by Irina Argo
In fact, the King probably could just make all of this go away, but he wasn’t doing a damned thing. “I understand we have a lot to talk about,” he’d said in Aldeia Alada. Yeah, right. He hadn’t said shit to her since then. In fact, he hadn’t said anything to anyone. He’d ignored her completely, like she wasn’t even there. And she hadn’t even dared to make eye contact with him.
She turned to Theores, who was following her down the steps. “Theores, what am I going to do?” Theores was on the Council; she could get Simone out of this. “Can’t I just go to the villa and be under house arrest there?”
“I’m afraid not.” Theores shrugged. “I really am sorry, Sim. You have to go with the Legacy for a while.” Then she bent down and whispered into Simone’s ear, “I anticipate that you’ll actually have some fun there.”
Simone sighed helplessly and followed the Legacy warriors to the helicopter. Tor, Theores, and the rest of the King’s party proceeded to the waiting vehicles.
Simone watched her father get into the car, hoping he’d at least glance her way, but he didn’t. She kept watching as Odji closed the door and got into the driver’s seat. She couldn’t see through the tinted windows, but she knew he was looking anywhere except at her.
Why was she so hurt by his behavior? It wasn’t like it was a surprise. He’d always been distant and withdrawn, never affectionate. She felt cheated; she couldn’t remember a single warm embrace from him, not a single hug or even the tender touch of his hand. What it would take for her to win his love? Was she doomed to fight for the love of every man she cared about in her life? What a depressing thought. Maybe before the Confederation killed her she’d write Tor a letter telling him how much she loved him. Maybe then she’d finally get a little attention from him and he’d spend a couple of minutes grieving her death. She called up an image in her mind: Tor at his desk, an unfolded letter in his hand, face grief-stricken.
Finally she was getting some comfort from him. Too bad it was just in her imagination—and she’d have to die to make it happen.
Chapter 20
The Royal pride’s residence, Nice, France
Theores usually had only disdain for humans, with their short, shitty lives, but right now she could sympathize with one thing they dealt with: the awkward elevator ride. Other than a couple of terse sentences to Odji and Simone, and of course turning on the royal charm for the winged demons’ celebration, Tor had said nothing in what felt like days.
The King’s silence had been like a noose slowly strangling them to the point where no one could even bring themselves to ask Tor whether he wanted them to stick around. She, Anock, and Odji had piled into the elevator after him, and then the three of them had frozen, throwing furtive glances at each other, silently asking which floor? The King had punched his button—and Theores was off the hook, since she and Tor both occupied suites on the mansion’s top floor. But that left Anock and Odji to figure out whether to peel off at their living quarters on the third floor or stay with Tor and Theores. She shot a barely observable shrug at Odji and Anock and they shrugged back.
And then the moment was over—the elevator was moving, and neither of them had pushed a button—so fourth floor it was. And the silence continued.
They were all so tense that when Tor’s hand shot out to push the emergency stop button, they all jerked in surprise. Tor either didn’t notice or pretended not to.
“I have two things to say,” the King began.
Well okay then: it was going to be an impromptu meeting right here.
“One: my daughter’s hearing before the Council will be for appearance’s sake only, and only because I recognize their need to display a façade of equal treatment for all. Two, Anock and Odji, you are to go to her immediately and stay with her until this farce ends. I don’t care if the Legacy doesn’t want you there; get in there and stay on her like white on rice. Nothing bad happens to her. Understand?” They nodded. “And Theores, I need you in my study.” His hand jabbed out again, lightning-fast, hitting the button for the bodyguards’ floor and releasing the emergency stop, and then it was stillness and silence again as the elevator glided upward. Anock and Odji gave her sympathetic glances as they got off.
It wasn’t fear of the King behind their discomfort; it was not knowing what he’d do or what they should do. The guy was as upset as she’d ever seen him, but he was always such a damn machine about not showing emotions—positive or negative—that even she couldn’t get a fix on the subtleties; all she could do was identify the broad outlines, like anger or pleasure. Right now it was sadness and frustration, and maybe even a little fear.
