One Bite

by Jennifer Blackstream

  Serafina backed away until she leaned against the windowsill, crossing her arms. “That coffin has been sealed with magic. To open it, you will need the same blood that was used to fuse it.” Suddenly she reached out to the side and opened a hidden cupboard. She snatched something from its confines and before Kirill could stop her, she threw open the window, smashed four vials and threw the contents behind her, out into the air. He darted over to her, finding the cupboard full of small vials with names and species labeled on them.

  “To open that coffin, you will need the blood of the four kings who rule the surrounding realms,” she cackled. “And I promise you, they will not give that blood up easily. If you take it by force, Dacia will be thrown into war and there will be no throne for you to take.”

  Kirill shouted for Isai and the wizard quickly stepped up to the coffin. He held his hands over the wood, mumbling something under his breath. A glow encased his fingers as he fluttered them over the glass, walking around the coffin as he did so. His eyes glowed brighter as he seemed to stare into nothingness, then abruptly he dropped his arms to his sides. He looked at Kirill and nodded, confirming what Serafina had said.

  “Tell me what you did to her. How do I wake her up?” Kirill demanded, lowering his voice to an almost deadly tone.

  Serafina crossed her arms. “There is nothing you can do to wake her up. Irina is dead.” She leaned against the window and smiled. “Now, if you want to come to your senses and bond with me, then perhaps—”

  Kirill barely felt the pressure against his flesh as he grabbed Serafina’s legs through her voluminous skirts and lifted, shoving her out the window. The sorceress shrieked as she fell, the sound halted by a splash. He stepped to the window and looked down. The water of the moat frothed, the bubbles pink with blood as whatever beast Serafina used to guard her castle consumed its mistress.

  A deafening silence fell on the room. Kirill stared into the moat for a few moments, waiting for a feeling of dread to take him. Serafina had been helpful, there was no denying that. And she had been powerful, perhaps his most powerful ally. She’d known that and that was probably the single most important factor in how easy ending her life had been. Never in her long life could the sorceress have suspected Kirill would kill her, not like that, not so quickly. Kirill snorted. Honestly, he’d sort of surprised himself.

  Kirill moved back to the trapdoor. “Isai, come here and help me lift this coffin out.”

  The wizard shifted uncomfortably. “Your Majesty, you heard Serafina. Irina is dead.”

  Fury boiled the blood in Kirill’s veins, but instead of exploding, the anger calmed him. He looked up at the wizard standing a few yards away, letting the magic wielder look into his eyes. When the wizard’s eyes widened slightly, Kirill tilted his head. “Get over here and help me or so help me I will burn one page of your spellbook at a time.”

  Isai’s jaw dropped. Kirill expected the proud man to rage, to threaten Kirill with all manner of unholy deaths. And yet the wizard said nothing. He just did as Kirill had commanded and helped lift the coffin from beneath the floor.

  “Thank you,” Kirill said quietly. “Now, please go back through the mirror and send for the seven dwarves that live in the cottage right outside the east gardens.”

  The wizard didn’t hesitate. When he disappeared through the mirror, Kirill returned his gaze to the coffin, staring at Irina’s smooth, pale face. For one horrible second, he let himself consider the fact that killing Serafina may have meant ending the life of the only person who could break whatever spell Irina was under. Surely Serafina had been lying when she said Irina was dead? She couldn’t be dead. No matter how still her body lie there… “Gargoyle,” he said softly. “You brought me to Serafina’s to save Irina. You must know what I am to do?”

  “I do. You must get the blood to open the coffin.”

  Kirill closed his eyes and counted to ten, struggling to rein in his temper. “Then Serafina was right. I will need the blood of the four kings, and getting that blood will likely end in war.” He shook his head. “Dacia is not strong enough to face down a war against all four.”

  “You could always ask nicely.”

  A humorless laugh escaped Kirill’s lips. “No king would be so foolish as to give up their blood to the prince of another kingdom. They do not know me, but I am certain they know of me. None of them would trust me.”

  “If only you could get the blood of the kings from another source.”

  Kirill shook his head. “Serafina was a crafty old sorceress. I don’t know how she got their blood to begin with, but I doubt there is another out there who managed the same feat.”

  “You’re not thinking the problem through properly.”

  “Then what?” Kirill roared, spinning around to face the insufferable gargoyle. All the rage, all the despair that he’d felt since seeing Irina’s poor pale face under the glass lid of the coffin rushed up to pour out of his mouth. “Where can I find the blood of the four kings?”

  “In the veins of their sons,” the gargoyle answered calmly.

  Kirill froze. Etienne, Adonis, Saamal, Patricio. Would they…

  “You stepped in to help keep the trolls from moving into Etienne’s territory,” the gargoyle pointed out.

  “But the other three have no obligation toward me.” Kirill’s mind spun as he tried to think of what he could offer them. The other kingdoms were not as rich as Dacia, but they were close. Besides, Kirill’s father wouldn’t lift a finger or offer a single coin to save Irina’s life. He looked around the room at all of Serafina’s belongings. Perhaps there was some object of power he could offer them…

  “You are overthinking it,” the gargoyle said wryly. “What would Irina do?”

