Before Midnight (Book 1) (Blood Prince Series)

by Blackstream, Jennifer

  Irina pressed her lips into a thin line and straightened her spine. She held her head high and tried to set her stepmother on fire with just her glare.

  It might work someday.

  Serafina lowered her gaze to the vial Irina still held in her hand. “Tsk, tsk, little one. You’ve gone and spilled your lovely blood.” She sighed. “I’m afraid you’ll have to refill it now.”

  Before Irina could move, her stepmother appeared at her side, Irina’s hand held in an agonizing grip. Irina hissed as a sharp black claw erupted from one of her stepmother’s fingers and pierced her thumb. Her blood trickled in a thick wave into the vial, filling it up in the blink of an eye, as if the glass itself was drinking from her. A shiver ran up Irina’s spine.

  Serafina thrust Irina to the side and corked the vial. “You know, Irina, if you continue to make a nuisance of yourself, we’re going to have to go back to locking you in the coffin.”

  Irina’s blood ran cold. Without her permission, her gaze dragged itself to the corner of the study to the spot where she knew the glass coffin rested just under a secret trapdoor. Memories of nights spent locked in the confines of the enchanted glass deathtrap rose like screeching banshees in her mind and she swallowed a scream. She held her breath until she was sure she could breathe without shuddering.

  “Oh, but then where would you sleep, Stepmother?” she asked, forcing a sickly sweet tone into her voice despite the terror trying to crawl out of her throat. “I would hate for you to sleep in a plain old bed without the magic of your lovely coffin.” She let her contempt fill her eyes as she forced herself to meet her stepmother’s amused gaze. “After all, it just wouldn’t do for you to wake up looking like the nasty old hag you are.”

  In a flash, the smile fell from Serafina’s face. Her black eyes burned with a fearsome dance of flame, her entire body trembling with an unholy rage. For a split second, Irina thought she’d finally gone too far. She braced herself, wanting to die on her feet without giving the sorceress the satisfaction of showing how frightened she really was.

  A second later, the fury was gone. Her stepmother tilted her head, no trace of fire left in her eyes, and the smile back on her lips. “Oh, Irina. Someday I will kill you.” She sauntered across the room and began gathering papers from the floor and shuffling them into piles. “Now, I have work to do. Be a darling and go to your room before I ask the domovoi to drag you there.”

  Irina steeled her nerves, refusing to look around to see if the domovoi had appeared at the sound of his name. The house demon generally didn’t do more than clean, but Irina had seen her stepmother twist males of every species to do her bidding and she didn’t want to test the domovoi’s loyalty to his mistress.

  Sweeping out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster, Irina fought the urge to stomp all the way to her room. Her hatred for the sorceress the Fates had deemed fit to be her stepmother filled her chest with fire until it burned to breathe. One of these days she would find the key to bring about Serafina’s death. One day.

  The door to her room hit the wall with enough force to rattle the thick wood. Just for good measure, Irina slammed it closed too. She hoped it gave Serafina a splitting headache. Like it had done to her.

  Irina cursed and rubbed her temples. She dragged herself over to the window and thrust the pane of glass out as far as she could, sucking in a deep breath of the winter air. The cold raised goose bumps all over her skin, even under the thick long sleeves of her winter dress. The deep blue velvet couldn’t keep out the icy wind that she so casually invited into her room with the open window. Raising her eyes to the pale early morning skies, Irina opened her mouth and began to sing.

  The notes were so rich, so powerful, that Irina imagined she could see them in the air, mixing with the wind and dancing in the light. She sang until the winds grew gentler and the tension eased from her muscles. Every note brought her a little more peace and sent a pleasant warmth over her skin. In the protective cocoon of her song, Irina could relax.

  When the last note faded in the air, Irina closed her eyes, relishing her newfound peace.

  “That was beautiful, Irina. What a gift you have.”

  Irina opened her eyes and turned to smile at the vila hovering in the air beside her window. The ghostly woman smiled back as her long white cloak floated around her. The winds that were hers to summon slid through her long hair, twirling the white locks in the gentle breeze.

  “Thank you for the lovely compliment,” Irina acknowledged.

  The vila’s smile widened. “Thank you for the cakes you left for me and my sisters. Even our most devoted people rarely leave such a bounty.”

  Irina waved off the thanks. “I love to cook and I’ll be damned if I’m going to feed the sorceress. I’m only too happy to pass the food on to those who appreciate it.”

  A frown marred the vila’s beautiful face. “Irina, I have to warn you. Your stepmother plans your death.”

  “I’m aware of that. I have been since she killed my father.”

  A lump rose in Irina’s throat and she turned away from the vila, struggling to regain her composure. Serafina had killed her father years ago, when Irina had been just a child. Still, the pain was as fresh today as it had been then. Perhaps more so with the weight of all her failed revenge attempts.

  The vila kindly gave her time to collect herself, waiting until Irina turned back to her to begin speaking again.

  “Irina—”

  “Irina.”

