The Emerald Lily

by Juliette Cross

  Black magic.

  He snapped his head in the direction of Mina’s tent. “No.”

  Without a word, he left them, flashing through the encampment lightning-fast. The two guards at the door were crumpled on the ground, legs contorted unnaturally. Sweeping past, knowing what he’d find, he sped into the tent, finding exactly what he’d feared he would. Nothing. No one.

  Combing his fingers against his scalp, he circled the room like a caged beast, looking for something. There on the rough-shod rug covering the ground, a single spot of crimson. Kneeling, he dabbed his finger to it and sniffed deep.

  It was Gavril. He’d shed enough blood with the man over the years to know his scent. So he hadn’t been killed on watch, then dragged off and shoved in a ravine so that the king’s men could bypass him into camp. Of course not. The king.

  “Fucking hell!” he roared.

  He spun back outside and crossed paths with Sienna and her party with Katya. He didn’t stop when Katya called out, flashing back to his tent. By the time he’d tossed off his cloak and thrown open the chest of weapons, arming himself with razor-sharp, double-edged blades in every sheath and scabbard he could carry, filling the dozens of slits along his crisscrossing harness with finger blades, Dmitri was at his side in a rush of violent wind.

  “How did it happen?”

  Shouts echoed across the encampment as word spread.

  He didn’t recognize his own voice, the malevolent timbre growling out of his throat like a cornered animal. “Dominik, the fucking butcher king, bit Gavril and injected his elixir into his body, then commanded he abduct Mina.”

  It was the perfect plan. They’d scent a stranger among the encampment, but no one would stop Gavril, one of his Elite, from going into the queen’s tent.

  He’d seen what the king’s power of persuasion could do even after the elixir had worn off. He and Friedrich had interrogated one of his bitten minions back at Winter Hill. The rogue vampire fell unconscious and died after disobeying a command of the king’s by giving them information. Gavril had been freshly bitten. He hadn’t stood a chance.

  “What are you going to do?”

  Mikhail cut a glare at him. “What do you think I’m going to fucking do? Get her back.”

  He unbuckled his belt and slipped on two more scabbards in addition to the one already there. He’d have serrated daggers to rip sinew and bone on both hips and one at his back.

  “You’re not going alone.” Dmitri stood in his path before he could make it back to the weapons chest. “You’ll be killed.”

  Nikolai entered with Sienna, Dane, and Riker behind. Then Katya.

  “Do you think my life matters more than hers, Brother?”

  Ice poured from every word. He’d lost his ability to reason like the captain he was. Only one driving force moved his feet and pumped blood to his heart at this moment. Mina.

  “I’m just saying we need a plan. If you’d stop long enough to think, we could form one.”

  “We’re going with you,” said Nikolai.

  Friedrich entered with Grant.

  “Is it true?” asked Friedrich.

  Seeing Friedrich was the only thing that made him pause. His wife had been under the power of that cruel bastard. Brenna had felt the cold icy fingers of his dominance in her veins, pulling her strings like a puppet. She’d felt his violent will when he slit her throat with his own claw right before Friedrich’s eyes, powerless to stop him.

  “Yes.” He glanced away, unable to see the horror in his eyes any longer. What Brenna had experienced might very well be Mina’s fate, under the thrall of that evil bastard.

  A gaping hole opened up inside of him. A chasm filling with the darkest kind of dread. The king wouldn’t kill her. He knew that. They needed her alive to fulfill Queen Morgrid’s plan to perform the black magic rite to blight the world in darkness. However, fulfilling that plan would also require the king to impregnate Mina so Morgrid could sacrifice the newborn pure-blood Varis at the hour of its birth. The thought made his vision blur, spots in his peripheral vision.

  King Dominik may not kill her, but he was the one man in this world who could do so much worse. Mikhail had heard the horrors of his brutality.

  Black thoughts flooded his frame, thinking of Mina in the control of such a monster. He shook it off, unwilling to allow his mind to spin out of control. Guilt of his own negligence threatened to make him insane. While he should’ve sensed that this storm was wrong in a supernatural way, he’d been too distracted by his emotions and need for Mina. The very reason he’d called for the Bloodguard vow to forsake love or marriage had been why he’d failed her. Why she was now in the ruthless hands of the butcher king.