  Kirill barked a laugh. “She would just ask them.” He sobered, staring at the gargoyle in disbelief. “You cannot be serious?”

  “Only one way to find out.” The gargoyle blinked and the mirror shimmered. “Start with Prince Etienne.”

  “It won’t work,” Kirill insisted. He snorted. “Etienne especially will not be inclined to give me his blood. He’ll think—they’ll all think—that I’m just trying to cut them out of the prophecy, trying to find a way to unlock the new kingdom without them so I don’t have to share.”

  “That is the consequence of being a power hungry information hoarder,” the gargoyle agreed.

  Kirill snarled. “Then why did you suggest it?” His hands flexed, his fingers aching to close around the gargoyle’s throat and squeeze until it crumbled to dust.

  “Etienne has just found his wife. He is in love. If you bring him here, he will see the way you look at Irina.” The gargoyle’s eyes shone like pearls as it stared down at him. “He will help you.” It shrugged. “I’d bet my tail on it.”

  Doubt threatened to close Kirill’s throat and he had to swallow twice before he could speak. “You’re certain?”

  The gargoyle’s gaze remained steady. “I’m quite fond of my tail.”

  This was not how things were done. He needed time, more time to think, to plan. He needed to consult his books, to call in favors. Surely he could find someone among his allies who knew how to break the spell? Someone who could wake Irina up and get her out of that coffin?

  “Kirill,” the gargoyle said softly.

  Kirill raised a hand to run it over his face. He froze, pulling it back and staring at his fingers. They were trembling.

  “Step through the mirror, Kirill.”

  Absentmindedly, Kirill slid his hands down his body, comforted by the feel of his daggers. Regardless of what was on the other side of the mirror, he would not be helpless. More the pity for anyone, or anything, that got in his way. He jerked his head up to stare at the gargoyle. “All right.”

  The gargoyle nodded encouragement as Kirill passed through the mirror. Ice broke out over his body, freezing him to his core. The sensation was so sudden, so unexpected, that for a moment Kirill feared the gargoyle had tricked him. Rage sizzled through his veins and
he charged with a roar. Bubbles flowed from his mouth before his face broke some sort of surface. Wind buffeted him and Kirill’s enraged mind vaguely realized that he’d just broken through the surface of some sort of lake.

  A low, rumbling growl tickled his ears and Kirill shook himself out of his shock long enough to realize he was still standing waist deep in water. He looked to the bank, his eyes widening as he found himself facing two large brown wolves, bodies low to the hard-packed earth and lips pulled back in a snarl that revealed red gums and sharp white teeth. Behind them were three slightly smaller wolves, also baring their canines at him. Suddenly the largest wolf raised its head, the snarl ceasing to trickle from its lips.

  Its fur rolled on its back, receding to reveal human skin. Seconds later, Kirill found himself facing Prince Etienne of Sanguenay.

  “Kirill?” Etienne asked, his voice still growly from his recent time in wolf form. “What in the name of the Great Wolf are you doing here?” He stared at Kirill, taking in the soaked prince’s bedraggled appearance. “Why are you in the lake? What are you doing in Sanguenay?” He dragged an evaluating gaze up and down Kirill’s body before slowly taking in the surrounding trees. His nose twitched as he scented the air, no doubt trying to see if Kirill was truly alone.

  Kirill forced a smile to his face, resisting the urge to wring out his clothing. Being dead, the cold didn’t bother him, but he hated being wet. It made weapons harder to draw, and… He stopped, taking a moment to center himself. He was not here to fight. He was here to…ask for help.

  “Ah, Your Highness, how nice to see you again.” He glanced at the wolves. “This must be your lovely family.” His smile flickered as he took in the three younger wolves. “I, um, didn’t know that you had started a family.” He bowed to the female wolf. “Congratulations are in order.”

  “They’re adopted,” Etienne snarled. Kirill raised his eyebrows at the blush that crossed the prince’s face as the female wolf bared her teeth at him. Etienne refused to look at her and glared at Kirill instead. “What do you want, Kirill, or did you just come here to make trouble?”

  Kirill tried his best to think of some way he could phrase his request that wouldn’t put Etienne on the defensive, but unfortunately their relationship made that impossible. He briefly considered pointing out that Etienne owed him for helping with the trolls, but just as quickly discarded the idea. Finally, he just looked Etienne in the eye. “I need you to come with me. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I don’t have time to convince you. All I can do is ask that you trust me.”

  Etienne stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You can’t be serious? You realize that you are one of the least trustworthy gentlemen I know?” He crossed his arms. “And I use the word ‘gentlemen’ very, very loosely.”

  He really shouldn’t cross his arms when facing someone he doesn’t trust, Kirill noted automatically. He shook himself. That kind of thinking was inappropriate here. He was trying to be friendly. Irina’s life depended on his ability to convince this man to help him. “An innocent woman’s life hangs in the balance,” he told Etienne. “I’m asking you, please, help me save her. Just come with me, see the situation for yourself. If you don’t want to help then, you can leave.”