The elevator arrived at their floor, and he stalked quickly past her and into his suite, leaving her to catch up. In the study, it was like all the air had left the room. Tor stood at the bar, his back to her, pouring and tossing back some kind of booze at an astonishing speed, his hands moving so quickly that he was probably getting impatient having to wait for gravity to drain the liquid out of the bottle. At the sound of the door closing, his body abruptly tensed and sagged all at once.
He was like this when he was upset; his ordinarily smooth, liquid motions gone, replaced by this staccato combination: total stillness interrupted by speed that was blurry even to Theores’s thousand-year-old vampire eyes. She imagined that humans would’ve only seen a series of still images, like photographs, with nothing between them. Her job was to shut up for a couple of minutes while he calmed himself—
Shit! She jumped again as he exploded into motion. The bottle smashed against the wall and the surface of his desk was suddenly bare. It all happened so fast that by the time her senses registered the sounds—crashing bottle, thunks of laptop, lamp, and who-knew-what-else off the desk, and then the fluttering of paper settling to the floor—Tor was already sitting in the desk chair.
She quickly assessed the situation. Dented wall from the force of Tor hurling the bottle. Not much liquid, so he’d almost drained it first—and damn, that was expensive Scotch; a part of her that had never adjusted to living in luxury flinched at the waste. Assorted crap strewn across the floor: paper, pens, shards of crystal—paperweights?—everywhere. Crunches of metal that used to be a laptop and lamp.
And he was scrubbing his hands over his face, massaging his temples, looking so tired and drained, harsh lines etched on his face from the tightness of his expression. She marveled again at his ability to keep his feelings under wraps in public, even around his pride.
Finally, he spoke, starting mid-thought like they’d already been talking—which was fine: she knew him well enough that it might as well have been true. “Obviously as Simone’s pride we have to recuse ourselves from the Council vote. Without direct input, we must use our influence in other ways.” He switched modes, enunciating his words slowly, decisively. “Theores, I am counting on you to make sure this goes away. I need you to work with the Council, pull any and all strings, call in favors—whatever you need to do to ensure that there will be no mistakes. We both understand that Simone’s Court appearance is no more than a mockery, a show for the attendees. It must stay that way; there must be no death penalty. Is this something you are absolutely certain you can arrange? Don’t say yes just to mollify me. This is too important.”
Out of respect for him, she ran through the situation in her mind once more even though she knew she could—she would—take care of everything. “Yes. Of course. Don’t worry; I’ll take care of it. Don’t even concern yourself with such matters.” She paused for a second. “You know I love her, too.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Tor packed a lot into those three words, and Theores saw his face relax a little. Of course he was still worried, would be until this situation officially ended, but she felt a flush of gratification over their exchange. She knew her unofficial job title was trusted advisor to the King, and this was what that meant: he could ask if she had things under control, she could say yes, and he’d believe her.
“Well then, sinc
e I have the situation with Simone under control, we should probably switch gears and deal with the Sekhmi pride that has Arianna.”
“Yeah. What a clusterfuck that turned into.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It seems to have stabilized, Sire. Shall I set up a call with our contact?”
“It’s not your fault. It was ultimately my call; it’s my responsibility. Yes, go ahead and initiate contact.”
Theores glanced at the mangled laptop on the floor and excused herself to go find one that worked.
* * *
Tor literally had not had a moment alone since receiving word about Simone’s unfortunate mistake, and his normally reliable mind had been stuck in a loop of worry about her ever since. But now, with Theores taking over the Council situation, it was time to switch to the business side of things, from thinking of Simone as his daughter to viewing her as one piece of a puzzle that had to be solved.