  Focus. Stay sharp. Cool thoughts. Deft hands.

  He lifted the double-bladed sword, custom-crafted and forged by a friend in Korinth. The hilt at the center, made of black oak from Silvane Forest, was smoothed and honed to perfectly fit his fist. The black-iron blades—razor-sharp on one side, serrated on the other, curving in opposite directions—extended three feet from point to point. The edges of both blades sparkled with gold. Gripping hard, he bent his wrist, cutting the wind on one side then the other. Perfectly balanced. The supreme weapon for decapitating one’s victims. And he had only one victim in mind at the moment.

  “Mikhail!”

  His eyes snapped up, everyone staring at him. He’d been in his own trance.

  “Did you hear me?” Dmitri stood close, fear and frustration on his face.

  “Aye, Dmitri.” Though he hadn’t heard a word. “Fetch Gregoravich quickly. And alert my Elite.”

  Dmitri disappeared out the tent flap, a gust of glacial wind blowing in. Mikhail’s Elite were his most highly skilled assassins. He slid a sheath onto one blade of the sword and a second on the other blade, then buckled it to the harness crossing his chest. Lifting his cloak, he hooked it at the neck and swept the room with an assessing gaze.

  “Nikolai, your party is welcome to follow, but I’m not slowing down for anything.” He glanced at Sienna. “Or anyone.”

  Nikolai nodded. “We’ll keep up.”

  Dane stepped forward, the mountainous hart wolf in human form sparking the dimly lit tent with his amber-gold eyes. “I’ll carry Sienna.” He shivered as if the need to shift was on him now. “We’ll be close behind.”

  Nikolai nodded agreement. Mikhail had heard Sienna complain often enough of the nausea she experienced traveling at vampire speed in Nikolai’s arms. Riding on Dane’s back while he’s a hart wolf would be infinitely faster than on horseback, but not at the dizzying pace of vampire speed.

  Dmitri reentered with Gregoravich behind him, standing next to Dane, almost as tall with the same beefy build.

  “Gregory, I’ll need you in lead for tracking.”

  He was a memory reader, born with the vampire gift where he could recapture memories of people by touching places they’d been.

  “Yes, Captain,” answered Gregory, scowling.

  There was no time to discuss Gavril and his forced betrayal or where he was now, but the tension rolling off Gregoravich, who was a close friend, told him enough. The man wanted answers as much as he did.

  “Dmitri, I need you to report to Prince Marius and Arabelle what has happened. Assemble the army and get them moving toward Izeling. You’re the fastest, so don’t argue with me.”

  Dmitri closed his mouth, since he apparently was about to do just that.

  “Are you sure that’s where he’ll have taken her?” asked Nikolai. “The Glass Tower is not far. He may have gone there.”

  “Doubtful,” interjected Friedrich. “They’ve been amassing their army at his Dragon’s Eye. He’ll have returned to Izeling, where his forces are largest. My uncle is arrogant, but he’s also smart enough to know that the army set up in Silvane Forest could overrun the forces at the Glass Tower, even at our diminished state.”

  “Katya, you’ll follow us with the Bloodguard. Send word to Lord Rathbone.”

&nbs
p; “Yes, Captain.” She spoke like the perfect soldier, but her eyes shone with distress.

  Anxiety riding him, Mikhail swept toward the door, stopping in front of Friedrich. “Your Grace, I’ll be parting ways with you here.”

  Mikhail had worked as the duke’s personal bodyguard for months since Friedrich had released his Legionnaires of their duties, knowing there were spies for King Dominik within their ranks. Mikhail had continued to serve when they left Winter Hill, escorting and protecting Friedrich, Brennalyn, and their children in Silvane Forest. Now was the time he needed to sever that formal arrangement. He was moving of his own accord from here on out with one and only one objective.

  Save Mina.

  “Of course, Captain. We’ll follow Dmitri to Silvane Forest.” He clapped a hand to Mikhail’s upper arm in farewell, a look of fierce determination written in the duke’s eyes. “I’ll see you in Izeling.”

