Cinder analyzed Meredith and Danek’s tattered wares, their sallow skin and tired eyes, and wrinkled up her nose. She was at least proud of her family’s presentation.
The court presiding in Romsdalen always took pride in how they appeared to others. How could anybody lead if they didn’t look like a leader? —it was lesson her mother had drilled into her from a very early age.
Cinder, Balder, and Dag dressed like gods—gold cuffs in their braids, bejeweled coils around their arms and fingers. Hunted hides of bears and wolves kept their backs warm those winter months. Appraising the Prices, she decided, despite the official sash Danek adorned, they looked like more like peasants than noblemen—robes torn and frayed at the hems, their leathers eroding.
Shameful.
“After I married Fallon Price, he became a man. Fit to help me preside over the Western European Magic Court. He changed so much from the brother you once knew, Danek. Shame you were not able to know the person he became before he died.”
“Aye.” Danek nodded and sat down in one of the iron chairs, folding his hands together under his chin. It was clear he hadn’t slept in weeks. “I wonder what my brother would say now.”
Cinder decided that Danek Price was the spitting image of his late younger brother. Same ruddy hair, same broad shoulders. Even their facial features were similar, save for the scar marring Danek across his eye from his forehead to his chin. He carried that pathetic mark like a war trophy. It wasn’t something to be proud of. It represented error. Mistakes. A clean battle should have resulted in no scars. An unscathed body was a true badge of honor. Good training should result in no error on the war field.
“It’s not what Fallon would say,” grumbled Balder. “It’s what Vladislov would say. He’s the only one who’d know how to clean up this mess.”
“Pity. Vladislov was a great ally. I’m going to miss the old geezer,” said Cinder. “But I told him…” She illustrated her point with the wag of her finger. “I told him oligarchies are messy. Monarchies are much more efficient. Either way, he could’ve picked a better heir, I’d say.”
Meredith piped up with, “Vladislov didn’t pick Aiden—”
“Shut up. You’re lucky I even allowed you to take sanctuary here,” Cinder sniffed. Examining her perfectly rounded nails, she went on with, “Caught me on a decent day, I suppose. If it had been a worse morning, I might have thrown you to the wolves myself. Even the Magical Congress of North America is laughing at the lot of you, and with the disasters they have on their hands, that’s really saying something.”
Danek glared at the floor like he’d swallowed a slug.
To the left of the hospital wing’s sitting area, a door abruptly crashed outward, jolting the whole group to their feet. The sound would have been thunderous anywhere, but because the surrounding corridor was mostly marble, it resounded like an explosion.
A horrified-looking nurse skidded to a stop before the entry, her hands outstretched at her sides, her mouth gaping. “Master Price is…” Her stormy gaze darted from face to face. Cinder recognized the apology in her horrified expression and felt her stomach lurch. “…gone.”
Meredith released harrowing wails loud enough to crack Cinder’s skull, throwing herself into Danek’s chest. “MY BABY!” she sobbed.
“No! Please, my apologies. Not gone. Your ladyship,” she said to Cinder. “He’s alive…we think…but….”
“What does that mean, you think?”
The nurse turned to glance behind herself with her hands pressed to her mouth. Two more maids from the medical wing peeked out into the corridor. They both shook their heads dumbly.
“He’s not in his bed. He’s…gone,” the first repeated the words like she didn’t understand what they meant, her fingers sprawled at her sides like she’d dropped something.
Cinder’s intestines twisted in knots.
Aiden wasn’t supposed to be alright. He shouldn’t have lived. Not when she wanted to take Vladislov’s district for her own. Where in hell could the little scoundrel have gone? How could he have escaped the castle without a single person seeing him?
“But,” the nurse continued, and her grizzly tone made Cinder’s heart lift. “His condition is still very critical. He’s weak…he must be. There’s no way he can get very far. His blood has been contaminated either by consumption of Dark blood, or perhaps one open wound to another—”
“Are you saying he might be lying dead somewhere else?” Meredith’s groan was agonized and broken. “Out…there?” She pointed a bloodless finger out the window.
