Spring's Vampires. Blooms of Blood: A Reverse Harem Fantasy Romance (Soulmates of Seasons Book 4)

by Eva Brandt

  Still, I refused to let the god win this argument. “If you’re trying to make us doubt what we feel for Eranthe, you might as well give up now. It won’t work. I don’t have to be married to her for centuries to know I love her.”

  “Love?” Helios shot me a look of disbelief. “Don’t make me laugh. What you feel for Eranthe is lust and nothing more.”

  “Father, stop,” Cassia said. “You’re well aware that isn’t true. Besides, not everything in a relationship is about how much it lasts. Your bond with Mother only survived because she accepted your circumstances. But you were never there for us or even for her. You probably had other lovers before Mother left Chronikos to go with you. Tell me... Between that and the loyalty my soulmates and Eranthe’s have shown, which one is superior?”

  If we got out of this mess alive, I’d get Cassia a nice gift. The expression on Helios’s face was priceless. He obviously hadn’t expected being called out on his hypocrisy, and by his oldest daughter, no less.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said after a long pause. “Maybe the vampires do have a connection with Eranthe, but the fact remains that two of her can’t exist at the same time. A future that is no longer valid isn’t relevant at all.”

  He was talking about Eiar. Eranthe’s refusal to take up the role of the Grand Lich had invalidated Eiar’s existence. Somehow, Eranthe had kept Eiar from fading away like she should have, but Helios wasn’t happy with that choice.

  “Once, I agreed with you,” Eiar said. “I would’ve accepted going to my death, to make sure the world was safe, that the Axis Mundi wasn’t endangered. But I realize now it was foolish of me to just take you up on your words, when I know you and Mother have only ever cared about yourselves. I don’t have to be Eranthe’s future. I can be my own person, and that is what I will do.”

  The latter three words were punctuated by individual bursts of magic, all of which went straight into Fufluns. The god gasped into Eranthe’s mouth, once, twice, three times. Eranthe’s eyes opened and Fufluns slumped against her, out cold.

  He wasn’t dead yet, but the sound of his pulse was getting fainter by the second. I wondered if I could get Eranthe and Eiar to let me end his miserable life.

  “No,” Helios murmured. “What have you done?”

  “What I had to, Father,” Eranthe replied, pushing the unconscious god off her. “Stop being so dramatic. There are plenty of underworld and nature gods where he came from. His loss won’t be missed.”

  “That’s not really your decision to make, Eranthe.” The bright glow of Helios’s aura diminished, and all of a sudden, he looked very tired. “Believe it or not, I only ever wanted to protect you and your sisters from powers you cannot handle. But the choice you’ve made today won’t be without its consequences. I won’t be able to help you, not anymore.”

  “Then we’ll just have to help ourselves, like we always have,” Eranthe shot back. “I’m not willing to trade Eiar’s life for your vague promises.”

  “That’s admirable of you, but the risk you’ve taken will still be for naught,” Helios replied sadly. “She can’t survive, Eranthe. No matter what you do, no matter how much power you claim from others, she can’t live in a reality that isn’t compatible with what she was supposed to be.”

  As he spoke, wisps of smoke surrounded Eiar, and her figure began to blur once again. She smiled, not looking very intimidated. “I’m not afraid of you, sun god. We don’t have to live in your reality. We can make our own.”

  And they did.

  Thirteen

  Entwined Souls

  Eranthe

  What was a soul?

  This was a question people had asked themselves from times immemorial. Most believed that a soul represented the essence of each individual, the unchangeable, unbreakable core hidden within each and every person. It was the only explanation for the existence of soulmates.

  But some people didn’t agree with that definition. Among the species who didn’t have soulmates, there was a natural belief that a soul wasn’t an innate thing, that it was created and changed with every experience.

  Before I’d met my vampires, I hadn’t given the issue much thought. In hindsight, that had been a mistake, since I should have at least looked into it when Cassia had asked me to create another incarnation of the month of February.

  Maybe, on some level, I’d always been afraid of what I’d find. I couldn’t be afraid any longer. I knew the truth now. Chronikos had showed me the secret.

