“Fantastic. I photograph best from my left side.”
“Dually noted, my Lady. Tell me…is it true you are still in possession of the Dark Sword? Otherwise known as the Ceremonial Sword of the Order?” He licked at the end of his pencil.
Her breath hitched with his mention of the artifact. She’d forgotten about it, not having need for it in decades. “I am. It is in my keeping,” she said, glancing over at her father. “The Dark elite cannot initiate any new members into their Order without it—if any of the old members are even still around….”
“And tell me again, Lady Price, how you came across such a relic.”
“It was the Darkness’ first attempt at an uprising some years ago during the Crusades. It was bestowed upon me, a gift from Myrddin Wyllt himself, when I brought down the great Sigismund of Luxemburg, also known by the Darkness as Father, the founder of the House of Drăculești.”
“So, what you’re saying is, the Dark cannot grow in size or strength without such an object in their possession?”
“Precisely. The mortals display a replica in Hofburg Palace in Vienna, but I assure you…the sword in my possession is the real thing. And I will use it to separate the Dreaded Vampire’s head from his body.”
“I see. Very poetic. And if Lord Price should not be well again in time for the Winter Symposium, what is your plan of action?”
Cinder’s gaze darted up at once to Danek’s ghost-white face and then over to her father’s confident grin. “Aiden Price will indeed be well in time for the Symposium,” she lied through her forced grin, though it physically nauseated her to say it. “I am very confident, because our family is resilient. No one fights harder than a Price. However…if in the event the young Lord is unable to fulfill his duties to run this oligarchy, I will remain in charge until the summer solstice. At which time, and by Law Three of the Magic Code of Myrddin, if a district has gone two solstices without a permanent ruler, the people can elect whom they see fit for the job.”
Her heart lifted with her image of accepting Aiden’s throne. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Danek sulk even more. If Meredith had been present, Cinder was certain her eyes would have been clawed out for mentioning such an idea. But no matter. Salazar Quipp was scribbling away on his pad. Cinder was giddy with the anticipation of reading the next edition of the Cackle.
“Pardon the interruption, your excellences.” Another boyish page bowed near the end of the corridor where pillars framed the entry to the throne room. “Lady Price, are you ready?”
“My scepter!” She batted her hands, looking frantically around herself. “Where is my scepter?”
She could not enter an official gathering without it. It would be most improper. One of the maids skittered up from the back of the group, gripping the long bronze scepter in both hands. It was topped by a huge chiseled quartz, which made the thing a little top-heavy, the maid teetering as she handed it off. But the weight was nothing for Cinder’s superior biceps.
Another maid readied herself at the end of Cinder’s regal cape, holding it up so it wouldn’t dust the floor as she went. Two more maids flanked her at both sides.
Balder leaned to kiss his daughter on the cheek. “Like we practiced,” he repeated. “All smiles.”
Cinder was preceded only by the page and a few more maids flanking her sides. Danek and Balder followed. Meredith was not there, thankfully, having made the very vocal announcement about having no interest in attending an official event until her precious baby was well again. Instead, she remained in Norway, with the rest of her snot-nosed brats to coo and cry over her pathetic, missing Aiden.
The throne room of the Regime palace had been mostly restored to its rightful beauty after the group of savages turned it on its head, nearly crumbling the palace to its foundation. Evidence of the fight was still left in the cracked columns and marble floor. An entire hunk was missing from the top of Aiden’s throne and one of the furthest windows was smashed, a spidery pattern fractioning the glass.
There was no eruption of enthusiasm when Cinder and her cabinet entered. Instead, key members of Occult press, representatives from other districts, and various other officials sat in aligned pews, facing the dais where the Regime oligarchy chairs sat empty.
Solemnity hung thick throughout the entire palace. Thin, black tapers wreathed around the main throne, their flames burning silver in mourning for Vladislov’s passing and for Lord Price’s critical condition.
