The Kingdom Journals Complete Series Box Set

by Tricia Copeland

  “No, child.” Sabine grips my shoulders. “You must be with him in the end.”

  She holds me until the fire dies. It’s midnight, and a full moon crests the horizon, tracing low across the sky. I think of my home in France, and my family’s solstice celebration. Wiping the blood from my cheeks, I look at Sabine. “You will celebrate the solstice soon. I don’t want to bring sadness to your people. I will go now.”

  She takes my hand. “For all, there is a time. Come eat with us. You look like you haven’t rested in weeks.”

  I feed off the deer Alexander catches to honor the solstice. Sabine leads me to a stream and washes my hair and skin. She dresses me in clean linens, and I fall into a restful slumber on a bed of fresh hay.

  When I rise in the morning, the pyre has been taken away. Alec is gone, and I feel his loss like a blanket shrouding my view of the world. But I know I must let go and move on. I sit with Sabine and Alexander, and then the elders of the tribe, hearing all their stories, history of days, years, centuries gone past. They are a young southerly tribe of the north with the oldest member only reaching three hundred. That day and into the night, I listen and learn their stories and tales from their parents. Resting the next morning, I pack my things and Alec’s stake. His mother gives me a gift for his sister Nona, a large blanket, which she knitted through the night while we talked.

  Armed with the blanket and the stake, I head east. It is only half a day until I sniff out the boundary for the next tribe. I stand motionless with Nona’s throw atop my forearm, waiting to be greeted. With a swoosh of air, a large male, as big as Alec, appears before me.

  “These lands are spoken for.”

  “I have a gift for Nona from her parents.” I hold out the blanket, carrying the symbol of Alexander’s tribe.

  “I will escort you.”

  As we approach the houses, I see a group of males greet us. Shoulder to shoulder, the warriors make a line between us and the village.

  “She is but a youngling,” my escort calls to them.

  They relax their position, and the man beside me turns to me. “What’s your name?”

  Nervous, my mouth is dry, and I need to swallow before I can speak. “Anne. Anne Scott.”

  “Nona is this way.” He points to a cabin, and the group of men disperse. “You’re not of this land. Why have you come to the northern tribes? How do you know Nona’s family?”

  Sabine and Alexander coached me on my answer, and I repeat it exactly as they instructed. “I lost my family in France. I’m looking for my people. Nona’s family gave me rest.”

  We reach the cabin, and my escort raps on the door. A male equaling his size greets us.

  I hold the blanket out. “I have a gift for Nona.”

  Quicker than I can register his movements, the male grabs the blanket and flings it in the fire.

  “Grimm, what is this?” A woman, I’m guessing she is Nona, speeds to the flames.

  Grimm blocks her path, and she slams into his chest. “A gift from your traitor family. They are dead to you. Never to be spoken of again.”

  She beats on his bare breast. “You had no right.”

  Grimm stands steady, allowing her to pummel him for a few seconds. Then, he catches her wrists, locking them together with his fingers.

  Dropping her hands, Grimm approaches us. “Thank you for bringing the visitor to us. We shall give her shelter for a time.”

  My escort bows to Grimm and backs out the door. Grimm faces Nona. “I’m sorry it must be this way. Talk with our visitor, see what news she has from your family. Make it fast, she must be gone by sundown.”

  He whisks past me and out the door. Searching the area for other vampires, my eyes rest on the woman. “You are Nona?”

  “Yes, come, would you like some water?” She retrieves a metal cup from a table and dips it in a wooden bucket.

  I shed my coat and leave it beside the door. Hugging my bag to my chest, I approach her. I sit beside her, taking the cup she offers. “I’m sorry about the blanket. Your mother made it last night for you. I didn’t realize it would be destroyed.”

  Nona stares into the flames. “Mother would have known Grimm would not let me keep it. You’re not of the northern tribes. How do you know my parents?”

  Tears form in my eyes as I picture his face. “I knew Alec. We were engaged to be married.”

