One Bite

by Jennifer Blackstream

  “My realm is limited to the household,” the domovoi answered calmly. “I have little care for what is outside. And my former mistress was not the least bit bothered by Sonya’s transformation, so there was no reason that I should feel so.”

  It didn’t make sense. Even a domovoi shouldn’t be that cold. Irina paused. Speaking of cold…

  “How can I be your mistress if I am dead?” she asked quietly.

  The domovoi’s eyebrows shot up. “You are not dead,” he said, his voice betraying his surprise. “You are asleep, yes, but not dead.”

  “But Serafina said…”

  The domovoi shrugged. “I’m sure if she’d known that Prince Kirill would throw her into the moat, she would have been more forthcoming.”

  Irina furrowed her brow, looking from her body in the coffin to her incorporeal form. “But, I’m a ghost. How can I not be dead?”

  “You are only half human. It is your human half that made you vulnerable to Serafina’s poison, but it is your other half that is letting you astral project. You are not a ghost, you are merely existing on a different plane.”

  “How do I wake up so I can move about on this plane?” Irina asked, hope giving her voice an edge of excitement.

  “I would not be concerned with that until you discover how to open the coffin.”

  Her hopes shattered and dread wormed through her stomach. She hesitated before glancing back at the coffin, at her body lying so still and pale under the glass.

  “Have faith, Mistress. The vampire seemed very keen on getting you out.”

  A sad smile tugged at the corner of Irina’s mouth at the mention of Kirill. The sight of the vampire’s distress had warmed her heart. Until that moment, she’d actually managed to convince herself that she’d meant nothing to him. That all that had been between them was lust. But seeing his eyes, hearing his fury…perhaps he did care.

  “Even if he does care, I’m afraid it will do no good,” Irina murmured finally. “Kirill is too practical. He may care for me, but he cares for his people as well, and he believes what is best for them is for him to be king.” She cleared her throat, annoyed that she could get choked up even when she was just a spirit. “To get the blood of the princes of the other four kingdoms, Kirill would have to make unbelievable bargains. He would never risk putting himself in such a vulnerable position.”

  Suddenly the mirror shimmered. Without a sound, the domovoi vanished from sight, disappearing just before magic crackled from the mirror. Kirill stepped through, followed immediately by four other men. The first one had soft brown hair and golden eyes like a wolf. He was wearing a red shirt that seemed a size or two too small for him, and pants that did not fit much better. He tugged at the garments, grumbling something under his breath.

  Next came a man with a mop of brown curls and a sparkle of mischief in his hazel eyes. He quirked an eyebrow at the man in front of him.

  “Etienne, you don’t have to wear my clothes. You’re obviously uncomfortable and, frankly, you’re going to ruin them if you don’t quit pawing at them. Just take them off and go skin to the wind. No one here is going to judge you.”

  “Oh, for the love of the Great Wolf, Adonis, I am not going to parade around naked,” Etienne growled.

  “Seems to me you parade around naked a lot,” Adonis pointed out. “I know it’s a werewolf thing, but if nudity bothers you so much, perhaps you should take Kirill up on his suggestion of hiding some clothes in the woods for these occasions?”

  “I don’t have a problem with nudity,” Etienne snapped. “I just don’t think it’s appropriate in this situation.”

  “You mean because Kirill told you to put some clothes on?” He grinned. “I guess the vampire prince doesn’t want you flaunting the royal jewels in front of his woman.”

  Irina’s eyebrows, which had been steadily rising throughout the men’s conversation, shot up even farther. These men were here with Kirill? His woman?

  That train of thought was momentarily derailed when a third man stepped through the mirror behind the arguing pair. He flexed his wings, rustling white feathers and sending little currents of air through the room. Wings. He’s an angel. Towering over the others by nearly a foot—not even counting his wings—the blond giant kept shooting dirty looks at the grinning man in front of him. Adonis, Etienne had called him. Behind the angel, a man with black hair and eyes as dark as coal followed the others. There was a certain calm about him that was catching and Irina found herself settling despite her circumstances. Then the man looked at her and smiled. She jerked her spine straight. “Can you see me?”

  “Yes,” he said softly.

  The object of the angel’s ire jerked his head around, his eyes widening when he saw her. “Oh. Why hello there. I’m Adonis, what’s your name?”

  “You…you can see me too?” Hope blossomed to life in Irina’s breath.

  “Who are you talking to?” the angel asked suspiciously.

  Kirill darted forward, grabbing the demon by the arms. “What is it? Who do you see?”

  “Whoa, there, hold on, Your Highness,” the brunet said. “It’s a girl, dark hair, beautiful pale skin.” He winked at Irina. “A real beauty.”

  “Irina?”

  Adonis leaned back, his eyes wide with confusion. “Who’s Irina?”

  Kirill pointed to the coffin and Irina flinched.

  “Oh,” the man said. He frowned. “Oh.” He looked back at Irina then at her body inside the coffin. Then he looked at Kirill. “Ohhhhh—”

  “If you draw that out for one more syllable,” the angel snarled.

