Of Blood and Deceit

by Rachel A. Collett

  My blood pulsed through my veins as I stepped around Castiel’s body shield. Anger deepened my voice. I tapped into the Demon Daughter’s force. “I’m not your daughter, and I’m no one’s property.” Power flowed through me, wild and ready. I clenched my hands and flames erupted, enveloping me, but it didn’t burn. Instead, it cocooned, protected me. Whether or not it was real, I didn’t know, but the fire wasn’t the Demon Daughter’s. It wasn’t Elyn’s. It was mine. All mine.

  I opened my arms, savoring the sensation.

  Theia smiled condescendingly. “That’s cute. But you’re not the only one who can start a fire, little girl.”

  An explosion caused me to spin, extinguishing my magic. From the flares the soldiers held, six men were ablaze, their cries echoing in my ears. They threw down their torches, but it was too late. The magical bonfire consumed them.

  And several things happened at once. Castiel jumped to put out the flames of his men, but they wildly flailed their arms, encouraging the fire. The other guards surrounded their king, shoving him back through the double doors to protect him. Riaan’s voice shouted above the din. “Now!”

  “No!” But my cry was not heard.

  While backing out of the room with his king, an archer took his aim and released his bow.

  In slow motion I watched the arrow find its mark in the chest of the monster.

  It wasn’t the Wraith Queen’s eyes that stared out from a shocked face.

  I bolted, pumping my legs hard and launched myself forward, barely catching Deylah before she plummeted to the ground. I fell to my knees, holding the woman in my arms, her skin already cold.

  The arrow had hit high on her right side, just below the collar bone. Deylah’s silvery-blue eyes searched mine, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

  “You’ll be alright,” I said, praying my words weren’t a lie. Carefully, I propped her up against the throne, then ripped fabric from the bottom of her skirt. From the corner of my eyes, movement caused my heart to seize. Johan leaped from the ground, a knife in hand. He ran at the nearest guard, stabbing him in the chest, then bolted toward the door. A distracted Castiel stood directly in his path.

  A scream stuck in my throat. I dropped the fabric and fell forward, splaying my fingers upon the smooth granite floor. Through my touch, I desperately sent my magic outward. Despite the chaos, my uncle’s essence was easy to recognize. I wrapped my mental connection around his energy and pulled hard. Johan groaned.

  Castiel put out the flames of one man and turned in time to witness his enemy crumple to the floor in a heap. His shocked line of sight traveled to me. A combination of comprehension and amazement flashed across his features before he tucked it away and yelled for aid. He ran to me.

  Johan’s brute strength fought against my magic, battling to be free, but I clenched on the connection. Sweat beaded upon my brow and dripped down the line of my nose. The power that flowed through me was more than I had ever felt in all my life and stronger than what came from the Demon Daughter because it was mine.

  Finally, Castiel was at my side. I relished the sound of his voice even if I didn’t understand the words. His hands covered mine, prying my fingers from the ground as Riaan’s guards subdued the king of Eira. They shackled him while I kept him pinned, then surrounded him, swords drawn.

  Something dark within me dared me to keep my hold upon Johan. It begged me to increase the pain and make him suffer as he had made me suffer.

  “It’s alright, Ilianna,” Castiel said, his soothing tone breaking through my mental fog. “You did it. They’ve got him.”

  Despite the tempting thought that ate at the barriers of my mind, I let go. I lifted my hands from the floor, shaking. Tremors racked my body and sent my teeth chattering. Castiel tried to gather me in his arms, but I pulled away. “Deylah,” I said through numbing lips. Ignoring his pained expression, I crawled to her.

  She was still alive but fading in and out of consciousness. Castiel picked up the torn fabric I had dropped and gently pressed it against the wound. Deylah’s eyes doubled in size and she groaned.

  Castiel pointed to a nearby soldier. “Find the healer.”

  “But she is the Wraith Queen’s servant,” Riaan said, suddenly before us. “You saw what she did, what the Wraith Queen is capable of doing through her.”

