkness.

  “Kaido, is that you?” I asked.

  He stepped out of the shadows, wielding a small silver disc. “I thought you might be eager to return to the cottage when I saw you rush out of the chapel without saying a word. I realize how utterly mortifying this must be for you, Navan. That was a very public humiliation. You have my sincerest condolences.”

  I gripped Navan’s wrist, holding him back. “He doesn’t mean anything by it,” I whispered.

  “Anyway, I thought I would offer you the key to my ship, so you might take it back to the cottage and hide there until the embarrassment eases. I will join you there soon, but Mother must be returned to the hospital, and I was the only one who volunteered to go in the ambulance with her,” Kaido explained. “Do not drive my ship too recklessly. I still have several plants that are averse to sudden movements in the cargo hold.”

  “Thank you, Kaido. I will be sure to drive safely,” Navan said stiffly, as he took the offered disc out of Kaido’s hands.

  He smiled, pleased with himself. “I can concoct some Elysium for you, if you wish.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Navan grimaced, his mouth set in a grim line.

  “That is likely a wise option,” Kaido mused. “Memory serums are not my forte, and they are temperamental at best. You might end up losing years instead of hours!” Chuckling to himself, he blended back into the shadows, returning to Lorela and the rest of the Idrax clan. I felt sorry for him, knowing he was only caring for Lorela because of what he felt he “owed” her, even now. Surely, it was time one of the other Idrax brothers stepped up to the plate?

  “How come nobody else looks after your mother?” I asked, as we headed for Kaido’s ship.

  Navan gave a wry laugh. “They’ve gained everything they can from her. She gave birth to them, raised them, watched them fly the nest. Now that they’re no longer at home, she isn’t their concern anymore. Jareth still offers money and reputation, which is why they’ll never stop pandering for his attention, but my mother serves no purpose to them.”

  I didn’t have any particularly good feelings toward Lorela, but it still seemed tragic that the rest of her children had all but abandoned her. Kaido was the only exception, yet she didn’t even view him as one of her own.

  “That’s so sad,” I said.

  Ronad shook his head. “No, that’s Vysanthe.”

  After reaching Kaido’s ship, we clambered aboard, Navan taking up his position in the cockpit. A moment later, with the silver disc in place and the coordinates typed in, the ship rose, and we left the soft glow of the chapel behind us.

  I caught sight of another building, not far from the chapel. Its ramshackle roof was barely visible in the silvery glow of the moonlight. I guessed it was the groundskeeper’s hut, where Navan had instructed the darkstar seller to bring the item so we could make the exchange. I had a bad feeling about leaving without the item we’d come for. But there was no way I could persuade Navan to turn around now.

  * * *

  Forty minutes later, we arrived at the mountain range that encircled Regium. I’d expected Navan to set the ship down somewhere outside it, or even within the city’s natural walls, but instead the vessel rose, surging through the clouds.

  A spinning glass station appeared in the sky, turning slowly. I realized that an image of the skyscape had been projected onto the underside of the building, to keep it hidden from sight. Through the glass panels, hunched figures pressed against the outer panes, their eyes staring mournfully out at an endless sky. A few stood as we passed, banging their fists against the glass, their mouths open in silent screams.

  “Are these the dungeons?” I gasped.

  Ronad peered over my shoulder. “Doesn’t look too shabby for a prison, right?”

  “Why have it way up here? Can’t they just escape and fly away?”

  Ronad shook his head. “Not all the prisoners here are Vysanthean, and those that are—they clip their wings with metal clamps, to stop them from breaking out. It’s easier to keep them up here, out of sight of the ‘good’ civilians below.”

  I was about to ask more when the ship began to descend, heading for a flat expanse of metal jutting from the side of the spinning circle. It landed with a jolt, and I braced myself against the curved walls. Up ahead, armed guards stood in front of a heavy door, their pikes crossed, their faces streaked with black and red.