  “Enough!” Kirill’s shout boomed in the room and the other men all turned to him. He gestured from the demon to the silent man. “You two, you can see her?”

  “Yes,” the soft spoken man answered. “The spirit of the young woman in the coffin is standing there, behind that chair.” He smiled at Irina again. “Irina, I am Prince Saamal. You’ve met Prince Adonis, you obviously already know Prince Kirill. The gentleman with wings is Prince Patricio and our golden-eyed friend is Prince Etienne.”

  Kirill whirled to face her and Irina’s heart leapt in her chest. She held her breath, praying Kirill would see her. The way his eyes flickered back and forth as he searched the area told her he did not. He turned back to the men.

  “The woman in the coffin is Irina. Her stepmother put her under a spell and locked her in there and I need your help to free her.”

  Didn’t mince his words there, did he? Irina thought, a little surprised at the surge of affection she felt for the vampire. He was so bossy, even when he didn’t understand what was going on.

  Etienne walked over to the coffin, leaning down so his ear was just over the glass. After a moment, he pulled back to stare down at Irina. Finally, he shook his head. “Kirill,” he said gently, raising his gaze to the vampire’s face. “She’s dead.”

  Pain lanced Irina’s heart at the way Kirill’s body flinched at the other prince’s words. He straightened his spine and stared him down. “Do I look like a man who is deterred by death?” He focused on Irina’s body in the coffin. “Dead or not, she will not stay in there.”

  “She isn’t dead,” Adonis corrected them. He gestured at Irina’s form hovering by the chair. “That is her astral projection, not her ghost.”

  Kirill’s head snapped up. “Are you certain?”

  Adonis crossed his arms. “Are you seriously asking an incubus if he can tell the difference between a ghost and an astral projection? Do I question your ability to tell the difference between a carcass and fresh prey?”

  Before Kirill could respond, the mirror wavered. Irina’s heart clenched as Ivan’s irate face appeared, quickly followed by his six brothers.

  “Oh, ho, what’s this?” Adonis asked, staring with interest at the seven dwarves.

  Ivan shot him an irritated look before plunging the rest of the way through the mirror and crossing his arms. “What are we doing here, Isai?” he demanded over his shoulder. “Do you
think that just because you’re a wizard that you can—” He stopped abruptly as his gaze landed on the coffin. Irina’s eyes teared up at the look of horror that blossomed on his face as he dashed across the room. Pasha was behind him and he let out a wail as he followed Ivan. In seconds the dwarves had surrounded the coffin and were wringing their hats in their hands as they stared inside.

  “Irina!” Pasha sobbed.

  “What happened to her?” Ivan roared.

  Kirill cleared his throat and Irina looked over to find him sharing an uncomfortable look with Isai.

  “I didn’t know what to tell them,” Isai said stiffly.

  “This is my fault,” Kirill answered calmly. “It is for me to tell them.” He turned to face the dwarves, only the little line between his eyebrows giving away his distress.

  “I had you brought here for Irina. At the time I sent for you, I did not know if she was…” He cleared his throat. “I thought she might be dead. She spoke of you as family so…

  “You were right to call us,” Ivan said tersely, rushing to the coffin.

  “Serafina has done this. Somehow she’s harmed Irina and trapped her in that coffin.” He set his jaw and lifted his chin. “I am going to do everything in my power to help her. You have my word.”

  Irina put her hand over her heart, smiling even as tears streamed down her face. Her scary vampire prince was trying to offer her friends comfort.

  “How can we help?” the angel asked.

  Kirill’s jaw tightened. Irina shook her head sadly. She didn’t envy him his task. Blood was not something one shared with just anyone, not when it was the key to so much power and control. These men didn’t know her. And even if they knew Kirill, that would hardly be motivation enough to offer up their essence.

  “Irina’s stepmother sealed the coffin with the blood of the four kings,” Kirill said quietly. He held up a hand as Etienne’s eyes widened. “I had nothing to do with it, and I don’t know how she accomplished it. All I know is that without that blood, I cannot free Irina from the prison of that glass coffin.” He straightened his spine, meeting the eyes of each man in turn. “I need each of you to touch the corner of the coffin that holds the blood of your father.” He looked at the golden-eyed man. “Etienne, you can tell which corner has which blood, can’t you?”

  Etienne nodded automatically then his eyes widened and he scowled. “You have to be kidding me. Why the howl should we trust you? Who is this girl anyway? Some political key that you need to put yourself on your father’s throne?”

  “She is as hopeless at politics as I am at making friends,” Kirill said softly.

  Irina covered her mouth with her fingers to stop her lower lip from trembling. She wished she could reach out and comfort Kirill. The pain in his eyes teased her hopes, convincing her that maybe, just maybe he was not as cold as he would have her believe.

  “I tried to use her for political gain, tried to use her connections. She’s a hopeless politician, but she holds the affection of a number of people.” He gestured to the dwarves huddled around the coffin, crying as they looked at the girl under the glass. “She is as loved as I am mistrusted and I…thought she would be valuable.”