Simone was important to him, but she was crucial to the Sekhmi as a whole. She was not only the princess; she was the Keeper of the Mystery of Life. Istara had appointed her to that role shortly after her birth, and for a while everything had gone smoothly. Marcus—leader of the Order of the Eye of Ra, Arianna’s father, and the one Tor blamed for Istara’s fate—had become less belligerent. Presumably he’d been distracted by fatherhood and secure in the knowledge that the Amiti Queen was under his wing, and planned to wait until Arianna came into her powers before taking more aggressive steps to gather the Keepers in preparation for turning the Key.
But then Marcus had died, the Order had apparently lost track of Arianna, and Oberon, the Keeper of the Hidden and the Order’s new leader, had led renewed efforts to locate and mobilize the Keepers. The main obstacle in their way was Simone, the half-blood Keeper who would never cooperate with them. Simone, who without even knowing it yet, was ensuring the survival of the entire vampire race.
The Order’s problem would be solved, and Simone’s Keeper powers brought back into Amiti hands, if they assassinated Simone. Tor knew their pursuit of her was a matter of when, not if, and took every precaution to keep his daughter safe. The Guardians of the Lioness, under Anock’s capable leadership, had operatives’ ears to the ground at all times, and their intelligence-gathering skills were excellent. His two favorite bodyguards, Anock and Odji, watched over her day and night.
But still, it was too risky for the Sekhmi. They needed more than one half-blood Keeper as security against the Key from being turned.
What they really needed was to have the Amiti Queen back on their side. That would give them two Keepers with veto powers, and with the Queen also responsible for appointing new Keepers, they could get more—or get her to leave the positions vacant.
And besides, Tor was missing the Gift of Ra he’d gotten from Istara, which had faded almost completely over the twenty-odd years since her death. For a while now he’d been discouraging challengers with his intimidating history and menacing stares, but eventually, if he didn’t get back the Gift of Ra or something like it—and there wasn’t anything like it—someone would challenge him for the throne, and they might very well win.
In short, the situation was a no-brainer: get the Queen. The challenge was how to make the girl cooperate. Encouraging Simone to befriend her, keep track of her location, and stay with her as much as possible had given them a solid start, but what they really needed was to get the young Amiti Queen under their roof—and totally obedient to Tor’s will.
It was Theores who eventually came up with a workable plan. With Tor’s approval, she’d carefully chosen a Sekhmi and given her information about how to find Arianna. She and her pride would abduct the Amiti Queen and keep her as bloodstock for up to two months. At that point Tor would “rescue” her from her unbearable existence, and the pride that abducted her would be eliminated. The Royal pride would welcome the young Queen into their family with open arms, making her feel loved and cherished. She’d grow attached to them, see them as her primary family. And most importantly, she’d fall in love with Tor. She’d be his puppet, and he’d hold the strings.
Vampires would never have fallen for that kind of smoke and mirrors, but Amiti—especially the young ones—were soft, loving, and submissive by nature, dwelling entirely in their hearts. Ignoring common sense, they put their loved ones above everything and everybody else. It would be impossible for Arianna to do anything that harmed the one she loved or anyone else in her new family. She’d keep them safe at all costs, and that would make her the vampires’ guarantee against any further action by the Keepers.
Unfortunately, the Sekhmi pride had not proven compliant. No one knew exactly what had happened—Simone had been tight-lipped about the incident—but according to Antar, they had kidnapped his daughter along with Arianna, and Simone’s throat had been torn and drunk from, the experience nearly killing her. As if that hadn’t been bad enough, Tor had to assume that the injury had caused the bloodlust that led Simone to kill the human, so this pride was also responsible for his daughter’s current difficulties.
He would personally kill all of them with his bare hands.
Theores was back. He nodded at her and she moved the laptop into position on his desk. “Elora,” she reminded him as she opened the laptop and established the connection.
The female—Elora—appeared on the screen. She smiled eagerly at Tor, gushing some my liege and so pleased to be talking with you bullshit. Tor didn’t smile back or acknowledge what she’d said..
