Of Blood and Deceit

by Rachel A. Collett

  Blood pooled upon the ground from stab wounds to their chests. Both had been killed recently.

  Without knocking, Siana entered Johan’s room, then froze. Fear momentarily held me in place before I clamped down the emotion and followed her in. The room was empty. The lilac drapes had been crudely slashed, and upon the window sill was a single candle with a glowing flame. Apprehension thickened within my stomach and my breath squeezed within my lungs. I whirled, jolting from the room, but Siana seized my wrist before I could get far.

  “Let go,” I growled.

  She pulled even harder. “Obviously, you aren’t the only one who wanted your uncle dead. Who else?”

  I glared at her. “I don’t know.” But then the memory of Castiel’s words rang through my mind. I’m going to kill that bastard! A moan escaped my lips, but I covered it with a grasping answer. “Perhaps the wraith might want him dead.”

  “As well as the prince,” Siana said.

  I rallied. “The prince would n—”

  “Castiel would never stoop so low as to murder the king of Eira in his sleep, as deserving of it as he is,” she said, pinning me with a condescending glare. Her voice softened a fraction. “He would, however, offer a challenge to the one who harmed the woman he loves.”

  I cursed beneath my breath.

  She lifted her head. “And rightly so.”

  I nodded, gesturing to the window. “That’s Johan’s signal for aid. He’s gathering his men to him.”

  The assassin raced to the window and pinched out the light, but it was too late. They were already on their way. I hurried back to the stairwell, where Siana caught up to me. “Where are you going?” she asked, following close behind.

  My heart ached to find Castiel, but my mind told me I had to finish my business with Johan. The king of Eira signaled for his troops because he felt threatened, and that meant more would die tonight. “I need to find my uncle.” I had to stop him—to get him to call back his men. If all else failed, I would vow to return home with him to get him to leave. I would protect the people of Anolyn.

  “How many will come?” Siana asked.

  I shook my head. “I have no idea how many have followed him here.” A sinking in my gut warned that this whole affair was nothing but a military campaign against Anolyn. Perhaps someone found out and attacked first. “He wouldn’t have killed his personal guards.”

  Even in the darkened hallways, the assassin held my gaze. “You must find him. Whoever killed his guards was probably coming after him and he knew it.”

  And whoever it was, they had ruined everything.

  “I must go to the crown,” she finished.

  We reached the stairwell and Siana split off from me, heading up. I preceded down to the throne room.

  Suddenly alone, panic twisted my gut into knots. Cold seeped through my clothes, chilling me to the bone. At the bottom floor, the hallway opened into the reception hall. The moon cast its glow through the grand windows, highlighting a hunched form across the expanse of the room. I skidded to a stop as the mass moved. Light reflected off a blade it held just before it plunged it downward. A sickening sound of steel gouging flesh resonated within my ears. Despite the alarm pealing inside my brain, I ran forward.

  It wasn’t one large figure, but two smaller ones. As the ambassador yanked her bloodied blade to strike again, I slid to my knees, grasped her wrist, and twisted. The knife fell from her fingers, and I deftly picked it up with my free hand. Holding the stolen blade to her neck, I peered down to the victim: Pala, her dark hair pulled high in a severe bun, her gray dress made darker by the blood pouring from her heart.

  Keeping the blade on the ambassador, I checked Pala for signs of life, but there were none in her. A chill ran up my arm to the touch of her cold skin. Multiple stab wounds peppered her body. Sickness threatened to weaken me, but I pushed it back.

  I gritted my teeth, lifting the blade closer to the ambassador’s skin. “Why?” It was the only thing I could think to say. I held no genuine love for my former lady’s maid, but she was someone who had taken care of me since I was a child. While she had never shown me an ounce of concern past the duties she was given, that didn’t mean I wanted her dead.

  The ambassador’s breathing came out in gasps. The moon cast an eerie glow, reflecting on her strange eyes. My eyes.

  I removed the knife from her throat and she scuttled back until she hit the stone wall behind her. She shook her head. For a moment I thought she wouldn’t answer. Then, “She was a spy. She was her spy.”