  Yes, a soul changed with time, and time created souls. That naturally meant that my future self and I were separate people.

  She was what I could be, if I chose death magic over the powers of the avatar of spring. It was ironic, really, since she wasn’t my vampires’ soulmate.

  Then again, Cezar, Baltasar, and Adrian were all like me, caught between life and death, undead, but ultimately, not all the way. Emperor Octavian, on the other hand, was as vampiric as anyone could be. Married or not, he was a good match for Eiar.

  That aside, we still had a big problem. My father had been right when he’d told me that Eiar couldn’t endure if I rejected her. But we were in Chronikos—or at least, close to it—and where there was a will, there was a way.

  As Eiar began to fade, I got up and turned toward Cassia. The spell holding my other self anchored to Chronikos and to me would soon run its course, at which point she’d be killed. I would not allow that. “Cassia, would you mind making a hole in the ice?” I asked my sister. “It doesn’t have to be big, just enough to give me access to the water.”

  Cassia shot me an inscrutable look, but didn’t question me. She pressed her foot to the ice, willing it to obey her commands. The iceberg she had created neatly started to crack, a tiny hole appearing right next to me.

  Smiling, I lowered my hand over the fissure. I could already sense the magic of the ocean, hidden deep within me, under thick layers of ice.

  “Do you know, Father, what the most magical substance in the world is?” I asked idly. “It’s water. It means life and rebirth. It guides us through and into death. It is the essence of what we are, as people.

  “I received my powers through a river of the dead. It stands to reason that my future self would get a gift from a sea of the living.”

  I shared a look with Eiar and she nodded. “I’m ready when you are,” she said.

  That wasn’t saying much. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I was ready for what I intended to do. But I’d do it anyway, because I had no other option.

  I reached for the magic bubbling beneath me, the power of The Great Ocean, so overwhelming and alive. Ice was inert, so it didn’t have the same properties as water in its regular, fluid state. Without Cassia, I would’ve had a little more trouble going through with my plan, but my sister’s aid had eliminated that problem.

  The particles of water came to my call as easily as plants usually did. I was no naiad, but I didn’t need to be. The magic of Chronikos sang through me, and it was more than enough.

  At first, it didn’t hurt. The water surrounded Eiar like a wet mist, keeping her from dissipating.

  It was only a temporary effect, and just the first step of my plan. Gritting my teeth, I closed my eyes and turned my body into a conduit for the power I’d just stolen from Fufluns.

  All of a sudden, I could see the connection between Eiar and me so clearly. While I’d wanted revenge on Fufluns, our little trap had never been about that. I simply needed his abilities to make sure both Eiar and I would have a future.

  In the end, severing the thread binding me to my older self was just like cutting a rose—easy, fast, but so very painful. The moment I used Fufluns’s power to break my connection to Eiar, agony erupted through me, and I screamed as the unleashed magic threatened to tear me apart limb from limb.

  There were so many variables I’d added to the equation of our desperate plan. February’s crystal had been a risk and the essence inside it was alien to me. Fufluns was a god and even if Eiar and I had man
aged to take him by surprise and overwhelm him, his power was still rebelling against us.

  I could feel my core slowly coming to pieces under the onslaught of the magic I couldn’t fully control. But I was not alone. Just when I thought I’d bitten off more than I could chew, the familiar presence of my soulmates drifted into my mind.

  The jagged wound I had caused myself began to heal under their gentle, but determined touch. The same icy, but warm energy drifted into me, chasing away my pain, anchoring me and clearing my head.

  After that, it didn’t take me long to drag my battered mind back into the real world. With a groan, I cracked my eyes open, only to find myself in Adrian’s embrace. Cezar and Baltasar were by our side, and their complexions were paler than usual.

  “Eranthe, are you all right?” Adrian asked softly.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” Thanks to them, because otherwise, I might have taken a far heavier blow. “You?”

  “We’re not the ones who just went through a crazy soul-splitting ritual, petal,” Cezar said, his eyes still wild with lingering fear. “Don’t do that again. Ever.”