As Cinder made her way to the front, there were suspicious murmurs from the knots of creatures huddled close in their seats. Most were adorned in official robes likened to the cultures of their respective districts, some sweeping more traditional garments, while others wore modern blazers with a specific emblem pinned to their lapels.
She smiled reverently at a few of their stern visages, noticing how they were already scribbling things, their glares assessing what she was wearing. Perhaps she should have chosen something more conservative. But there was no time for second-guessing now. She’d win them over…one way or another.
Just like we practiced.
The castle maids adjusted her cape so that it swept fluidly at her toes and not a wrinkle out of place. She did not sit in the Lord’s throne…not yet. Balder and Dag suggested it might be in poor taste. She should first be accepted by Aiden’s people before assuming his chair.
Instead, she remained standing at the center of the dais behind a podium erected for her from tree roots and vines. A brown-haired Witch wearing a pantsuit and the crest of the Western European Magic Court rushed up and whispered “Magnus,” while holding out her quill pen to Cinder’s neck.
When she opened her mouth to speak, a surge of warmth spread through the base of her throat like she swallowed a mouthful of brandy and her voice was magnified ten times:
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Central European Magic District,” she began in earnest, gripping the edges of her podium. “It is with deep honor, though also with great sorrow that I am here addressing you all today.”
The hall was so silent one could hear the mortals bustling like rats through Prague’s streets outside. Someone in the fourth row gave a stale cough.
“The loss of any great ruler is most often followed by a period of faithlessness, a period of desolation for any country, realm, or district. And with the added shock of what happened here during Aiden Price’s enthronement….” Cinder bowed her head. “I mean it when I tell you my heart is as broken as is all of yours. Lord Vladislov was one of the boldest leaders I’ve ever known. He was kind to his people as he was cunning against his enemies. I am proud to say I have counted him among my closest friends. And Lord Aiden—my own nephew….” She pressed her fist to her sternum. “A young Lord with such promise and such ideas.”
A tan hand shot up from the middle of the room, a dignitary from the Assembly of Magic in Bangladesh. “Is it true Aiden Price is missing now—”
“But let us not squander our energies in mourning and strife,” Cinder ignored her, rolling right over her indiscretion. “For this is not what these two great men would want. Here, ladies and gentlemen, we are faced with opportunity. In tumultuous times, we are presented with a challenge. Falter under the weight of darkness…or rise? The symbol of this Regime is the phoenix. Resilience. Rebirth. Strength. Life. These are the things the Light stands for.
“We are faced with a single choice. Hide or fight. The Dark is powerful, indeed, friends. And they are still out there. Our sworn enemy—those who bring darkness and death—those who hunt us now, because really, they too crave the light they lost long ago. As your temporary leader, I will ensure the safety of all Elven kind. I will ensure the security of our borders again, and I will restore hope to the people of this district.
“Please, I ask you all to do one thing. Put your faith in me. A member of the Price family. A lover of the Light. A successful ruler over your neighboring district. Someone who is honest and true. Someone who will guarantee that Valek Ruzik and his army
will be brought to their knees—who will be brought to justice. Put your faith in me, and then allow me to do the rest.”
Cameras flashed. Quills scratched wildly, some of them hand-held, some of them writing on their own, hexed by spells as their owners dictated, muttering quietly down at their notes. Even from the far end of the room, Cinder could see her father’s eyes glittering with admiration while Danek looked defeated as ever. There was no applause. No rally cries. This was an address. Cinder hoped her message would successfully reach the eyes and ears of these subjects. If she could gain their trust, she could gain Aiden’s throne. Two districts were better than one. The rest of the world would follow.
One order.
More districts. More power. Destroy the patriarchy.
Hiding Spot
“I’m fine.” Charlotte struggled to stand up from the gurney, though the stark office tilted and she stumbled forward a step.
Jorge was in front of her in an instant, steadying her by the elbows. He wanted to help. The others did their best to keep their distance. “You should know by now it’s impossible to lie to us, Charlotte.”