  He cleared his throat “She was hurt twice while in my care, but I was too busy with my own machinations to protect her. Now she’s trapped and I blame myself.”

  The other men stared in shock. Irina didn’t blame them. A few hours ago, she never would have believed this side of Kirill existed either.

  Kirill turned back to face the other men. “There is little I have to offer four princes such as yourselves. However, one thing I can offer is information.” He hesitated for a split second before clenching his hands into fists and lifting his chin. “I have more information about the World Tree prophecy. Not much, but some. If you help me save Irina, I will give you access to all of my research.” He nodded once. “There will be no more secrets between us.”

  “So,” Etienne growled. “What you’re saying is that, if we help you, you will give us information you should have shared with us from the beginning? Is that it?” He scoffed. “You must think we are fools if you believe we’ll give a scheming villain like you our blood just because you’ve dangled some poor girl’s body in front of us.”

  Kirill stalked over to the large table piled high with potions and candles. He searched through the mess, knocking things about until he discovered a small box of empty vials with blank labels and a small quill. He raised a finger to his mouth, cutting his skin on a fang. Without a word, he let his blood drip into four vials and then sealed them. One by one he handed them to the princes.

  “There. I’m asking for your blood and I’m giving you mine.”

  Isai’s mouth opened and closed, his eyes wide as saucers. He eyed the vials and Irina narrowed her eyes. She didn’t like the way the wizard was staring at the samples of Kirill’s blood like a hungry wolf would eye an injured animal.

  “Your Majesty…” the wizard objected. “Offering your own blood—”

  Kirill held up a hand. “It is the only way I can convince them that I am serious.” He looked into Etienne’s eyes. “You must know now how desperate I am for your help,” he whispered.

  Prince Saamal turned to face Irina again. “What a wonderful maiden you must be to have pried open Kirill’s heart.” Warmth glowed in his eyes and Irina couldn’t help but smile back. “Let us get to it then,” he said, walking over to stand by the coffin.

  Prince Patricio and Prince Adonis moved to the coffin as well, but Prince Etienne crossed his arms. “I want your oath that if we unlock the Great New Kingdom, you will not try to position yourself as the ultimate ruler.”

  The muscles in Kirill’s shoulder jerked, tension rolling off of him in thick waves. Irina found she was actually holding her breath, eyes wide as she waited for Kirill’s reaction. She had no idea what the men were talking about, what the World Tree and Great New Kingdom had to do with them. But she did know Kirill and judging by what she’d overheard so far, there was power to be had. The vampire was facing Etienne, his back to Irina. She flowed forward until she could see his face.

  Several long minutes slid by, only the tic in Kirill’s jaw giving away his agitation. Finally, he straightened his spine.

  “There will be no slavery and the tithe shall not exceed one eighth of any family’s income,” he answered quietly.

  Irina’s eyebrows shot to her hairline and her lips parted. The werewolf dropped his arms, staring, dumbfounded, at Kirill.

  “You would swear the oath…under the stipulation that the people—”

  “Are not enslaved and are not forced to tithe themselves into poverty,” Kirill said firmly.

  Etienne continued to stare. “I would never—”

  “Assumptions do no one any favors,” the vampire insisted calmly. “Will you agree to those terms, Etienne? Your oath?”

  Etienne nodded, staring at Kirill as if he’d never seen him before. “I will.”

  Kirill turned to the three men standing by the glass coffin. They each nodded in turn, murmuring an oath as they did so. Irina’s eyes teared up. For the first time in her life, she thought she just might be standing in front of a man who would have made a just king.

  Etienne joined the other princes standing by the coffin. After sniffing at her prison, he pointed each man in turn to a corner. Almost moving as one, each prince drew his own blood and placed it against the smooth golden surface of Serafina’s creation. Energy filled the room with warm static and Irina held her breath as Kirill stepped up and put his hands on the lid and lifted. They all released a breath as the lid easily rose. They helped ease it down. Irina braced herself, expecting her spirit to be sucked back into her body.

  Nothing happened.

  Kirill reached in, hesitating for only a second before stroking her cheek then brushing a strand of hair back from her face. “Irina,” he whispered. “Can you hear me?’

  Dread wormed its way through Irina’s stomach. Something wasn�
��t right. She wasn’t waking up. What was wrong with her? A lump formed in her throat.

  “Irina?”

  She jerked her head up, finding herself staring into the eyes of the soft-spoken man—Prince Saamal. “Yes?” she asked, angrily swiping at her tears.

  “Can you tell us what’s wrong with you?” the man continued gently. “Do you know how we can wake you up?”

  Irina shook her head miserably. “No. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Suddenly she remembered the apple, the horrible dizzying sensation that had consumed her after just one bite. “The apple was poisoned,” she whispered. She stared at the man in horror. “She poisoned me.”

  “Poisoned you?”

  “What is going on?” Kirill demanded. “Did you say she was poisoned?”