  He swept from the tent out into the cold, where the winds had died away, a shimmer of moonlight peeking from behind wisps of cloud. His Elite stood in a single, silent line outside the tent, armed and ready, black hoods up shadowing their eyes, though he felt their keen watchfulness. Their sharp alertness. No movement but their cloaks billowing around their legs. All of these men were at the blood rite ceremony in Silvane where they dedicated their allegiance to Mina. Electric energy sizzled in the air, rippling between them. A vibration only an otherworld creature could feel, beckoning like a call from the hartstone herself. Or from hell.

  A growl rumbled from the depths of his gut, the need for blood and crushing bones singing through his limbs, the beast within yearning for wrath and death.

  “The butcher king used our guardsman, our blood brother Gavril, to betray us.” The timbre rumbled more growl than words. “And he took…our queen.” The eyes of his Elite glowed with blue fire and fury beneath their hoods. “Now let’s go fucking kill him and bring her back.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Dominik slung Mina on the bed, his bed, a behemoth piece of furniture with tree-trunk-thick posts and laden with red silk curtains. His bedchamber was dark and opulent, dripping with black satin, red brocade, and crystal chandeliers. Even so, gray morning light peeked through the heavy folds of draperies. They’d traveled at vampire speed without resting at all. The trip to Izeling Tower should’ve taken longer, but Dominik was far stronger and faster than she’d realized.

  He towered above her, hands on both hips, the firelight casting his silhouette in shadow. She could see nothing but his flaring eyes and gleaming smile, canines still sharp. She shivered. They’d hurt puncturing into her neck. Not like Mikhail, who eased into her slowly. Dominik bit with brutal force, seeming to enjoy her pain.

  “Where’s the little girl, Izzy, you kidnapped?”

  “Get cleaned up, little dove. Mother requests your presence.”

  “Tell me what you’ve done with her.”

  “Get cleaned up, and I’ll show you,” he said with a grin, watching and waiting.

  Three maids hurried into the room, carrying buckets of steaming water into the connecting chamber, keeping their heads bowed. She heard the rush of water as it poured into the tub.

  Her eyes darted back to him. She lifted her chin. “I’m not bathing in front of you.”

  He laughed, the hard sound twisting her insides into a nest of snakes. “No?” He bent over, bracketing his hands on either side of her hips, his massive frame threatening. “You’ll do whatever I want you to do.”

  Her breathing accelerated, fearing whatever command he was about to give her. Because she knew she would obey, even as she screamed on the inside. She’d heard of people dying from defying Dominik’s commands while under the thrall of his elixir. She had to survive.

  His gaze roamed down her neck to her heaving chest then back up, locking his malevolent eyes to hers. “If I tell you to lean back and spread your legs, you’ll do it.”

  She shook her head, tears pricking.

  He only smiled wider. “If I tell you to get on your knees and suck my cock, you’ll do that, too.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to even out her breathing, trying to keep the welling panic at bay.

  “Open your eyes, little dove.”

  They popped open without her even thinking it, her body already obeying his will.

  “No, Your Majesty,” she said with a plea in her eyes, using his title as some way to appeal to his ego. “I am the Queen of Arkadia. You can’t—”

  His hand clamped under her jaw, arresting her speech.

  “Yes. I heard about your ascension to the throne. Did you think it would help you and your traitorous friends who are allied to the Black Lily?”

  She could say nothing with his giant paw holding her jaw in place. His fingers loosened, and he slid his hand down her throat, his fingers nearly encapsulating it.

  “Who did you spread your legs for, Vilhelmina?” Malice laced his voice now, sending a tremble of dread through her frame.

  “Mikhail Romanov, Captain of the Bloodguard.”

  His countenance darkened to a murderous glare. “The one who took you from Briar Rose?”

  “Yes.”

  “And killed my fucking men,” he growled, fingers tightening.

  “Yes,” she rasped, feeling some kind of triumph in telling him who he was and what he’d done.

  “You’d best forget him. You’ll be my queen soon enough.” He grinned, voice dropping even deeper. “You’ll be my woman after tonight.” He roughly let her go and stood, bellowing to the three maids standing at the entrance. “Scrub her good.” He started for the door, boots clomping on the slate floor. “And get the stink of that bloody vampire off her.”