  “Who?” But my brain connected with what she was saying. “No. She was no spy to the Wraith Queen. She was a spy for my uncle.” That was what she did—spied on me for my uncle.

  “Johan is a puppet. Pala was a spy. Evil.”

  “She was only a lady’s maid.”

  The ambassador gripped both sides of her head, lacing her fingers into her wild hair. “Evil.” She tucked her knees close to her chest and tapped her forehead hard against the bones.

  I scowled at the pathetic creature shaking in her own skin. “Who are you?”

  Her familiar silver-blue eyes pinned me in place, dread embedded deep within them. She displayed her long, slender hands. “What did you do to me?”

  A strange mixture of compassion and guilt tugged at my heart and I answered honestly. “I was given a potion to paint around your door. I assume that when you passed beneath it, whatever spell it held stopped your master from being able to follow.”

  A tear slipped down her cheek as the blood drained from her face. “No, no, no. You can’t do that.”

  I lowered my voice. “But don’t you see? It worked. You are free of her.”

  “No, no, no.”

  “What is your name?” I asked again, reaching to place my hand on her. “Tell me your name.”

  She jerked away from my touch. Wariness pulled at her face, but finally, she answered. “Deylah.”

  I nodded. “I can help you. We can protect you from Theia.”

  At the mention of the Wraith Queen’s name, Deylah’s eyes grew wide. She doubled over, pulling at her hair. “No. No one can help. She’ll kill me. She’ll kill us all.”

  A scream rang through the night and suddenly the pryor was on her feet. She drew back several paces from the sound. We both looked to the large double doors as beyond, another bone-shattering cry muffled from the outside.

  The ambassador bolted.

  Drawn between several choices, I hesitated. Johan should have been my priority, but I had no idea where he was or what the commotion was outdoors. It was obvious that Deylah had killed the men outside his room. The stab wounds inflicted to Pala were the same given. If I didn’t stop the pryor, would she continue to kill?

  I growled and leapt to follow her.

  My breath caught in my lungs and pain erupted at my skull. I grabbed at the hand that held me by a fist-full of hair. Another hand clamped over my mouth before I could scream. Pinned to my uncle’s massive chest, I fought as he half dragged me, kicking and flailing, through the grand double doors of the throne room.

  “Bar the doors,” Johan said. His breath smelled of rank liquor and rotten cheese.

  Lucan-Cyris shut them behind him, pressing his back to the thick wood.

  Fear coated my throat, making breathing near impossible. I gripped the hands that covered my face and held them as I bit into the flesh of his palm. Johan cursed, flinging me to the ground. I rolled and shot quickly to my feet.

  “You rabid, feral beast!” My uncle shook his hand to rid the pain, disgust on his face. “Feral! You were always too much trouble for what you’re worth.”

  My eyes adjusted to the darkened throne room. Moonlight glowed through the windows and onto the stone floor, but it wasn’t enough to cast the lurking shadows away. Cold infiltrated my muscles and penetrated my bones.

  A gasp drew my attention. “It’s the princess.”

  A boy no older than me with strawberry-blond hair stood in full Eirian uniform nex
t to another his age. That one had hair clipped tight to his head—a tactic to incite fear in those he fought, but on someone so young it looked strange. Their expressions teetered between confusion and anxiety as they glanced between me and their king.

  I once protected boys like these from the harassment of the higher-ranking elite that enjoyed sending out fresh faces to the scars of battle. They were both too young to be safeguarding the king of Eira and too new in the ranks to know how my uncle abused me, how much contempt he held for me. Only those the king kept closest to him understood.

  Three more guards flanked my uncle. Even though I couldn’t see their faces, I knew their shadowed eyes watched me, derision thick upon their brows.

  Screams from beyond Meyrion’s walls rent the air, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. Sounds of a battle racked across the inside of my brain.

  “What have you done, Uncle?” I asked, my strained voice an octave too high. I needed to be fighting with the people of Anolyn.

  His eyes narrowed, and he drew closer to a nearby stained window. He gestured to it. “Would you like to take a look? The kingdom of Anolyn will burn tonight because of you.”