  “Alec?” Her voice is barely a whisper on the air. She speeds around the room, pressing her ear to the log walls and sniffing the air. She jumps in front of me, leaning in so we are inches apart. “No one is nearby. We may speak, but only in secret. They will kill anyone known to associate with a traitor.”

  “Am I marked?” I match her hushed tone, wondering if perhaps it is better for my life to be cut short. How long can I live with this hole in my heart? Alec was my everything. Nine hundred years of a life without him stretch out in my psyche like a dark abyss. Still, I have this yearning in my soul, for peace, for justice.

  “What did you tell them outside?”

  “That I was looking for my family and yours gave me rest.”

  “That will suffice.” She lowers herself to the wood floor in front of me and speaks into my ear. “Tell me of my family and Alec? He was your betrothed?” Her eyes lock on mine.

  Steeling my emotions, I relate how we met, courted, and were engaged, and then how I found him in the barn, a stake piercing his heart. I open my bag and show her the wooden dagger etched with the emblem of the tribe to the north.

  She grasps my hands. “You can’t stay. It’s good to hear of my family. My heart breaks for my brother’s ending and your loss. But rumors may spread if we welcome you in our home. I imagine some have already seen the crest of my family on the blanket you brought.”

  “My presence brings you trouble. I’m sorry. Your mother is desperate for news of you.” I stand and cross to where my coat lies near the door.

  “Will you return to her? Tell her I am well?” Nona follows me.

  “I can’t. This burden is heavy on my chest. I must find the stake’s owner, or I’ll never know peace.” Sliding my arms in my covering, I hike the bag to my back.

  “You won’t find solace from them. You witnessed the reaction of my tribesmen. The northern clan is even more militant than ours.”

  “We shouldn’t be killing each other.”

  “Then the goddess’s blessings on you. I’m sorry we could not live as sisters.” Her arms wrap around me, and she pulls me into her chest.

  “We are family in my mind,” I whisper into her hair. Inhaling her scent, so close to that of Alec’s, bloody tears form in my eyes.

  “So be it.” She releases me.

  Even though summer reigns, this far north, inland from the coast, the ground stays cold. I don’t dare hunt and am grateful for the deer I feasted on with Alec’s parents. I pack snow in a pouch Sabine gave me, and it melts against my skin so that I may be sustained.

  By day I walk north, and at night, I hide in the trees. It’s two days before I reach the northern tribe’s border. The line is marked with the scent of others, familiar yet distant in origin. The hairs on my skin stand on end as I approach. My body tenses, and I wait to be greeted. Half a day I sit on the border, every sense piqued, every muscle ready for action. The sun sets, and still I wait, but no one comes. The next morning, I follow the acrid yet enticing scent of blood in the air, faint on the wind. Male musk, light at first, intensifies as I trace north, following the smell of the tribe. Muscles twitching, I see dwellings above the tree line, two peaks away.

  I climb one crest, descend into a valley, and then ascend the next mountain. Hiking through the trees, I reach the open tundra. In a day and half, I draw near their village. The smell of fresh blood and meat hang heavy in the air, and my mouth waters with desire. My stomach churns under my ribs. Sweat of the tribe’s people coats the air, and I hear their heartbeats, slowed for rest. Filling my water container with snow, I gather moss, creating insulation between me and the cold grou
nd. I sit on the pile, holding the water pouch to my torso, sipping from it as the snow melts. The minutes tick by, and there is no movement.

  As the sun dips to the horizon, I hear stirrings from inside the structures, beings rising and eating. My stomach gurgles. A large male vampire exits a round structure in the center of the village. Clutching my bag to my stomach, I stand. The vampire is large, and the heavy stench of musk emanates from his body, growing stronger with his approach. Every cell of my being tingles with fear. I want to run, but the move would be a sure death sentence. I raise my chin as he closes the distance between us.

  “You have something for me, Anne, betrothed of Alec, the traitor?”

  “How do you know who I am?” I hug the bag to my chest, realizing this is the last piece of Alec I have.

  “There is another female youngling brave enough to enter our boundaries? I know everything that happens on my land. Come, you must be hungry.”