The nurse’s shoulders drooped and she shook her head. “I’m sorry. There is no way of knowing.”
“Either way, he must be found and dealt with.” Cinder instructed, throwing a look at her father and uncle. “He could be a potential threat.”
She produced a pair of leather gloves from where they’d been tucked into her copper belt and pulled them on.
Danek gasped and shoved his way from behind Balder and Dag.
“A threat? You must be joking! Only to the Dark sects, I am sure! My son would never attack a member of our party. Do not forget—”
Cinder unsheathed a dagger in a flash and held the point of it to Danek’s throat. He shut his mouth at once.
“I am superior to you,” she whispered carefully. “You will address me like you understand that. Just because I don’t have a pair of testicles between my legs doesn’t mean I won’t demand just as much respect from you as the Great Lord Vladislov did. The Light defers to me now. Got it?”
He gulped, his eyes watering. After a moment, he nodded in silence.
“Good.” Cinder put her blade away. “Not to worry. Aiden is family.” She suppressed a gag. “We will find him and assess the situation. If his illness is curable, and he will one day be fit to lead again, of course, he will reclaim his position. I respect Vladislov’s wishes above all else. By the order of Merlin.”
Though the words came out sweet, they tasted bitter on her tongue. She forced them out anyway. Of course, none of them were true.
“Oh! My boy! My baby boy!” Meredith sobbed again and Cinder’s fingers itched to give her a good smack.
“We’ve done all we can for him,” the nurse spoke again. “But Valek Ruzi—”
“DO NOT SAY HIS NAME!” howled Meredith, throwing her head back with her hands over her ears.
“This is all worse than I thought,” said Cinder. “We must find him. And the Vampire too. Every criminal who remains in hiding. Who will run your district?” Cinder cawed, though secretly, she reveled in this news. Perfect. “We have the Symposium coming up in a few short weeks. Someone must be there to represent the Central European Magic Regime!”
“Aiden will—”
“You heard what she said! Aiden is altered! Different! And he is on the run! Your son could have fangs in his mouth for all we know.” She shuddered. “Who knows what he could be capable of?” It was all she could do to stifle her glee.
“Vladislov chose him,” Meredith hissed furiously. “The throne is his birthright!”
“But that’s all up in flames now! You heard what they said.”
“Perhaps, I have a temporary resolution….” Dag laced his thick fingers together.
“Uncle?” asked Cinder in such a tone that suggested none of this was predisposed at all.
“Return with them to their district.” He jutted the tip of his salt and pepper beard toward Danek. “Present yourself to Vladislov’s subjects. They need a temporary ruler while Danek’s troupes recover the young lord. Rebuild the Central European Magic Regime.”
“Yes, brother!” Balder rumbled. “Fantastic idea! You’re already a familiar face, dear—a beloved international figure. Their citizens need someone to believe in. Unfortunately, we find ourselves ravaged by revolution. Fear is the most dangerous thing in the hands of our people. But you could lift the morale, Cinder.”
She grinned. Each piece of her plan was falling into place. They’d been consp
iring since news of the uprising. Whoever was left of the Regime were woebegone and pathetic. Now the only knight she needed off her board was Aiden…and if he was indeed altered…getting rid of him would be easy. She’d have good excuse to kill him, and then claim herself as Queen. Two districts. Soon, all of Europe.
She fought to keep her excitement suppressed while she gauged Danek’s reaction to their proposal: His eyes were narrowed, his finger pressed between his lips.
“A woman?” Cinder thought she heard him grumble in an undertone and held herself from gnashing at him like a wild animal.
Who better than a woman? Men lacked cunning…obviously. All they were good at was offense and brute force. Orchestrating the takeover of Aiden’s district would take cunning and finesse.
Aiden Price will fall.
Meredith toed up to Danek quietly, her swollen hand on his forearm. “Might not be a bad idea, d-dear.” She forced out the endearing term, her face looking rather green.
