by T. S. Ryder
“Do you not know who I am?” he demanded in mock outrage. “I am Alastair Thorne, Crown Prince of Varlyn. These garments are nothing to me.” He commanded the dressmaker to make Avery an entire wardrobe of new clothes. Her old caravan rags were burned.
“Never again,” he whispered to her. She stood naked in front of him, her clothes a pile on the ground. “You will always wear fine clothes, I promise you,” he said.
They fell into bed together, making love on the fine bolts of fabric. Wrapping their naked bodies in the finest cloth the Kingdom had.
Avery’s nomadic life had put her in contact with many different cultures. She spoke five languages and could read three. She knew the lay of the land, the merchants and the rulers. He talked to her about everything—his worry over the Fire Islands, his plan to destroy the Mages living in The Sands and the weight of the expectations of his father and his people.
Avery did not judge him. She listened and held his head in her lap. She told him that he was a great Lord and he would go on to do great things. He could be himself around her. He didn’t need to preen or pretend. He never had to put on airs. He had never felt so relaxed and free in his entire life.
He had almost forgotten the date. It was the seventeenth of the month, the one night that he and Myrcel must spend together. In the last few weeks, he had almost forgotten he had a wife. He had been free of her annoyed expression and her disgust with him. There had been no functions where they were forced to pretend to be a happy couple. It had, in fact, been over nine days since he had last seen her.
“I will be...away tonight,” he said to Avery. She was lying naked in bed, a blanket wrapped up around her. He traced a hand down her shoulder and her chest. “But you must know how hard it is for me to leave you.”
“Then why must you?” she asked. Her grey eyes shined up at him and he could not stop himself from sitting down on the bed and pulling her close. She raked her hand across his chest and he moaned quietly.
“I love it when you do that,” he whispered, his mouth pressed against her forehead.
“If you did not have to leave I could do it all night,” Avery teased.
“Do not tempt me. I must go and do my duty,” he said.
“What duty?” she asked, pulling away from him and looking up into his face. Her eyes were wide and her expression so innocent. He didn’t want to tell her where he was going or what he had to do. She would be threatened by Myrcel and she had no need to be. Myrcel was nothing to him, she was nothing compared to Avery.
He opened his mouth and closed it and then took a deep breath before speaking slowly. “She is my wife and I must go to her as a husband goes to his wife.”
Avery’s face went pale, she pulled away. He missed her touch the moment it was gone. She looked down at the floor. It felt like his heart was being torn from his chest. This was what made Avery different. He never wanted to see her in pain. The sight of tears brimming in Avery’s eyes made him question this one thing he knew he had to do to maintain his position.
“Avery, it is a job, nothing more,” he said. He put his hand on her shoulder, but she did not lean into him as she normally would have. Her body remained stiff under his touch, like a statue.
“I understand. I should never have expected anything different,” she said, shaking her head in an attempt to clear her tears. “I know I’m not your wife. I’m...nothing-”
“Don’t say that,” Alastair said, his voice stern. He took her chin in his hand and turned her until she looked into his eyes. “You are not nothing. You are everything to me. You are the only woman I want in my bed, but I am not a normal man. I am the Crown Prince and I have obligations that cannot be ignored.”
She nodded. He wished she would have yelled and screamed at him. He wished she would have stormed off and slammed the door behind her. But instead, she looked up at him sadly and nodded as a tear tracked down her cheek.
He left her in his bed. His steps were heavy as he walked the distance to Myrcel’s rooms. Every footstep was torture, his legs felt like they were tied to rocks. It seemed to take forever for him to traverse the long hallway.
He had never taken any joy in this. Now he hated it. He hated being pulled away from Avery, he hated that he could not spend the night with her. He hated Myrcel. At the door to her chamber, he placed his hand on the painted wood and waited for one moment. It was not too late. He could still turn around and go back to the beautiful woman who wanted him.
But he knew he could never do such a thing. He was the Crown Prince and Myrcel was his wife. If she felt she was being mistreated, she would call her father and the chaos and danger of the Fire Islands would only grow. He did not like it, but he knew he must do it.
Pushing open the door, he saw his wife waiting for him. She sighed heavily and crossed her arms as the door closed behind him.
Chapter Eight
It was like he had something he needed to make up to her. In the days after his visit to Myrcel, Alastair would not stop doting on Avery. Jewels were laid out before her. Diamond necklaces accented with rubies and sapphires, gold earrings and bracelets. All for her, he whispered into her neck.
Didn’t he understand she didn’t need any of that? She only needed him. She tried not to think about his wife down the hall, the cold, beautiful Vampire Princess who could have killed Avery in a second. She was his wife, but Avery was his everything else. She was his friend, confidant and lover. She was all of the things a wife was meant to be, but she was still not his wife.
It was enough, though just to lie in bed with him, to laugh with him and sleep beside him. She no longer had to travel with her father, she no longer had to steal or lie. There was no more leaving a city in the dead of night, running away from angry dogs or sleeping in the dirt. He had rescued her from all of that. Alastair was her salvation.