After a bit more of Sarah’s tea, Charlotte could at least breathe again, though her mark still singed terribly. Sarah had whipped up something from her new grimoire—a potion black and bubbling this time—and smeared it across the brilliant crimson crescent, which still grew tendrils that spread up one side of Charlotte’s neck and down over her shoulder.
How could Valek think physically cutting it out would solve the problem? This was the Curse, after all. It was in her blood, not her skin. He should have known better.
Jorge, who’d wandered guiltily back through the front door with Dusana and the twins, jumped to action at once, helping to rewrap Charlotte’s throat in gauze when it started to bleed through.
He wasn’t a doctor, like Valek, but he was the second most restrained in the house.
Valek still hadn’t come back from searching for Lusian yet. He was the only one who didn’t come traipsing in with the others.
“I can’t believe this!” Sarah shrieked, throwing her arms up. “What’s come over you lot? Valek is at odds. When he gets home, you better believe he’ll mount your heads above his mantle! One whiff of blood and you all revert to beasts!”
Jorge cut a nasty glare at Sarah. “You’ve done enough scolding for one evening. I am trying to help.”
She shook her head. “Don’t you think I remember what it was like before Charlotte? Don’t you think I remember how terrible it was down in Francis’ basement? A few of you even considered feeding on me.”
Jorge rolled his eyes as fiercely as he could, exasperated.
“Where is Lusian? You must know!” she continued to prod. “I swear by the Goddess, when I get my hands on him I’ll—”
“After taking the town, we agreed to meet up in one spot,” Jorge explained, his wintery claws lingering over Charlotte’s bandage doing something to ease the slight burning. “I’d say the rest of us are satisfied, but you know him. Reckless Lusian,” he lamented. “By the time he comes home, that idiot will be so blood-drunk he wouldn’t even realize it if someone followed him back here.”
Sarah sighed messaging her temples. “There are so many other variables, now, what with your faces plastered all over the news. Valek warned you. We’re not free yet. Hunting so far away was irresponsible.”
“I know.” Jorge lifted a claw to her. “A single moment of weakness. I swear. It won’t happen again.”
“I trust you. It’s the others who are impossible.”
Blazing pulsations were already returning to the base of Charlotte’s throat and she could tell the pain from her strange disease was not about to release her so easily tonight. The fluorescent office light was beginning to bother her again too, blaring out in obnoxious streaks across her vision. It made the front of her cranium throb, the muscles in her shoulders twisting into tight lumps.
“Charlotte, you need to stop scratching!” Sarah pulled her hand away, keeping her nails from tearing holes into the new bandage. “Jorge, I think you’d be of better help if you went to hunt down Lusian as well.”
“Well, I know Valek can’t be far off,” Jorge sighed, his shoulders slumping.
“Tell him to come home. Between our magic and our clever heads, we’ll figure this one out too,” she offered with a glum smile before turning to Charlotte. “Come…all I’ve got for now is time and temporary fixes.”
With her arm draped over Sarah’s shoulders, they began to walk together out of the room.
Charlotte could see Sarah was not about to let any Vampire get too close for too long. It wasn’t easy to miss the scowl in her eyes when she told Jorge to leave.
Jorge didn’t say much more to either of them. His face hard, his eyes strained, he withdrew from the room.
Charlotte heard the door at the front of the house slam. Her heart sank a little.
After three cups of healing cider and some time spent in Sarah’s room “helping” her rummage through her wardrobe, Charlotte felt beyond frustrated. The Witch was only trying to distract her from her most begging questions.
With Valek out of the house, now was the only time Charlotte had to snoop. If she wanted to find that damnable book, she needed to do it when no one else was looking…or listening. But how could she make Sarah leave her alone?
“Maybe we haven’t been asking ourselves the right questions,” Charlotte offered as Sarah organized and then re-organized her dresses, still not satisfied:
Should she order them by color or by hem-length? Perhaps it would be better if she grouped the materials together.