  Following him through the village, my ears listen for any change in routine, my eyes dart between the buildings, and the soles of my feet stay alert to vibrations from the ground. Sensing no sign of hostility, I relax my shoulders. Still, I clasp the stake tight. Now that the moment is upon me, I’m not sure I’m brave enough to challenge this vampire.

  He walks with fluid motion in front of me, as if floating. Tiny lines around his eyes indicate he may be quite old. At the center round structure, my escort pushes the wooden door open and waits for me to enter. Taking a deep breath, I cross the threshold. Inside the room is dark save for light from a center fire. The smell of blood hits my nose, and I jerk my head to the source. A large buck hangs on one side of the room, blood from his neck draining into a metal bowl. Mouth watering, I force myself to focus on my mission.

  “Come.” The old vampire, I guess he must be the leader, motions to the fire circle. “Sit and warm yourself.”

  As I move towards the center of the structure, a new scent hangs in the air, one I haven’t smelled for fifteen years. The aroma of honey, straw, wine, and flowers rolls off a male figure seated by the wall, now illuminated by the flames.

  The edges of the witch’s mouth turn up. “You’re the first to bring back one of my weapons.”

  “Yes.” The leader motions between me and the witch. “My warrior will be intrigued as well. It was a rare case. I trust you appreciated that we left his heart. That is not our custom.”

  Bile rises in my throat, and I want to spit into their eyes. “The stake is spelled? That is how Alec was overpowered?”

  My bag begins to vibrate, and I cross my arms over it.

  “The stake is mine.” The witch aims his fingers at me.

  The fabric in my grasp heats, and my arms begin to sear with pain. I fear the pack will ignite and drop it on the dirt floor. The stake rolls from the bag and flies into the witch’s palm. He studies the carved instrument. “Thank you, dear.”

  Anger rises in my chest. “You use a witch to kill fellow vampires?”

  “I can’t risk losing my warriors. I’m afraid Alec made the mistake of settling for too long. I assume because of you.” His eyes trace from my feet to my face.

  Disgust and horror build in my stomach. “It’s not my fault Alec is dead. You’re the one killing your own people, enslaving witches to keep you in power.”

  In a breath, he is an inch from me. The stench of his acrid breath wafts over my nose. “You’re not one of us. You don’t know hunger for survival. I’m sure you are very learned. Have you not heard of the tigers in Asia or birds of prey that defend their hunting grounds? And what of your family, do they not defend their own?”

  I straighten my spine. “You killed my family. Alec was my tribe.”

  “What of your parents?” The leader circles me.

  Chin up, I whisper the words. “Killed by witches.”

  “See.” He shoots across the room, snatches the stake from the witch, and holds it over his chest. “You have every reason to hate their kind. They took your parents and mate.”

  “You killed my mate.”

  “Alec made his own destiny.”

  “He was eleven.”

  Running a finger along the smooth wood of the stake, the leader saunters towards me. “He was old enough to hunt. He knew the rules.”

  “My parents wanted more than survival. They wanted peace and prosperity.”

  “And you have come to enlighten me on the error of our ways?” His breath is hot on my forehead.

  “No.” I let my chin drop to my chest. “I came to learn. I am but a youngling, left too soon by her parents, raised amongst humans. I’ve known no tribe. I yearn to know my people.”

  “You surprise me, youngling. Sit, eat, and you shall learn.” He steps back and offers me his arm. “I am Erik from Theodoric.”

  I grip his forearm and raise my eyes to meet his. “I am Anne Scott of Isis and Ammon.”

  “Egyptian, I presume, from the southern tribes. But Scott, where is that name from?” He motions to a bed of fir needles on the floor.

  “Elizabeth Scott raised me as her own. Her people come from Ireland via Scotland.” Lowering myself to the branches, I scan the rest of the space. My eyes land on the buck again.

  “Please make yourself at home. What’s mine is yours.” Erik motions to the animal.