When she first felt the rumblings within her, she didn’t say anything. She was sick in the morning, her breasts were tender. But it was too soon to say. The fact that this baby would be the bastard son of the Crown Prince meant both she and it were in danger.
One afternoon, when Alastair was gone, she put her hands on her stomach, her palm flat against her flesh as a wave of nausea passed through her. “Is that you, little baby?” she asked the air. It made sense. She and Alastair had been with each other practically every night. This was the logical conclusion of those activities: a baby. She could see it in her mind. It would be a boy who would have Alastair’s dark eyes and hair. She could see him running along the ramparts, her heart swelled at the thought. A baby. She had never wanted one before. They had seemed like too much trouble and work, but that had been in her old life with her abusive father. Now, with Alastair, things could be different. She could have a real family. Or, could she?
She was lost in her thoughts thinking about her baby when suddenly the door to the room opened. Avery sat up in shock. The only person who entered without knocking was Alastair himself. But it was not her lover who looked back at her from the doorway, it was her brother.
Avery was frozen with fear. Her violent, drunk, angry brother was here. Her brother who had more than once tried to sell her away to the brothels in town. Her brother that used to take her food and make her walk alongside the caravans. In an instant, she was a little girl again. She wasn’t the mistress of the Crown Prince, but a scared child.
He was dressed like a guard, but the uniform was ill-fitting. He must have bought or stolen it from somewhere. He removed his helmet and let out a low whistle as he looked around the lavish suites.
“You’ve done well for yourself since our father’s murder,” he said.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. Slowly, her senses were coming back to her and she realized he had no power over her. All she needed to do was to scream and the guards would come running. They would capture Tristan and toss him into the deepest dungeon and he would never bother her again.
“Now, now, don’t go doing anything as foolish as calling the guar
ds,” Tristan said. “Believe it or not, I’m here to help you, sister dear.”
“I don’t want your help,” Avery said. “I want you to leave or I’ll scream.”
“If you scream for the guards and you’ll be dead before morning, killed by the Vampire Princess herself. Trust me, Avery, you want to hear what I have to say.”
“How did you find me?” Avery asked, her voice a low whisper. Myrcel, of course it was Myrcel who was destroying her happiness. She thought of the tiny thing growing in her womb. Could she know already?
“A few of the women from the caravan turned up on the streets. They told me the Vampire Prince had taken a shine to you. I didn’t believe them, but I had to find out for myself. I play cards with some of the palace guards and one of them owed me quite a bit of money. I agreed to make it all go away if he would let me borrow his uniform. I promised not to steal or kill anyone while I was here. I had to see for myself if my idiot sister was the newest whore of the palace.”
She couldn’t stop her cheeks from flushing. A whore, is that all she was? It wasn’t right, he didn’t understand. Alistair loved her. She wasn’t some disposable thing to him. Or was she?
“Have you ever heard the prophecy of Celisa?” he continued. “She was a prophet who lived at the Temple of Four Boulders, five generations ago. She prophesied the break-up of the Varlyn and the creation of the Severed Lands. She knew everything that would happen. She knew about the betrayal by Thorne and the breaking away of the Fire Islands. No one believed her, but she was right.”
“What does this have to do with me?” Avery asked her brother. She should scream or make him leave, but his threat still hung in the air. Myrcel was the only thing that Avery feared. Avery meant nothing to her and Myrcel could kill the nomad and forget all about it by the next day.
“Celisa had another prophecy, one that you fit, dear sister.”
Avery’s heart stopped. A prophecy about her? It wasn’t possible.
“On the seventh full moon of a red year, the only daughter of a seventh son of the lands of Mygie will lie with a Vampire Prince,” he advanced on her as he quoted the prophecy. As she backed away from him, he continued. “Our father was the seventh son and you are his only daughter. Our family came from Mygie. In nine months’ time, she will bear him a son born on a moonless night. Half-human half-vampire, he will be beautiful and terrible to behold. He will conquer the world and reunite the Severed Kingdoms. He shall be the greatest King that Varlyn has ever seen. The world will shudder from his power.”
“That could be about anyone,” she said shaking her head.
“Yeah, that’s the whole point of prophecy, you idiot. Anyone can fit into it. But smart people know to take advantage of that.”
“How am I supposed to take advantage of that?”
“You don’t,” he said, leering at her. “I do.” He walked over to a golden chalice, a trophy Alastair had won. Tristan picked it up, running his hands over the embossed gold, as he held it up to the light to watch his reflection.
“I want money, gold, jewels, whatever you can get me. In return, I won’t tell the Vampire Princess that you are the only daughter the prophecy speaks of. Fortunately, not many have heard of Celise of Four Boulders. Outside of The Sands, the prophecy is not well known. But word could easily be spread. Can you imagine what would happen if people knew? You would be a walking target, little sister,” her brother continued.
“I’m not pregnant,” she said. But her voice wavered. Even she could hear the lie.
“Please, look at you,” he said, disgust dripping from his voice. “Vampires don’t know what to look for, but I do. I can see the curves on you, you’re practically glowing.”
She shook her head and backed away from him, cursing her upbringing. They had been taught at an early age how to read people. They understood signs better, which profited their survival and their thievery.