  The female wolf whined and a few seconds later, a naked woman stood before him. Kirill turned his head away, respectfully, as Etienne nearly swallowed his tongue.

  “Loupe!” he gasped, “Please!” He practically dove in front of her, blocking her pale body from Kirill’s view as Kirill turned back.

  “Oh, he couldn’t care less if I’m naked,” Loupe insisted, swiping a lock of long golden hair out of her face. Nevertheless snuggling against her husband’s back. “Can’t you tell he’s in love?”

  Etienne made a scoffing sound and Kirill didn’t blame him. He was only surprised that he himself didn’t feel more disdainful of Loupe’s wild claim. It must be the shock of all that’s happened, he assured himself.

  “He’s a vampire and he cares only about being king,” Etienne said clearly.

  “He’s standing here, in a forest, on your territory, dripping wet, and asking you for help,” Loupe said, speaking slowly as if she were talking to a small child. “It’s a woman. Honestly, Etienne, do I have to draw you a picture?”

  Her body shivered violently and Etienne turned, still blocking her from Kirill’s sight. “Take your wolf form before you freeze to death. I will handle the vampire.”

  She didn’t need to be told twice. Kirill turned his head again as the princess vanished into her thick furred beast.

  “Etienne, I know you don’t trust me and you shouldn’t,” Kirill said quietly, turning back to face him. “But I did help you not long ago.” He shook his head and turned beseeching eyes to the werewolf prince. “You have to know what it cost me to come to you for help. Please, I ask only that you come and see the situation for yourself.”

  Etienne stared at him, his face pinched with suspicion still. Kirill’s shoulders sagged. This is what Irina had been trying to tell him. It was all fine and well to have political allies, but sometimes you needed friendship. Kirill could have instigated a friendship with Etienne. Way back when they’d first met at the World Tree, he could have said nice things and tried to nurture camaraderie with the werewolf. But he hadn’t. He’d approached the situation as he always did, cool and confident, trying to project strength and independence. And now, he was forced to beg, to plead with a man who believed Kirill was not capable of selflessness. Had he been a friend, he would be at Irina’s side already.

  After a few moments pause and a sound that sounded suspiciously like a nip from his wife, Etienne sighed. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter 13

  Irina screamed, a long, helpless, rage-filled sound. She viciously swiped at everything she could in Serafina’s lair, but nothing moved. Her hands passed through the glass harmlessly, and not even a breeze stirred the thick parchments. She swirled around the room like an angry, incorporeal wind. She had no idea what the sorceress had done to her. Of all the times Serafina had locked Irina in the glass coffin, never had Irina’s spirit left her body. Quite the contrary, Serafina had always left her awake and fully conscious of her imprisonment. She’d spent days in the magic coffin, not dying, but trapped in darkness and a tiny, tiny space. This was both better and worse.

  And Kirill… Irina put her wavering hands over her eyes. He’d been here, had tried to rescue her. Oh, the horror on his face when he’d seen the coffin, the despair when he’d learned what it would take to open it. When he’d thrown Serafina from the window, Irina had hardly been able to breathe through the emotion choking her incorporeal throat. He cared for her. And she’d run from him and gotten them both into this…mess.

  Kirill couldn’t see her, couldn’t hear her. She’d tried to yell, tried to touch him, but the vampire didn’t even flinch.

  Serafina had won. Flowing up to the window, Irina looked down into the brackish water of the moat. Beside the water, a trail led off into the forest, the footsteps clear as crystal in the snow. She still couldn’t believe that the sea monster had been human. Whatever curse Serafina had used to turn her into a sea monster, it had ended as the sorceress was digested. Irina had ghosted to the window just in time to see the woman crawl out of the water, stumbling a bit as she realized she was human again. Irina had desperately wanted to help her, but her cries had gone unanswered. She didn’t even have the strength to throw a blanket out the window.

  “I packed the lady a bag with clothes, blankets, and some modest provisions.”

  A tiny shriek of surprise erupted from Irina’s lips and she whirled around. Her jaw dropped as she found the domovoi standing behind her. It took more effort than she cared to admit not to step back at the sight of the small spirit, covered head to foot in black hair. His empty black eyes glinted at her from the darkness of his face, betraying not even the slightest emotion.

  “What…what do you mean?” Irina managed finally, her voice on
ly wavering a little. Her mind whirled as it occurred to her that the domovoi could see her. “You can see me?”

  The domovoi offered a small nod. “You are the lady of the castle now, Mistress. You were distressed that you could not help Sonya, so I took it upon myself to make certain she was provided for. I spoke to a few fey who promised to lead her to the village where she will find shelter.”

  “Her family?”

  The domovoi furrowed his brow. “I believe they have all passed. She has been in Serafina’s care for nearly a century.” He tilted his head. “The villagers near this castle are kind. Do not worry about her.”

  “You know her name. Sonya?”

  The domovoi nodded.

  “How can you know her name, know who she was, and not have helped her before?” Irina demanded, her body shaking with rage that had no where else to go. “All that time she was trapped in a monstrous body, held in Serafina’s moat like a ghastly pet. How could you bear that?”