Blood was also death.
I stabbed the sword into the table and finally broke my numb stare, pinning each overlord with a red glare that I wished could pierce their flesh.
I hissed, “It’s done.”
I marched out. I slammed the door.
I ran.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
~ GWYNNORE ~
“Gwynnore,” Nial stated, cool and unruffled.
I wasn’t answering. It wasn’t enough time.
It would never be enough time.
“Gwynnore.”
I needed time. So much more time to deal with what I had done because of the law. I knew Adelie would have approved, but I would never know for sure because I wasn’t even allowed to take her blood. All of her memories, all of her knowledge, flowed out of her, on to her clothes and dripped into pools on the floor.
I hoped each one of those assholes sat there and stared at her dead, headless body.
Hiding in my apartments, stealing through the halls, running through the mountains, hunting in the forest, none of it quelled the guilt that I bore. Adelie had been my best, and sometimes only, friend my whole life.
And I had chopped her head off.
Maybe in the afterlife, she understood what I had done, why I had done it.
The crown was my everything.
Had it been worth her life?
Had I passed their fucking trials?
“Gwynnore.”
I turned my head and found Nial standing with Cato and Lord Belshazzar behind him.
“Go away,” I growled.
Lord Belshazzar explained with cool calm, “The Monitor of Challenge is satisfied that the conditions of this Challenge were met above and beyond satisfaction.”
“Oh, fuck you!” The scream echoed through the rooms. “Screw you. Screw your Challenges. I’ve proven what I’ll do. Don’t come at me with your Monitor of Challenge shit.”
Couldn’t he be a little caring?
I didn’t understand the ancient lord at all.
“You’ve passed, Gwynnore,” Cato said. “You’ve won the crown.”
I swallowed all the words I wanted to hurl at him.
This was what I wanted.
This was what I had fought for my whole life, trained for, sacrificed everything for.
I won.
I was the queen.
I could almost hear my friend’s voice through the dead silence of the rock. We did it, Gwen. We did it. All that work, and it’s finally yours.
The thought of Adelie’s pride was what finally compelled me to smear the tears from my face. I’d had my four days of mourning, and part of me would always remember what it took to get the Black Heart on my hand. An almost ironic name that I fully believed everyone in this room really understood. Steeling myself, I pushed up off the chair I had been curled into, weeping and screaming for the past twenty-four hours.
I was the queen.
I straightened my spine and turned to the door where the three of them stood. And in the next second, they went to one knee, genuflecting to me.
To me.
I’d won.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
~KIMBER~
The emergency teams were rushing toward the temple’s campus as I ran away from it.
I realized I was wearing ordinary temple clothes and that was bad. I could be easily identified by whoever had blown up the building.
Once I was away from the parkland that was around the temple campus, I ducked into a small alley and paused to collect myself.
The building had come down around us.
I’d found Tymon and Dorian.
Elex was going to be fine.
I had to get back to the cave. Even though I still didn’t like Dorian, I trusted him. And I had to trust that he knew what he was talking about with my safety.
This was the second time he had put my life above his.
What was that all about?
Shaking my head, I cleared that thought out. I’d worry later. Right now, I had to lose the familiar temple clothes.
Taking a real assessment of where I was, I immediately had an idea. I was less than a mile from Jallina’s sister’s house. She had always been a steady rock for Jalli, and she had always liked me.
I had to take a chance.
I looked down, and my outfit screamed ‘acolyte,’ and I had to fix that for even this short walk.
I finished tearing off the sleeves. The building had started that for me. I dug my hand into one of the holes in the skirt and pulled down. It tore away, taking the bottom half of the overskirt, leaving me with the underskirt showing.
That would do.
I traveled the length of the small alleyway and out the opposite end where I had entered.
I caught a reflection of myself.
I’d be lucky to make it the mile without a peace officer stopping me for questioning with the amount of dust and disaster on me.
I stayed in the shadows of the afternoon sun, and using a touch of magic, cleaned off most of the dust.
I needed a comb. I looked ghastly.
Jennila’s house came into view, and I could see her on the lawn with her two little ones. She sensed me coming and searched the area to find me.
She waited at the gate for me and opened it.
“Kimber. Gods and stars, what happened to you? Are you coming from the temple?”
The simple gestured of her opening her arms to welcome me destroyed what control I had mustered up. I sank into her welcoming, sobbing.
“What’s wrong?” She held me tight.
“The temple residences were attacked. Master Dorian sent me away for my own safety.”
With a gasp, she called the little ones to her and led us all into the house. The children were unaware of anything bad that had gone on, and it was better that way. They ran off into the house.
Jennila rushed into action once they were away from us.
“You need clothes, and you must wash your hair.” Studying me, she shook her head. “No, we must cut your hair. You have distinct locks, and if you’re trying to get to safety that isn’t nearby, you’ll need to be less recognizable.”
I didn’t want to lose my long hair, but she was right. It was distinct. People knew what I looked like.
“I’ll wash it out, and you can cut it off.”