  The male voice drew Irina’s attention even as the vila flew away. She smiled when she saw the huntsman standing in her doorway. The older man towered like a giant pine tree, his wild brown hair only just starting to grey at the temples. The green tunic and plain brown pants he wore only added to the tree imagery. His weathered face, usually creased in a smile, was fraught with tension. Irina frowned.

  “Viktor, what’s wrong? You seem sad.”

  Irina stepped forward, wanting to offer some sort of comfort. Viktor was the one aspect of this palace that made her life bearable. Despite her initial distrust of him, based solely on the fact that he was her stepmother’s huntsman, the man had quickly earned her respect. Every day he came to take her on a walk and as they ventured through the woods and over the land, he told her about the different people and creatures that lived there. He spoke of each one with a deep reverence. It reminded her so much of her father, and Irina knew that it was largely due to the two men’s influence that she had so much respect for every culture, and why she could go anywhere and find a friend.

  Viktor offered her a weak smile. “I am fine, rybka, truly. Are you ready for our walk?”

  Irina frowned, still concerned over the huntsman’s strange demeanor. He was fidgeting, his hand dancing at his side in a restless movement that was not at all like him. Unease slithered down Irina’s spine.

  “I am ready,” she said slowly. “Just let me grab my cloak.”

  She walked to her closet and removed the heavy fur-lined wool cloak. After fastening it securely around her shoulders and sliding her arms through the long, wide sleeves, she offered Viktor a tentative smile. He nodded and she followed him out of the castle.

  The drawbridge lowered without a sound, kept forever well-oiled by the domovoi. Irina held onto the huntsman’s arm as they crossed, unable to keep from looking into the water that surrounded her stepmother’s home. Underneath the water, a slide of silvery scales sent ripples over the water.

  The huntsman raised a hand and unsheathed his knife. Before he could make a cut on his finger, Irina grasped his arm.

  “Please, let me.”

  Viktor furrowed his eyebrows as she raised a hand and let the sleeve of her cloak fall down. The wound on her thumb, courtesy of Serafina, stood out like a tiny red mouth. She pinched the tip and blood welled up. Irina held her hand over the water and let a drop of blood fall into the lake.

  A shiver rumbled under the surface, frothing the water where her blood had dripped into the moat. The
silvery shape moved away from them, vanishing back into the dark depths.

  “You cut yourself?”

  Irina sucked on the wound before letting the cool air soothe it. “Serafina wanted my blood for her collection. There was no sense in you offering the monster your blood when my injury was already fresh.”

  She couldn’t help glancing at the water when she said that. The monster was a creation of her stepmother’s. It demanded a small offering of blood for anyone to cross the bridge. A brilliant guardian, since anyone who caught a glimpse of the creature would do everything in his power to avoid spilling blood into the water. Only those who didn’t know the rule for entry would be eaten.

  Viktor glanced behind them. Irina kept walking, frowning at her injury until the blood stopped trickling out and she could tuck it back into her sleeve without smearing it on her cloak. She turned to say something to Viktor only to realize he wasn’t walking with her.

  “Viktor?” she asked, looking over her shoulder. Her eyebrows furrowed when she saw the huntsman standing still in the snow, staring back at the lake. She retraced her steps to stand beside him, following his stare.

  Thanks to the thick spell Serafina had woven over the castle, all that met her eyes was a lake. The dark grey water was unmarred by a bridge or a castle, a powerful hesitation spell that Serafina used to keep anyone from stumbling upon her home. To get in, you had to know it was there to begin with. One misstep and you’d end up in the brackish water, a screaming feast for the monster swimming in the dark depths.

  “Viktor,” she repeated, her voice softer this time. “What is wrong?”

  The huntsman swallowed hard, but didn’t answer her. Instead, he turned and offered a weak smile before proceeding along their usual route.

  “I spoke to a leshii the other day,” he spoke up finally. “It seems you’ve won over several of their people.” He fiddled with the leather bag by his side. “They are talking of breaking their treaty with Serafina.”

  Irina perked up. “Really? That’s wonderful.” She stared ahead, the wheels spinning in her mind. “If the leshii break their treaty, others will follow. Serafina’s hold over the territory will be weakened.”

  “She has the right to rule this territory, a right granted by the royal family themselves.”

  “No one has the right to rule,” Irina insisted, scorn giving her voice a harsh edge. “Not over every person and every creature. Ruler is just another word for tyrant, and Dacia doesn’t need any more of those.” She narrowed her eyes, thinking of Serafina’s smug face. “It has plenty already.”

  “Irina, you are playing with fire. Serafina has overlooked your treasonous behavior so far, but if she believes you are truly a threat to her power, she will kill you.”

  His voice broke on the last word and Irina stopped and put a hand on his arm. She tilted her head to look into his eyes. “Viktor, are you afraid for me?” she asked gently. “I’ve made no secret of the fact that I don’t believe any one person should rule the fate of an entire kingdom. It isn’t just Serafina’s grip on this area that I want to break. Eventually, I want the entire kingdom to be free.”

  The blood drained from Viktor’s face. “You speak of unseating the royal family.”