“The press is having a field day,” Danek sighed. “We are losing morale. I see no other option.”
Dag pivoted to the chair he’d been sitting in, plucking up the newest edition of the Weekly Cackle. Of course, Aiden’s face was splashed across the front page, but Dag turned it over and held a different picture in front of Danek.
“The Vampire. The one responsible for all this. He’s being glorified throughout districts all over the world. Dreaded Vampire Ruzik. He’s being heralded for getting away with the worst crime in a century and for holding captive the human girl. Unlimited blood supply with little effort. She keeps him at large. They’re calling him a mastermind. He is a celebrity. Even among our kind—so filled with fear and hatred, but so fascinated all at once.”
The grayscale photograph depicted the human girl being attacked by Valek Ruzik in broad daylight, his fangs in her throat while she gripped the tops of his arms, her face fixed in a grimace. He looked positively animalistic. A small amount fear scurried up Cinder’s back, but no one would ever know it. She’d stow that away to the darkest depths of her mind. You fear nothing, she reminded herself. You fear nothing.
“That maniac!” growled Meredith. “What is there to glamorize? He’s as evil as they come!”
“Everyone loves a good villain,” Cinder muttered stoically.
Danek grabbed up the periodical in his fists, his lip curling.
“How? Why?” He wheeled around to Meredith. “The mortal is the one to blame here! She is centric in all this! It goes against everything Vladislov stood for!” He chucked the paper at the ground and rubbed his tired eyes. “I’ve failed him so miserably.”
“Danek, we have to do this,” Cinder pressed. She placed her hand on his shoulder. It was the perfect plan—the perfect chance. The Western European Magic Court was a small district—easy to run even on her own now that Fallon Price was dead—killed by dragons in the mountains, or so she allowed everyone to believe.
Aiden Price was a weakling. If he were anything like his uncle, she could take care of him in one fell swoop. But she would have to wait until no one was looking. Or, if enough of the darkness overcame him, she could make it appear as if he attacked her. A self-defense plea. Brilliant.
But, these were thoughts best saved for later. There were much bigger things that required her attention now. She needed to concentrate on having the rest of Europe’s magic societies fall in love with her.
More districts. More power. Destroy the patriarchy.
The moment Danek breathed his hesitant ‘yes’ was the moment Cinder erupted with orders to her staff:
“Schedule my press conference in Prague for Sunday next. Arrange our travel. Ensure the Regime Palace is dressed and restored upon my arrival. Employ as many Elves as you need. Send a party South to search for Aiden. Check every Occult city from here to Croatia. Move on this! I want the head of every Occult publication at the palace tomorrow. And shine my most modest crown—I want their first impression of me to be that I am humble and charming.”
Nightshade
Charlotte’s heart caught in her throat as she ran. Every muscle in her chest tensed and she cried out through the crowded square.
Valek was nowhere to be found.
Hexed lanterns twinkled in oranges and reds against the bruised evening sky. They cast eerie shadows over the alleys and arcades. Various creatures and magic beings clustered around her, shoving her aside as they pushed past in the opposite direction. Low, monotonous conversation buzzed while she shouldered against the mob of rushing elbows and heads like a fish swimming upstream.
Every face seemed un-friendlier than the last. Smog hung thick with the smell of too many bodies in one place.
“Valek?”
No. He couldn’t have gone back that way. He must’ve been somewhere near the front of the square.
She spun in the same direction the crowd headed, fiery curls flying into her eyes. The night was sticky and too hot. She wanted to peel out of her sweater. There was no time to think—no time wait.
“Valek?”
Her stomach twisted in an awful knot. The back of her throat was sandpaper-dry, scorching like fire. Grasping at her neck, she dug her nails desperately into her flesh, begging for relief from the incinerating. Where was he? Surely, he was hiding in his guilt for what he had made of her.