“Good. I’ll get a few of Jallina’s outfits out of her closet here, and you pick the one that’s most unlike you. I’ll pack something for you to eat so you’re not too hungry.”
Grabbing my arm, she pulled me deeper into the house and led me to the wonderful bathroom they had.
“Quickly. There’s a robe on the door when you’re done, and I’ll have clothes for you in the spare room.”
I wanted to enjoy the shower, but there was no time.
I was just grateful for the warmth and the soap.
Jennila was waiting in the spare room with three outfits and a pair of sheers.
I took the chair in front of her, and without fanfare, she trimmed off nearly a foot of my thick, sandy brown hair. It was a utilitarian cut by necessity, and I was sure that Elex would miss the tickling of my hair as I rode him in bed.
What a terrible moment to think about sex.
All I wanted to do was to find Elex and spend the day fucking each other’s brains out.
Damn it.
“Pick an outfit, Kimber. One that’s not you. After you are done here, don’t walk. Get a carriage or horse and have them take you close to where you’re going. Don’t walk. That’s what acolytes do.”
I studied the outfits.
One was very much me. A simple white shift skirt and blouse. I wanted the comfort of it, but I couldn’t.
I was running for my life.
I picked a bright green outfit with pants and a shirt that had a crazy green, yellow, and black pattern on it.
Not anything I would ever wear.
I held the shirt against myself and turned to the mirror.
“I don’t
think I can call myself an acolyte anymore.”
Jennila looked over my shoulder at the reflection and nodded her approval.
“Definitely not you. Good choice.”
I quickly doffed the robe and pulled on some undergarments and then the pants and shirt.
Studying me, Jennila nodded again. She hesitated on some words but finally got them out.
“What would you call yourself now, Lady Raven?”
With a glance at myself in the mirror, I let out a slow breath, taking in the wild-eyed, short-haired woman staring back at me.
It was time to admit my place in S’Kir.
“Breaker of the Spine.”
* * *
The horse was from a local livery, but I liked her.
Steady and strong, even some of the louder noises and utter insanity of the city didn’t faze her.
The news of the broken temple spread quickly. Almost on my heels.
So did the news that I was missing and Mistress Danai was dead.
I choked back the sorrow I felt.
She’d been the first of the temple masters to genuinely try to get to know me. She’d driven me hard with the etiquette and had worked to celebrate our world.
Now was not the time for mourning.
I’d have to do that later when Elex and I were once again together and safe.
I cantered the big bay mare into the Stadia district. There was no one around before supper, and probably wouldn’t have anyone around later, either.
The city would also mourn for Danai.
The mountains loomed above, cutting out half the sky above me. It was a threatening animal, looming above, poised to strike.
The Cave of the Breaking lay just ahead of me.
I dismounted, hoping to bring the horse into the cave with me. She’d be safer there, and I could have company while I waited for…
Well.
I didn’t know what I was waiting for.
Just like most of my life.
I stood in front of the mouth of the cave and looked up.
And up.
And up.
“I am here!” I yelled toward the massive mountain. “I am Lady Kimber Raven, the Breaker of the Spine! What do you need of me?”
The mountain shook.
It was not a meager tremble or a warning.
The ground rolled beneath me, and the rocks screamed above me.
I stood my ground at the mouth of the cave, waiting for the mountain’s tantrum to pass.
A single rock tore loose and hurtled through the air at me. My hand stretched out to catch it.
Lined with the crystals from the cave, the rock lit from within, pulsing in time with my heartbeat. Dozens of colors danced there, and I could hear the cacophony of sound again in my mind.
It was trying to speak to me.
I didn’t understand it yet.
My magic wasn’t ready.
Twisting back, looking at S’Kir laid out before me, I realized terrible truths.
Dorian was right.
“I have no idea what’s coming for us all.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
~ GWYNNORE ~
The ceremonial chamber was huge and filled with thousands of people.
My people.
I hadn’t realized that there were enough vampires in the stronghold to fill it.
After I asked, Lord Pippin told me there actually weren’t.
Half had come from other enclaves around the world to be there to see this.
“You are already a legend.” Lord Pippin lifted an eyebrow at me.
“Not exactly.”
He put a hand on my shoulder. “You are. The daughter of a former king has fought her way to the throne. It is the stuff of legends.”
Wonderful.
I flexed the hand that had wielded the sword to secure my crown. The wrist was still sore from the tattoo I had insisted on—the royal seal, reminding me always what I had done. My chuckle was bitter. “I never wanted my name associated with his. Even if he did love my mother.”
“So you do believe he loved her.”
“He must have at some point.”
He grinned. “You will be a queen to be reckoned with.”
He strolled away, heading for the rest of the overlords seated on the dais in the center. They formed a pentacle around the center throne, where the silver crown sat waiting. Lord Belshazzar was at the topmost point, and that’s where I would face when I took the—my—throne.