  As the cockpit door opened, I stared in disbelief at Navan, who stepped out shirtless, halfway through strapping his injured wing to his side while he tucked the other one away. Now that he had the artificial attachment, the injured wing no longer slid under his shoulder blades, unless he removed the fixture first. Knowing he might need to fly at a moment’s notice, he had taken to binding it instead. With that done, he slid two blades into the bandages, then threw his suit jacket back on and buttoned up the front.

  “You two still have your weapons, right?” he asked casually.

  “You can’t be serious,” I replied, aghast. “You want us to fight our way into a prison?”

  He grinned. “I’m not waiting around for them to let us in.”

  With that, he punched the button that opened the main hatch and strode down the gangway. Ronad and I exchanged a worried glance before hurrying after him. As we approached the glowering guards, I’d never been more conscious of having a gun strapped to one leg and a set of knives strapped to the other. It almost felt like they could see right through my dress, which definitely wasn’t fighting attire. Had I known there was going to be a brawl, I’d have changed.

  “State your business,” one of the guards demanded.

  “I am here at the behest of Queen Gianne, to speak with Jareth Idrax. He signed a document, and the queen wishes to know when the prisoner signed it,” Navan explained.

  The guard frowned. “We haven’t been told of any arrivals today.”

  The other guard shoved him in the arm. “Why would anyone tell us? Everyone else is home with their families, cozy as can be, enjoying the ceasefire. Meanwhile, we’re standing here like idiots, running a skeleton crew.”

  “Shut up!” the first guard snapped, glaring at his colleague. “For Rask’s sake, your mouth is going to get us in trouble one of these days!”

  “Sadly, that day is today,” Navan said with a grin, and he punched the first guard hard in the face. He grabbed the second by the neck and slammed the side of his hand into a nerve, where his shoulder met his spine, rendering him temporarily unconscious. It was an Aksavdo move I knew well, though it only worked if you managed to take your victim by surprise. Judging by the still-shocked expression on the crumpled guard’s face, Navan had done just that.

  While the first guard tried to scramble for the alarm, Navan gripped him around the waist and turned him upside down, slamming his head on the solid metal ground. For a moment, I thought I was back at home watching wrestling on cable TV, but this was very real. The guard’s skull thudded as it hit the floor, and the vibration of it shivered through my legs. It sounded nasty, but it wasn’t
an Aksavdo move that was intended to kill. Even so, I knew the poor guard would have one hell of a headache when he woke up.

  “We’ve got to get them inside!” Navan urged, plucking an ID device from one of the guard’s pockets. He swiped it over the entrance panel, and the blast door slid open with a wheeze of heavy machinery. Beyond, a small foyer branched into two hallways, both curving to make either half of the spinning circle.

  Navan took one of the guards while Ronad took the other. They dragged the two men down a wide, bright corridor into what looked like a holding pen, where prisoners were undoubtedly kept when they first arrived at the facility. After throwing the guards inside, Navan swiped the ID device over another glowing panel. The door swung shut, the lock sliding into place. They wouldn’t be bothering us for a while.

  “Do you know where your father is?” I asked.

  Navan shook his head. “No, but I’ve got a feeling this will tell me where the bastard is hiding.” He walked over to a screen on the wall and swiped the guard’s ID device across it, before typing in his father’s name. A moment later, it bleeped, revealing the whereabouts of Jareth Idrax. “This way!” he yelled, tearing down the hallway to the left.

  From what I could tell, the slowly turning structure had four floors, and though the outer edge of the circle was made of glass, the interior circle was chrome, with the occasional glass panel. It meant the corridors would be blinding in the daytime, and fiercely hot, with the piercing light glancing from the metal into the cells that ran around the far side. I supposed it was some sort of punishment, the light and heat making it as uncomfortable as possible. Right now, the dark of night had made it cold, though strip lights illuminated the facility.

  As we hurried down the hallway, I couldn’t quite see into the jail cells lining the wall to my left. A pane of frosted, reinforced glass separated the corridor from the prisoners, so all I could discern were shapes moving around inside. Occasionally, someone would bang on the pane, startling me, a muffled voice crying out for help. A shiver of unease ran up my spine.