“Elora. I must confess I am gravely disappointed. We gave you a great deal of responsibility, and so far you have failed to meet expectations. How is it, exactly, that my daughter was almost killed?”
Elora blushed and her jaw clenched in what Tor read as embarrassment. “I apologize for the mishap. As agreed, I brought my pride to Anavilhanas, and we found a way to intercept Arianna. Regrettably, the princess was with her. I assumed that we would leave your daughter, but Khay, our pride’s leader, had his own agenda and would not be talked out of it. He attempted to perform the Shay-Nefer ceremony with her, intending to steal your daughter’s life-force so that you wouldn’t be able to kill him. Fortunately, Khay was ignorant as to how Shay-Nefer works and the ritual was not completed, so there is no danger for Simone. I apologize once again, Your Majesty.”
New plan: he would still kill all of them with his bare hands, but he was going to slowly shred this Khay fucker piece by piece, burning each piece as he went.
He willed his face to remain placid. “Enough about that. How is Arianna faring?”
“She is struggling. She is panicked, frightened, depressed, and demoralized.”
“Good. But given your questionable record thus far, what assurances can you give us that we won’t see more of this inability to meet out terms, that this Amiti female will be alive in two months?”
Now she really looked uncomfortable. “Khay thinks he already got what he wanted, my liege, and though he can be reckless, I don’t expect him to do anything that would threaten the Amiti. She’s also currently our only bloodstock, and her blood is excellent quality. That makes her worth keeping alive.”
He exchanged a look with Theores. “Very well, then. Continue according to the plan.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. But you need to guarantee my safety. If my pride finds out about my deception, they’ll kill me!”
You’ll die anyway, thought Tor, while Theores smoothly lied: “Once this is over, we’ll take good care of you, as promised. You need not fear retaliation from your pride. If I were you, I’d be more concerned about what you have to fear from us if you’re unable to turn over a live Amiti at the end of this period. You may treat her as you would any bloodstock—but I don’t need to remind you of the consequences if you don’t ensure that she stays alive. Good luck.”
Theores pushed a remote control button and disconnected, then turned to Tor. “You see, my friend, you’ll be a prince from a fairy tale, a knight in shining armor who rescues the poor
imprisoned queen from the dungeon. You will be irresistible to her. Trust me, she’ll be putty in your hands—or I know nothing about the female psyche.”
Chapter 21
Arianna was walking around her dreary cell, measuring it with her steps. She couldn’t afford another panic attack; she needed to evaluate her situation calmly and clearly, to review her options—assuming she had any. No. Don’t think that way. There’s always something. You just have to think of it. She’d been depleted of her powers and cut off from the outside world. It seemed that her future was to serve as bloodstock for these damn vampires. Not an appealing thought. She must act. There must be a way out. There has to be.
Over the next few days, Arianna tried everything she could think of. First she focused on her blood-bond, trying to connect to Simone, but somehow couldn’t sense her. Maybe because she was too anxious and the blood-bond required concentration. Or was that a power that was depleted along with the others? Everything her father had tried to teach her had seemed so abstract then and was so urgent now, but her brain was foggy and his memory was so far away. Don’t worry about it. Just keep going; try something else now and try the blood-bond again later.
So she attacked the Sekhmi with her bare hands when they came to deliver her food. She threw food at them. She bargained, pleaded, yelled and screamed. She threatened to burn them to ashes as soon as she regained her powers. It was all in vain. To the Sekhmi, her efforts were as pathetic as those of a bug trying to escape from a glass jar.
She passionately appealed to Hathor, begging for the Goddess’s help, even though she knew, as her father had taught her, that the Gods never interfere directly in the lives of their creations. Instead, like good parents, they allowed their children to find their own solutions, to escape on their own from the traps they fell into. Supposedly they believed it was important to their children’s evolution. But how can I evolve when I’m wasting away in this cell? she cried out to the Goddess. Of course, no one answered her.