  “I can safely say we don’t intend to repeat the process,” Eiar replied in my stead. I stole a look past Baltasar’s shoulder and saw her getting up with Octavian’s assistance. Like me, she seemed a little shaky and shocked, but otherwise unharmed. “Ugh. That was utterly foul. I’ll stick to death magic any day of the week.”

  “Of course you will.” I laughed at her disgruntled tone. “You’re the Grand Lich. That’s your job.”

  Silence fell over the room as everyone stared at us in disbelief. No one seemed to know what to make of what had just happened.

  I empathized, since I wasn’t sure how I felt about the whole episode either. I had no intention of saying that out loud.

  In the end, it was Cassia’s ryū soulmate, Raijin, who took the initiative and approached me. “I’m sorry, but what did you just do?” he asked. “I’m confused.”

  “It’s not that complicated,” I answered, shrugging. “I simply used Fufluns’s magic to solidify Eiar and me as separate individuals. We sort of had to sacrifice his soul for it to work, more or less, but he’ll be fine. Eventually.”

  In about a millennium. Maybe. With help and a lot of luck. I had no idea and I couldn’t be bothered to give a damn about his fate.

  Raijin’s eyes widened. I hoped dragons didn’t have some kind of weird rule about soul magic. I didn’t want to have a fight with my sister’s soulmates over principles.

  I needn’t have worried. After that brief moment of shock, Raijin relaxed and the vibration of his agitated magic faded into the background. Cassia needed a little more reassurance.

  “Soul magic,” she said softly. “Did it work?”

  I nodded, not surprised that she wanted to question me about what I’d done. “Yes.”

  “Are you safe?”

  “Yes.”

  “Neither of you are going to die.”

  “No.”

  “Then that’s all I needed to know.” Cassia smiled, and the warmth and relief in her eyes softened the sharp angles of her pale face. “I’m not happy with you keeping such secrets, but I’m sure you did what you thought was best. We’ll discuss everything else at a later date, when we don’t have... undesirable company.”

  The latter comment was obviously addressed to our father. She shot him an ugly look, still unhappy with all the secrets he had kept and the way he’d planned on using me and Eiar.

  I expected him to protest or to continue arguing with us. He said nothing. Instead, he waved a hand in Fufluns’s general direction. The unconscious god vanished in a burst of flames, making Eiar and Octavian—who were still nearby—recoil.

  Helios paid their reaction no heed. He looked between Cassia and me, his aristocratic features twisting into a mask of grief.

  A few long moments passed while the three of us just stared at one another. A part of me wanted to point out that he’d been wrong, that I had managed to ensure Eiar’s survival. Something about his demeanor kept me from doing so.

  “Farewell,” he finally said. “May time guide your steps onto the right path, the way I could not. Good luck.”

  Just like that, Helios vanished, leaving behind only melted ice, regrets, and more questions. I wondered if I’d ever see him again.

  * * *

  Eiar

  After everything that had happened, the idea of returning to the conference felt off and anticlimactic. I was still covered in blood and wet to the bone. I’d come incredibly close to dying a horrible death, to fading away into nothing.

  I wanted to return to my quarters, collapse in my bed, and sleep for a week, preferably in Octavian’s arms. At this point, I couldn’t be bothered to care that he was married. Like I had hoped, I’d gotten a new chance, and I fully intended to make use of it.

  But duty didn’t wait, so instead of following my selfish desires, I sat down at the table Cassia had provided, determined to get the formalities out of the way. “Let’s just forget about Helios for now,” I said, “and focus on getting this truce in place.”

  “Of course,” Octavian replied. “The Voievodat is willing to pay penalties and assist in the reconstruction of Chronikos in whatever way you see fit. At your discretion, we might be able to bring back some of the dead, but only those who perished recently. I can offer you my best necromancers, but the results may vary.”

  That was the understatement of the century. Necromancy was most efficient when bringing back people who had already been undead or had a connection to dark magic. I had no idea how it would affect an inhabitant of Tis Ánoixis, but I suspected it wouldn’t be in a good way. Still, I appreciated Octavian’s cooperation and his change in attitude.