“I’ll be back in two days, returning at this time. Your vampire lover will not be here and you will have enough treasure to make me happy. Trust me when I tell you that if you try and trick me, or tell your lover about what I said—word will get out. Even if I am dead or in jail, word will get out. I know what I’m doing little sister. Do not, for even one moment, think you’re smarter than I.”
He turned and left. She couldn’t quite believe it. The words of the prophecy echoed in her ears. Was it possible, could it be right? She was the only daughter of a seventh son and while she didn’t remember lying with Alastair on the full moon of the seventh month, it was more than likely they had.
She pulled out his calendar of the cycles of the moon. Yes, the timing was right. It was now almost the end of the eight month and they had definitely lain together during the seventh. She was pregnant, but not too far along.
She pressed her hands to her stomach. She still couldn’t feel anything there. It was too soon. But was it possible? Did she carry the child who would reunite the lands?
Chapter Nine
Alastair sat across from his father. They were lunching on an ocean-front balcony outside of his father’s room. The sea spray tossed his hair about. They had both fed from two female servants, cute pliant little things, proud to be fed upon by the King and the Crown Prince.
They tasted sweet. Alastair knew that he needed to feed on humans other than Avery. He preferred her healthy and strong rather than pale and weak. He had restricted his feeding to their lovemaking, feeding off his servants the rest of the time. Avery had spoiled him. Even these sweet little servants weren’t enough for him anymore. He only wanted one thing.
“You leave for The Sands in a fortnight. How are the preparations going?” his father asked.
“Well,” Alastair said with a nod. “My men are eager to get back out into the field. They are still drunk on their success from the last battle at the borders. It made them all wealthy men, and now they are eager for more.”
“Good,” his father said as he watched the servants pull up their dresses and leave. Once they were alone, his manner changed. He relaxed back in his chair and gave his son a mischievous grin. “Will you bring your new favorite human with you?”
Alastair was shocked. He stared at his father wondering how the old man had heard. He had struggled so hard to keep Avery his secret. She was always in his rooms. Occasionally she would go stir crazy and beg to go out into the streets, so on those days he would dress her as a servant and Sir Reese would sneak her in and out of the palace.
“There are no secrets in the palace,” his father said with a chuckle. “Trying to keep one is a fool's errand. I’ll be honest, my boy. I was surprised to hear she was still here. Normally you grow bored after a few days.
“She’s different,” Alastair said. This was the last thing he wanted to discuss with his father, yet he could not deny the wisdom of the King. He was the only person who knew what Alastair was going through.
“Do you love her?” the King asked.
“I do,” Alastair said quietly. “She is the only thing that I want.”
His father nodded and reached down underneath his chair and pulled up an elaborately carved box. The box was made of deep dark wood with a delicate rose carved in the top. Alastair opened the box and saw a stunning piece of jewelry. It was a necklace, worn high up on the throat. There was a large red gemstone in the center, surrounded by diamonds on gold chains.
“The Flower of the Court,” his father said. “No has worn it since Alisia passed. Give it to your human.”
“I thought the flower was only for vampires,” Alastair said staring down at the expensive jewels beneath him. He ran his hands over the hard gemstone and imagined himself placing it upon Avery’s neck.
His father waved his hand away. “The Flower of the Court is given at the discretion of the King, or the Crown Prince. It is a marker that the woman who wears it is favored by royalty. No one will touch her. She may come and go as she pleases. That’s what this was made for. Human or vampire, she brings you joy. Ours is a difficult
role, you should enjoy the few pleasures given to you.”
“Myrcel will not be pleased. She is already unhappy about Avery,” Alastair continued. It felt strange to speak her name in front of his father. She had been his secret, but soon everyone would know her. She would have status and she could come to dinners and events. She would be protected.
“Myrcel is never pleased and she bares you no sons. A woman should not make her bed an icy chamber. It should be kept warm and sweet for her husband. But when your human wears this, she will be untouchable, even by the Princess,” the King shook his head and stared out over the sea. “You and Myrcel were a logical union. It does not surprise me that there is no love there. I was the one who yoked the two of you together. Now I give you this, that you may experience happiness and love. Make it known that she is yours. Claim her, love her.”
“Thank you, father,” Alastair said.
He carried the heavy box back to his chambers, tracing his hand over the rose carved into the lid. He remembered his father’s Flower of the Court, a stunning vampire named Alisia. She had been kind and sweet. In fact, his mother had been fond of Alisia, the courtesan took pressure off of the Queen.
There was no chance Myrcel would feel the same way. But a Flower was the King’s right and Myrcel would have no choice but to accept it.
Was it possible that Avery was growing more beautiful? She seemed even shapelier than she had before. Her breasts seemed bigger and there was a glow about her face that could not be denied. She sat up when he entered, her eyes wide.
“How is your father?” she asked.
“Well,” he answered. She was on the bed and he sat down next to her presenting the heavy box. “I have a gift for you.”
She looked down at the box and then up at him. Even after all of this time, she never asked for or expected extravagant gifts. He could not help but reach out and caress her cheek.