Their red and gold capes were trimmed with black-dyed ermine, but each was unique, reflecting the era each had become an overlord. Lord Pippin’s was the newest, appearing like something out of the painting “The Coronation of Napoleon,” and when I told him that, he winked and said he was there in the painting. I merely rolled my eyes. Lord Belshazzar’s looked like something out of a bad movie about troglodytes, and I told him that, too. He didn’t appreciate my cracks about his age—too bad, he should start to get used to it.
My own cloak was made of deep red velvet and gold embroidery, with the smallest edge of ermine I could get away with. I hated fur. I didn’t look good in it, and as a queen, I wanted to look really damn good.
I had to for Adelie.
I wanted to for the vampires I was about to rule.
Two days after they pulled me out of my mourning, they had me at the foot of the throne, ready to take my crown. I glanced at the tattoo and balled my fist again. Everything we’d fought for, right here, right now.
Lord Belshazzar stood and motioned me forward from where I was standing. There was very little pomp and circumstance in this ceremony because it was so ancient and so rare. I walked forward, cloak flowing behind, the black dress I’d chosen rustling quietly through the hushed audience. I never wore dresses, but I felt it was necessary this time.
Plus, I was strapped underneath.
A gun on my thigh, a gun at my knee, a garter of ammo, and a short sword strapped to my other leg. Let anyone try anything with me. I didn’t care who I killed at this point.
At the bottom of the stairs, Nial stood, and I couldn’t read him. I didn’t know if he was happy, pissed off, shocked, or exhausted. Maybe all four. On the other side were Felicia and Melchior. The stairs to the dais guarded by those who had witnessed my last trial.
I had been shocked to find out that no one had leaked the last trial, but then Lord Pippin had explained they had taken advantage of Niallan’s druid heritage and had him bind everyone to silence. No one in that room would, or even could, speak of what they had seen, not even to one another if there was a remote chance that anyone could hear them. Their tongues would not work.
They had also carefully crafted a story about Adelie’s unfortunate car accident that cleaved her head from her shoulders. It was easily done, and the pictures were suitably horrific in the local papers the next day.
The assholes had used my Lamborghini.
My beautiful, black estrogen mobile.
I was pissed. They owed me a new one.
I’d had a meeting with Felicia and Melchior when I came out of mourning. I found them to be marvelous allies. Maybe I couldn’t figure out which of the overlords would be a good liaison, but I knew those two were loyal.
Both Felicia and Niallan halted me with crossed swords.
They studied me.
Niallan eventually spoke. “I am the Monitor of the fourth Challenge. It shall be known to the people of the Black Heart crown that Gwynnore of Luxor, taking her grandfather’s name, has satisfied all conditions of the Challenge, as they were presented to her, by my eyes. This is sworn to by my blood.”
Felicia flipped the sword over and sliced down on Nial’s palm, scoring the skin and drawing blood.
“I am a Witness of Final Challenge,” Felicia called out to the massive audience. “It shall be known to the people of the Black Heart crown that Gwynnore of Luxor, taking her grandfather’s name, has satisfied all conditions of the Challenge as they were presented to her, by my eyes. This is
sworn to by my blood.”
This time, Nial scored her skin and drew blood.
They held the swords aloft and allowed me to pass, touching the bloodied tips to the edge of the golden embroidered swords designed into the cloak I wore. As good a blessing as any vampire got.
As they mounted the stairs carefully and steadily, the five overlords stood, until one foot in front of the other placed me in front of the throne.
With a rustle, the cloak was arranged, but I didn’t sit.
Lord Belshazzar commanded the audience’s attention with his authoritative voice. “Gwynnore of Luxor, the Council of Overlords, has called you and seen that you have passed all five Challenges, along with the approval of the Monitor of Challenge and Witness of the Final Challenge. Upon this moment, you are hereby the Queen of Vampires, the Queen of Gods. We welcome you to the throne with your crown.”
Lord Pippin ambled up from behind me and held the crown out for me to take.
I grinned. I was sure that everyone watching was thinking I was smiling because I had won this crown and finally had it in my hands. It wasn’t though. It was my personal victory that no one crowned me. Only I was suited to put the crown on my own head as the queen.
I held it aloft and lowered it down until it felt just right on my head.
In fact, it felt more than just right.
It was as if it were settling in and had finally found its proper home.
Which it had. This was who I was meant to be.
Lord Belshazzar spoke again, “Gwynnore of Luxor, as the Queen of Vampires, the Queen of Gods, you are hereby granted the Black Heart Star, the very heart of your subjects. It must always be worn and guarded. Without it, you are diminished, your crown tarnished. So it has been since the beginning of time, and so it shall continue.”
This time, Cato held out a small, exquisite pillow with the ring placed on it. The crown was beautiful but impractical. This ring, with its dark black star sapphire shining from the setting, was the real sign of power, the signet that identified the queen at all times.
Some sick bastard dared to have my father offer this ring and pass the legacy to me, a legacy he had abandoned me for.
I lifted the Black Heart and slipped it on my finger on my right hand.
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