  My stomach dropped. “These people didn’t do anything to deserve your anger.”

  “Perhaps not, but they will be punished for your transgressions.”

  My jaw tightened. “And what have I done against you?”

  “You didn’t send a maniac to kill me in my sleep?” he asked, his hushed voice hollow in the cavernous room “To kill your lady’s maid—a woman that’s taken care of you as if you were her own?”

  “No,” I said, but he didn’t appear to hear me.

  Johan sauntered to Riaan’s throne, trailing a fat finger on the back of the seat before he plopped down in it. He draped one leg lazily over the armrest—a perfect image of ease, and so vastly different from the one that truly claimed it. His guards circled him, glaring their discomfort.

  Johan stifled a yawn. “If Lucan hadn’t woken me, your plot may have succeeded.”

  The wraith shrugged, his composed actions so Lucan-like it worried me. “I thought it was the princess.”

  “Why would the princess want to kill her uncle?” the strawberry-blond guard said, earning a glare from one of the senior guards.

  Johan huffed a laugh, ignoring the youth. His head turned to inspect me. “So tell me, who’s the assassin? She looked familiar.”

  “I didn’t send any assassin after you. Believe me, if I wanted you dead, I would do the honor myself.”

  His eyes narrowed. Did he hear the promise in my voice?

  He answered my threat with a shrug. “You’re a liar and a coward, but it doesn’t matter. My men will find her, and when they do, I’ll rip out her heart and feed it to you.” He sat up straight to peer at me down the length of his nose. “When my army brings me the heads of Riaan and your intended, maybe then you’ll feel the full effect of your treachery.”

  “And why aren’t you fighting with your men?” I asked, my words braver than I felt.

  One of the boys inhaled a sharp breath.

  Anger and shock twisted Johan’s face. “You’ll pay for that comment as well, Niece.”

  Another wail, wild and guttural, rang from outside and filled me with dread. My lungs seized to the cries of citizens’ voices tearing through the night. What was happening to the Anolynians? To a people I had grown to love?

  I pulled one of the daggers Siana gave me and held it ready. Keeping my gaze trained on my uncle, I moved to the wraith at the doors. “Step aside.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched up, but he did not move. What game was he playing?

  “You’re not going anywhere, except with me,” Johan said, his eyes narrowed. “If you refuse, I’ll have you killed for being the traitor you are.”

  I spun. “I’ve never been a traitor, but I’m not going back with you.”

  He jutted forward, ejecting from the throne. “How dare you.”

  Faster than he looked, he lunged, reaching to grab me by the hair again. I leaped back and slashed upward to cut into his arm.

  He gaped at the thin laceration. Then with a roar, he charged. I dashed away from his assault. I couldn’t allow him to get too close. If he got the chance, he would take me to the ground where I was the weakest. If he got me there, I was as good as dead.

  He spun and glared at me, heaving great breaths. His size was one problem, but my uncle also didn’t train. He was once a powerful youth; now he relied on the memory of his former self and his height and girth to do the work for him.

  I drew the assassin’s second blade and held it low, readying for his next attack.

  The corner of his mouth lifted. “Do you remember the last time you attacked me, girl?” His gaze slid to the scar on my neck.

  A croak of a voice interrupted. “Your Majesty, that’s—”

  “What?” Johan snapped, glaring at the boy.

  He shrank, but not enough. “That’s the princess.”

  With a smile, Johan suddenly changed tactics. He sighed, holding out a hand. “The soldier’s right. This is not what I wanted, my Lilipad. Come, Niece. This is all—this is all very unnecessary. Please, come with me and I’ll call off the assault. Come with me now and the rest will be spared. I never wanted it to happen this way. We can still have peace.”

  I breathed a feverish laugh. “Peace will come, but not by you.”

  Johan’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded. I barely dodged as three of his men attacked from behind. I whirled and blocked a sword from the first guard with both blades then knocked the second away with a frontal kick to his stomach. I rotated my knives, easily disarming my original opponent, and stabbed him through the ribcage. He slumped to the stone floor. I ripped my weapon from his flesh and like the strike of a snake, flung it into the heart of the second guard.