Nobody looked at her as she cried for him. Nobody even acknowledged she was there, panicking, desperate. Elves, Imps, Shifters, Witches, and the rest of those so utterly different from her continued with their collective focus pointed upward, all marching in the same direction down the wide, cobblestone street. Their gazes were blank—lifeless.
Charlotte grabbed hold to the arm of one tall Witch with platinum hair. She recognized her immediately—one of the Witches her archrival Evangeline used to gallivant with in Howler’s Tavern. Her face was severe. There was no light in her silver eyes.
“Agatha! I’m looking for Valek!” Charlotte tugged at her.
But there was no response—no reaction—not even so much as a facial twitch. She merely continued past Charlotte like she wasn’t there at all.
“Someone!” she cried again. “Help me! Please!”
Twirling back in the direction of home, she was abruptly bowled over as the great arm of an Ogre slammed her back, shoving her to the ground.
Suddenly, she was surrounded by a forest of rushing feet and claws and she rolled clear from being trampled, scrambling for refuge behind the large stone fountain in the center of the square.
Propping her back against the outside of the basin, hugging her knees, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, struggling to calm herself. But the heady scent of something savory and metallic made her eyes snap open again.
The soft skin of her palms stung, bloodied from her fall. Rough granules clung to the shallow cuts. Salty iron wafted up through her senses. Her mouth watered. There lived a desire to press the heel of her hand to her lips and lick her wounds clean but she shoved those urges away and pulled to her feet again.
Breaching the surface of the sea of faces, she gasped for him again.
“Valek! Valek! Where are you?” Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry!”
Still, no one answered her. And then she caught sight of the bronze weather vane peeking out over the trees from her house’s one spired roof. Home. That’s where Valek was. She should have realized it before.
For a brief second, however, something else captured her attention—something blooming brightly over the steeples of the square and all of Bohemia—
Dawn.
It came like the opposing army, blasting a cannon hole through the velvet midnight hues, swirling in violent pinks and yellows.
“No….”
Her breath caught in her throat and she felt like she might be sick. Daylight—death—was returning. Her flesh started to tighten around her bones. Her right hand burned worse, and glancing down at it again, she discovered her fate line carved deep through the middle of her hand was beginnin
g to disappear.
“No! Valek! I’m sorry! Please! Where are you?”
More tears poured down her face as she sprinted in the direction of her house, racing as fast as her legs would move through the rabble to the familiar footpath and finally, her rickety porch steps.
The lights were on. Valek must’ve been inside this whole time.
Throwing open her front door, her breath was heavy in her ears, her lungs ablaze. She couldn’t leave him there alone. Not when dawn was coming to claim them. It was her fault for what she’d become. That was why he didn’t appear when she called for him. Yes. That was it. He must be angry with her.
Despite the pale light glowing softly in the salon and the kitchen, the house felt stark and dead. There was a strange emptiness—an abandoned feeling. It was enough to make her heart sink miserably to the bottom of her stomach.
She toed in deeper, sensing Valek was upstairs in his bedroom. Choking over her fevered breathing, she bolted up to the second story and down the dusty hall. Her whole body felt like it had been set on fire.
“Valek!” The ornate mahogany doors of his bedroom crashed inward when she shoved them open with all her might. “Valek, we have to leave! They are coming for us! We have to—”
Charlotte stopped in a cold sweat when she saw movement within the spluttering candlelight.
Valek lay belly-up on his bed, his arms and chest bare. A graceful-looking female loomed over him and Charlotte saw a golden wedding band glint on her slender left ring finger while she affectionately stroked the side of his face. Her brown hair twirled down over the perfect ivory of her skin. She was beautiful. Delicate. Human.
Bile rose in the back of Charlotte’s throat.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he murmured sweetly up to the woman, his horrid monster claw trailing down her naked spine as she moved over him, breathing heavily.
Charlotte gasped, recalling the story Valek told her one night while they were in hiding from the Regime—the story of his long-deceased mortal wife.
Tears flooded the corners of her eyes.
Of Blood and Magic Page 12