“Well, what would you suggest? Because I swear I’ve asked the Goddess above about every which way I might be able to fix you.” There was a desperate exhaustion hinging on the edge of her tone and guilt pressed heavy over Charlotte’s shoulders.
“Maybe it’s not you who should fix me.” Even though she was trying her best to distract her, it was also an honest idea.
After a life living among magic Charlotte couldn’t wield, the most important thing she’d learned was to ask for help when there was something she couldn’t do herself. Not every monster could perform every ability: Shifters couldn’t mind read. Vampires couldn’t fly. Magic was very finicky. It had its rules. Nothing was as it seemed…ever…and if one wanted a particular answer, the question needed to be just as particular.
Sarah gasped, her eyes bulging wide. She nearly dropped the dress she was holding. “Charlotte, you genius little devil!”
Flinging the final garment into the wardrobe, not caring if it landed by color or by hem length, she slammed the paneled doors shut and darted out of the room.
“Oh, you have no idea,” Charlotte whispered.
Perhaps this new idea would keep Sarah toying for at least a few hours, she thought. Would it be enough time to seek some answers—to find where Valek’s hidden the Volume Two? Charlotte hoped so. She descended, deciding to start with the first floor.
Valek and Lusian were still missing. Jorge was still searching for them.
Dusana, the twins, and Sasha hid about in other various rooms of the house, too groggy and engorged with blood to be snapped at again by Sarah. Edwin and Třínožka had barely emerged from their burrow this past week. The general store remained busy each day since the re-opening, and so the boys always hobbled home, exhausted, but with pockets full of hellars.
Charlotte scoured the foyer with her thumb between her teeth. He wouldn’t have hid the book in his office. It was the place where he usually studied things, so he’d anticipate Charlotte’s desire to look there.
He wouldn’t have stashed it in the library. She frequented those shelves too often. For a moment, she considered fumbling through the kitchen cabinets, but no. That would also be a bad idea. He wouldn’t have hid it in there either.
Her focus slid from the library doors, up the steps again, to the darkened second story landing. There. He’d hidden it somewhere up there
.
Anxiousness rushed over her and she flitted to the bay windows, peeking out at the night, straining hard to see any sign of movement through the snowy darkness.
Evergreen branches rustled in the slight wind, but that was about it. There were no Vampire eyes gleaming at her from the shadows—no footsteps in the pure white blanketing the pathway.
The house settled in eerie silence. The study doors were cast open. Sarah’s face was pressed into the crook of her favorite new grimoire as she muttered things to herself. She wouldn’t notice it if Charlotte decided to have a peek around Valek’s room, would she?
“Sarah?” Charlotte murmured, creeping over to lean her cheek against the library’s doorpost.
“Hmm?” The Witch didn’t so much as glance up for even a second, flipping a page as she sat cross-legged in front of the healthy fire. Her eyes looked tired, but she remained focused, her eyebrows pulled downward as she skimmed a page, her index finger sliding from left to right. Left to right. Left to right. Licking her thumb, she turned the page again. Left to right.
“When do you think they’ll be home?” She bit down over her lower lip, hoping Sarah would remain too distracted to read between the lines of her question.
“I have no idea, Charlotte,” she sounded irritated. Good. It meant she didn’t want to be bothered. “They just left, didn’t they? Don’t worry so much. Valek’s not irresponsible. They’ll find Lusian.”
“I know….” Stretching her arms wide, she threw her head back and feigned a great yawn. “I’m feeling a little tired.”
“Go to bed then,” the Witch snapped.
Charlotte frowned. “All right. Will you—”
Sarah released an agitated little grunt. “They’ll be fine Charlotte. You’ll see them first thing when you wake. By the Goddess, can’t you stand a single minute without him attached to your hip?”
Wincing, she opened her mouth to retort, but stopped herself. No. She was on a mission. Sarah didn’t mean it after all. She was under a lot of stress. They all were.
Of Blood and Magic Page 23