  Irina nodded slowly, not wanting to upset her friend further, but unwilling to lie. “It isn’t right for one person to rule the lives of an entire people,” she said firmly. “Even the high king himself shouldn’t have that right.”

  Viktor collapsed to his knees then fell forward onto all fours. The bag at his side hit his leg and spilled its contents into the snow.

  “Viktor!” Irina dropped to her knees beside him and put her arms around his shoulders, covering him partially with her cloak. “My friend, do not worry so. Serafina hasn’t killed me yet, and she’s had plenty of opportunities.” Irina bit her lip, silently debating with herself over how much to reveal to Viktor. Despite their years of friendship, he was still Serafina’s servant. She had no idea how much control, magical or emotional, the sorceress had over him. Finally, she made her decision.

  “Serafina consulted her magic mirror about me,” she confessed, her voice low despite their distance from the castle. “I overheard part of it. The mirror told her that I’m the key to a new kingdom. It said—”

  “It said your heart was the key to a new kingdom,” Viktor whispered.

  A frown pulled down the corners of Irina’s mouth. “I think those were the words. But how did you…?”

  The huntsman let his head fall as if he could no longer hold it up. He groped beside him and Irina finally turned her attention to the objects that had fallen from his bag. The first was a chest of some sort, ornately decorated with gold and gems. The other was a large hunting knife. Unlike Viktor’s other knives, which Irina had seen on numerous occasions, this one was intricate and as bejeweled as the chest. It had an almost ceremonial look to it. Viktor held the chest up and Irina noticed the engraving of a heart with a knife through it.

  “I don’t understand. What are those for?”

  The objects fell from his hands and cold fear doused Irina as Viktor began to sob. His shoulders trembled with the force of his despair and Irina couldn’t help but pull away, suddenly needing to put some distance between herself and the blade.

  “Viktor, you are scaring me.” Her voice came out hoarse, almost lost to a sudden gust of icy wind.

  “Irina, I can’t do it. You have been like my own daughter these past twelve years, I cannot do what my queen has commanded of me.”

  The misery was so thick in his voice that Irina hardly recognized it. She took another step back. She didn’t want to ask her next question, didn’t want to know the answer. Still the words flowed from her lips in a breathless whisper. “What did she command you to do?”

  “I was to bring back your heart in this box.”

  Irina pressed her lips together, smothering the cry of dismay that tried to escape. She stared at her friend, all the while backing away. “Viktor,” she choked.

  The huntsman raised his head, torment pulling the lines in his face into ever deepening creases and his eyes shining with his pain. “Irina, you must run. Run far from here, far from Serafina’s reach.”

  “There is nowhere I can run,” Irina protested, her chest growing tighter with every word. “She can find me anywhere. Her mirror…”

  “Irina, you are loved by so many creatures, so many smaller factions within this territory. Any one of them would take you in, the fey, the leshii, the vila, even the rusalki would likely welcome you. Surely one of them could give you sanctuary?”

  Irina shook her head, her entire body trembling as the full weight of the huntsman’s words fell on her. “Viktor, I could not ask that of any of them. To stand up to Serafina politically is one thing. But if she wants my…” she swallowed hard, “my heart, then she will kill if necessary to get it. How could I ask that of my friends?”

  “She would not go against the high king,” Viktor whispered.

  The sheer ridiculousness of the suggestion would have made Irina laugh if she wasn’t so terrified. “The high king would be even more likely to kill me than Serafina if news of my…political views have reached as far as you say.” She closed her eyes, fighting not to sway on her feet. “There is nowhere for me to run.”

  Viktor’s hands closed like twin vices on her arms and Irina screamed as she opened her eyes. The huntsman’s green eyes bored into hers, fierce determination written across his face. “You will run and you will hide,” he ground out, emotion taking some of the edge off his voice. “I will not see you dead, Irina.” He pushed her away and stooped to pick up the box and blade. “I will slaughter a pig and offer its heart in your place.” He grabbed her hand and Irina whimpered as he squeezed her thumb, forcing the wound to reopen again. Her blood trickled into the box he held open underneath it. “This will not fool Serafina for long. You must go now!”

  A sob broke from Irina as she stumbled back and fell into the snow. Viktor gave her on
e last look before plunging into the forest, searching for the pig that would buy her precious little time. Irina stared back into the distance at where she knew the castle sat, and within, Serafina in her glass coffin.

  “I will return one day, Serafina,” she whispered, not even caring when fear made her voice waver. “You will pay for all you’ve taken from me.”

  Without another look, she turned and darted into the forest, praying that she would find safety…somewhere.

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  Preview of UNDER HIS SKIN, a paranormal romance

  Chapter 1

  “Ack, no! Don’t pick that one.”

  Ana paused with her hand over a strip of honeysuckle. Darting her gaze around the herbalist’s small shop, she searched for the source of the unholy screeching that made the nerves in her arms shrivel in agony. Rows of drying herbs hung from a square patch of ceiling on her right, lavender, mistletoe, and slippery elm filling the air with their soft fragrances. Rows and rows of oils and candles lined the left wall, their simple glass jars and neatly labeled black lids the epitome of order.