  Switching the bag to my back, I hop to the bowl. I dip a metal cup in the warm red liquid and gulp it down, sucking the cup empty. Licking the last drop from the bottom, my eyes cut to Erik.

  “Have your fill, you look as though you may blow away.”

  “Thank you.” I refill the cup. Feeling satiated at last, I shed my outer layer and rest on the needles again. I swipe my sleeve across my lips, cleaning the blood from my face.

  Erik sits in front of me. “So, you want to know of our people. I’m eight hundred years old and come from a long line of northern vampires. But we did not always live in the north. As the populations of humans grow, we travel farther and farther to protect our secrets.”

  “But if you don’t kill humans, why live so far away, like this?” My eyes cut to the dirt floor, the mud walls, and roof made of intertwined branches and needles.

  “We must look like barbarians to you. It’s not that we don’t crave human blood, but we stay away so we won’t be discovered. I am interested. How did you resist feeding? Younglings are prone to such hunger.”

  “I was taught from a young age. I hunted animals often.”

  Erik nods his head. “I’ll tell you all that I know, but my knowledge only extends back to the great flood when the witches turned on us and our numbers were almost decimated.”

  “What do you mean the witches turned on us?”

  “What do you know, youngling?”

  “Nothing. I know of human histories, the Christian Bible.”

  Erik shakes his head. “Out histories are passed down through the generations. It is written that the witches and vampires were there from the beginning as humans were. We do not know if humans or vampires came first, but witches were not there in the beginning. Having superior strength, speed, and longevity, our numbers increased faster than the humans. We were uncivilized and thought nothing of taking human lives. They were just another animal on the landscape. God, seeing his children preyed on by our species, created a balance, the witches.”

  One of his eyebrows cocks up. “He instructed the Arch Angels to sire children, creating the witch line. Like us, they enjoy longevity, but they also were given magical powers to overcome us. The vampire numbers were large, and we learned how to protect ourselves, even overpower and kill witches. People began to be suspicious of witchcraft. To protect their species, the witches decided to forge a truce with the vampires. As the human population grew and formed civilizations, the witches and vampires worked together to keep each other’s secrets. For reasons we do not know,” Erik’s eyes cut to the witch sitting against the wall, “the witches decided to end the truce. They created the great flood that not only decimated human populations but kil
led thousands of vampires. Our lines have been at war since.”

  The witch rises and moves towards us, his motions, like that of Erik, as smooth as glass. “Your people mesmerized and lured the humans, turning them against God with your pagan ways.”

  Erik’s mouth contorts as he faces the witch. “You hypocrite. You take power from the earth, the moon, and the seasons, and yet you rebuke them in the same breath. We honor our Mother Earth.”

  The witch looms over Erik. “You soulless creatures are damned from the day you are born.”

  Erik rises, and the two stand before each other. “We return to our Mother. What of you, do you return to your maker?”

  The witch’s eyes hold Erik’s stare. “One day we will live forever.”

  I look between them, seeing two men, centuries old, arguing over souls, eternal life, wondering if my heart will ever know peace. The witch squats before me, pulling me from my trance. I leap back to the door, ready to bolt out. If there is one thing Elizabeth taught me that I will forever adhere to, it is this: Never allow a witch to touch you.

  Erik laughs. “Smart girl. Amaud does have the gift of sight. He is quite useful to me in that way.”

  Hugging my bag to my chest, I wait and wonder whether Erik means to have the witch, Amaud, I guess he is called, read my thoughts. “Do you mean for him to touch me?”

  Chuckling, Erik lowers himself to the floor. “You’re not hard to read youngling. Your heart is broken by your mate’s death. You search for meaning, for belonging. Your passion for peace drives you. I could smell that the second you crossed our borders.”

  Amaud halts his approach and lifts his palm in the air. A hum emanates from his hand, filling the space between us. My eyes cut to Erik. “What is he doing?”

  “He doesn’t need to touch you to know you. It’s easier for him, but not required.” Erik shrugs and lifts a cup from the floor to his lips.

  “If I’m not welcome anymore, I will go.”