  So did Eranthe. “We thank you for your offer,” she told him. “We will consider it. In the meantime, we request the retreat of all troops, as well as reports on the forces you yourself set in Tis Ánoixis. I have a group of lamiae in my dungeons who attacked innocent civilians. There is only so long I can keep them there.”

  Ah, yes. Mormo. To this day, I was surprised at what she’d done. As a demonic creature aligned to water, she’d known we would be able to use the magic of The Great Ocean to solidify my body. Her suggestion, while vague, had been part of the reason why our plan had been successful. I still wasn’t sure why she’d helped, when I knew for a fact that she hated me.

  Either way, we owed her a debt and I wouldn’t forget that. “Mormo and her sisters were soldiers and nothing more,” I said.

  Octavian understood what I intended and supported me. “I wasn’t the one who instructed her to attack the unicorns, but I won’t dismiss my part of the blame in the matter. It was my magic who allowed her and every other undead to enter Chronikos. The responsibility is mine and no other’s.”

  Cassia and Eranthe shared a look. “Your Majesty, I think we both know the reasons behind this war, and they’re no longer relevant,” Cassia offered. “Even so, judging by our father’s sudden departure, it would be safe to say that this isn’t over yet.”

  “I don’t know what he was thinking when he left, but he genuinely believed that I was jeopardizing the Axis Mundi by casting the separation spell between me and Eiar,” Eranthe added. “And even if it worked and nothing went amiss, the fact remains that we basically killed a god. There will be consequences.”

  “I can see your point. Perhaps a garrison of undead troops would be of some assistance. We will be able to provide backup in a more direct way. And you do have plenty of people who could monitor it.”

  Cezar got the underlining message loud and clear. “It would be my honor to act as an ambassador of The Voievodat in Tis Ánoixis, but only if my queen wishes it to be so. My loyalty is first and foremost to her.”

  “And I would expect no less,” Octavian replied. “I don’t think there will be any conflict of interest in this. The gods might resent you all for attacking Fufluns, but they also unavoidably resent Eiar. I have no desire to let them
get to her.”

  If we had been alone, I’d have thrown something at him and pointed out I could take care of myself. I didn’t. “I propose the following. I will stay for a little while longer to ensure the smooth transition and creation of the garrison. In the meantime, the rest of the troops from The Voievodat can return home.”

  By my side, Octavian tensed. The idea of leaving me here didn’t appeal. I secretly agreed, but this was for the best, and hopefully, it wouldn’t take long to wrap up all loose ends.

  I might not be as close to Chronikos as Eranthe was, but this place had still been my home once, and I wanted to fix what I’d broken with my machinations. Only after that would I be able to move on and start over.

  Eranthe’s eyes glinted with understanding and she easily agreed. “That is satisfactory,” she said. “We’ll release our captives in your custody, as a sign of good faith. They’ll be banished from Chronikos, with no right to ever return.”

  In the big picture, it might not have seemed like much of a punishment, but given how unlikely it was that Baltasar would ever leave, it meant Mormo and her sisters would be denied access to him for life. As strained and odd as the relationship between the lamia and Baltasar might be, Mormo would’ve probably preferred dismemberment to losing her son.

  I’d have to see how I could use this to wriggle out some more answers from her. But that was for later.

  After we made a few more arrangements, we decided of common accord to adjourn the meeting. We still had plenty of details to iron out and the actual treaty to write down, but such things couldn’t be agreed upon in a single day. We’d just gone through a very traumatic experience, and every second that passed weighed heavily on me.

  I wanted to return to the frigate, before I collapsed right then and there. As determined as I might’ve been, I needed a break and I needed to process.

  It was with much relief that we all headed out of the building, back toward the waiting ships. Our escorts were still outside and seemed completely unaware of what had happened. That was pretty alarming. I’d need to check on the reasons behind this lapse. If a war with the gods was coming, we couldn’t afford to be incompetent.