  Another rushed me, but before he could lift his sword, I flicked my wrist and Siana’s second dagger imbedded into his throat. He dropped to his knees, his eyes wide and his breath gurgled.

  A massive fist backhanded me across the face. I whirled at the impact and my vision sparked, then blackened as I collided with the ground. A groan bubbled past swollen lips and I tasted blood. My neck muscles threatened to snap when Johan pulled my hair back.

  Why didn’t you use your magic on your uncle? Castiel’s words echoed agonizingly inside my brain. Even as I thought it, magic pulsed in my veins.

  I would never give my uncle what he wanted. I couldn’t.

  “You treacherous cow,” he said, his voice low.

  My words rasped heavily in my throat. “You threaten my life and don’t expect me to respond to that threat?”

  “As your king—”

  I laughed, and the sound echoed inside my brain. “You are no king of mine. Not anymore.”

  Johan raised his hand to strike, but suddenly the wraith had him by the wrist. “She’ll be impossible to transport if she’s unconscious, Your Majesty.” Was that a touch of worry in his tone? “Our escape route is too narrow, and I cannot carry her. We must leave.”

  Johan jerked from his grip and glared, then he lowered his face to mine. “You’ve learned some nasty behaviors here, Lilipad,” he said, his words echoing painfully in my ears. “I look forward to correcting them when we return home.”

  Voices drew the king’s attention. Lucan ran and opened the doors to the throne room. “They found her,” the wraith called out.

  Johan released me with a hard shove. “Bring her here and bind the princess.” He towered over me but before he walked away, he jerked to a halt and spun. His hand whipped me across the face, the sound of his slap reverberating in my ears and off the walls. I fell forward, a violent cough rattling my lungs. Cold and annoyed, I pushed against the ground, rising partway.

  I closed my eyes as past memories matched and mingled with the present.

  The two younger guards quickly came forward, their expressions pale. Pain laced my neck and face. I groaned
as they lifted me to my knees. Something warm leaked from both nostrils. I jerked away from them to carelessly wiped at the blood with the back of my hand, but then they seized me again and tied my wrists behind me with a cord. Agony raced up my arms when they tied it too tight and it cut terribly into the veins.

  “I’m sorry,” the strawberry blond said, realizing his mistake but too afraid to fix it. When they finished, they stood over me, waiting for their next command.

  I closed my eyes and focused. A few seconds later and my magic loosened the binds enough to ease the pain, but I couldn’t escape them completely. Not yet.

  Through blurred vision I witnessed three more of Johan’s men drag in Deylah and dump her to the floor. The newcomers’ eyes widened at their killed comrades, but they didn’t ask what had transpired.

  Deylah moaned and coughed and her captors backed away, keeping their weapons trained on her. Lucan turned his head, unwilling to view the pryor.

  Her hair was mottled and halfway hanging from its tie. Her body shook violently. Blood dripped from a slash on her lips. Red coated her hands and much of her dress, except for a large, black patch of filth at the hemline. When her eyes found mine, they pled for me to help. My heart swelled. The magic within me grew, but more noticeable—more accessible—was the Demon Daughter pacing in her cage, ready to be set free.

  Johan wiped the perspiration from his brow and sauntered toward the quaking woman. Stopping several yards away, he crouched down, angling his head to get a better look.

  Deylah met his stare, the blood draining from her face.

  His voice pitched low. “Her eyes…” His head jerked toward me and he glared. “Who is this woman?”

  “You know exactly who she is, don’t you, Uncle?” I smiled wickedly. “You know what blood runs from her veins and drips onto the floor. That’s one of the Wraith Queen’s pryors.”

  He flinched. “A pryor?”

  I stood, closing my eyes as a wave of dizziness hit. The redheaded guard put his hand to my elbow to steady me, kinder than he should have been. I continued. “That’s Theia’s lineage. Her daughter and her cast off.” And now she was barely human at all, but not by choice. “Like me.” I opened my eyes in time to witness the color blanch from my uncle’s face. “Say hello to my grandmother.”