  …

  Though the snowstorm had cleared, it had muddled the trail. Mikhail paused as the craggy silhouette of the Novak foothills rose up in the night. He halted their party with a hand in the air, having caught a whiff on the wind. Not of Mina, but of another familiar scent.

  “Captain!” yelled Yuri, off to the right, kneeling in the shadow of a cliff face.

  Speeding to his side, his gut clenched at the sight. Gavril on his back, one leg folded backward, a pool of blood seeped into the snow beneath his head. The near-full moon shining through vaporous clouds illuminated his deathly pallor. Yuri had a finger to his pulse, listening.

  “It’s faint, Captain. But he’s alive.” Desperation rang in his voice, for he and Gavril had also been close friends. “Gavril, can you hear me?”

  Mikhail reined in the thoughts of Gavril stealing Mina away from him and handing her over to Dominik. Not to mention wounding his blood brothers. Dmitri had assured him none of the guardsmen at her tent were killed. Their necks and legs had been broken so that they couldn’t heal quickly enough to set off a warning in the camp.

  Gavril’s eyes opened to narrow slits, pain etched in his brow when he looked beyond Yuri to Mikhail standing at his side. “God, no.” His voice was little more than a weak rasp. He closed his eyes. “Leave me.”

  Mikhail knelt and gripped his shoulder. “Listen to me, Gavril. You did not betray your brothers. Or the queen.” He squeezed his shoulder harder. Gavril opened his eyes, despair swimming there. “Or me, my brother. You had no choice. You could’ve killed your blood brothers, for I imagine Dominik ordered you to silence anyone in the way. Correct?”

  Gavril didn’t move or speak, his hopeless gaze unmoving from Mikhail.

  “You’re going to survive. Then make amends and fight alongside your brothers again.”

  A faint nod, then he pointed up. “Bring Gregory…up there.” His voice cracked, barely a whisper.

  Mikhail glanced over his shoulder. “Soren!”

  The broad-shouldered vampire snapped to his side. “Yes, Captain.”

  “I need you to carry Gavril back to Katya. She’ll be sure he’s tended to.”

  “Yes, Captain.”

  He helped Yuri gingerly lift the battered man to Soren’s shoulder, then they flashed away.
<
br />   “Gregory!”

  “Over here,” he bellowed from off to the left.

  Mikhail and Yuri joined him where he was already climbing, having found a particularly jagged facing.

  Gregoravich glanced down. “I can smell traces of the queen.”

  Mikhail leaped up, climbing fast. “Gavril said to go up.” He gripped each notch in the mountain and launched himself up, clamoring to the top first.

  He gasped, inhaling deeply of that sweet jasmine and sunshine scent. Something half covered in the whirling snow caught his eye. Kneeling, he lifted the dagger he’d given her and smelled the drop of blood at its tip. Not her blood. But certainly not a death wound by the mere drop left here.

  Gregoravich was at his side, puffing out a great lungful of air.

  “Damn, Captain. You were up that cliff like a cat.”

  Yuri followed.

  “Here, Gregory. Touch here.” He pointed to the snow where the dagger had lain, sliding the dagger into his belt.

  Gregory did so without hesitation, bowing his head as he read the memory upon this ground. His shoulders tightened and heartbeat accelerated. Mikhail’s own pulse kept pace, fearing the worst. When Gregory lifted his head, his eyes were sparking with blue flame, wild with otherworld energy vibrating through him.

  “Tell me,” commanded Mikhail. “Everything.”

  “It is definitely King Dominik.” Gregoravich stood, and Mikhail with him. “He…he bit the queen and injected her with his elixir. She is under his thrall.”

  A fierce growl erupted from Mikhail’s gut and up his throat.

  “They definitely took her to Izeling.” His expression grew sharper under the moonlight. “And they tossed Gavril over the cliff. Assuming we would kill him if he survived the fall.”

  Mikhail suffered a pang of remorse for thinking ill of Gavril even for a second. “The king doesn’t know us.”

  They stepped away toward the edge. Mikhail gripped Gregoravich by the forearm, asking low, “Did he hurt her?”