  “She didn’t have a choice,” I said. “See this?” I gestured to the place on her dress where a black substance stained the fabric. “Melora’s potion worked. The only reason Theia was able to get to her was because it was wiped away.”

  “And she wiped it.”

  “She was scared!” I hadn’t meant it to come out as a yell, but anger flooded my face and heated my tone. “Like me. Can’t you see that?”

  Riaan closed his eyes and cursed beneath his breath. “Very well. Find the healer.” The soldier nodded, running from the room. “But I can’t make any promises, Princess,” the king said.

  A crowd of citizens braved the calamity and pressed into the room. Gedeon entered, bringing with him a salve to anoint the burn victims. He handed the medicine off to those who had rolled up their sleeves to help. They administered immediate care and aid in the transport of the injured.

  When Gedeon finally knelt next to Deylah, his gaze met mine. “Go,” he said.

  “But I want to—”

  “No,” he said, his expression hard. “I don’t do parlor tricks, nor do I keep an audience.” His fingers gripped the tip of my chin, forcing my face to the side to examine my wounds. “I’ll be in to see you when I can.”

  “I don’t need—”

  But he released me with a wave of his hand. “Go, go.”

  I stood on weak legs when several soldiers moved Deylah’s body to lay with the other injured. The king of Anolyn reclaimed his throne and gestured for Johan to be brought before him. The guards deposited him on his knees. Johan fidgeted and pulled at his iron shackles, his gaze falling to me. He pointed a finger at me. “I always knew it.”

  I had done it. I had shown my uncle my magic. But despite everything I had believed, he’d never take advantage of me again. Not now.

  Riaan glared upon him with disgust. “Men, take him to the dungeons.”

  Johan jerked back as if shocked. “If you do this, Riaan Anouk, peace between our lands is over.”

  “You are the last one able to offer any kingdom peace,” a familiar voice said, pushing through the ranks of Anolyn soldiers. Weylan pressed forward. His green gaze first dropped to me, then to Castiel at my side. He tipped his head in acknowledgment, his carved jawline tense. Lucan-Cyris followed in his wake.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Johan yelled, twisting in his restraints. “Lucan?”

  “Lucan has been working for me,” Riaan said, interrupting. “His main objective tonight was to protect Princess Ilianna.”

  The wraith pinned me with his eyes. “As I said, my lady, you were safer here with me rather than out there.”

  I grunted low. When this was over, I had plenty to say to the wraith. Lucan-Cyris crossed his arms over his chest, apparently satisfied with his part he played.

  Johan sputtered. “Traitor! I—I demand to be returned to my kingdom.”

  Weylan’s brows shot upward as he glared at the king with derision. “You have no kingdom. Resistors from Eira followed you here, Johan, and every single one of the fifty or so soldiers you managed to drag with you are dead or will be when Lucan finds the ones who have fled. Your people have rejected you, and a new king sits at the throne.”

  “You lie.”

  Riaan cleared his throat to interrupt. “King Johan, tomorrow you will be released from our care. You will be escorted to your kingdom to be tried for your crimes.”

  Weylan pulled a rolled parchment from his pocket. His voice raised, traveling the length of the room. People slowed in their work to hear. “If I may, Your Majesty.” He addressed the growing audience. “By order of the king of Eira—”

  Johan’s hairy chest rose a
nd fell like an overstuffed walrus. “Excuse me?”

  “—I, General Weylan Laphel, am commanded to return Johan Drakara to the kingdom of Eira to be tried by the people.” A murmur erupted through the crowd. “If there be any damages sustained to the people or property within the kingdom of Anolyn due to the criminal Drakara, the good king of Anolyn may send any representatives he chooses and add those witnesses for or against the fallen king.”

  “How dare you.” Johan’s mouth opened and closed as his eyes flashed about the witnesses in the room. He pointed a finger to the recently promoted Weylan. “And just who is this new leader of Eira? Who steals my crown?”

  Weylan’s eyes shot to me and an apology crossed his features. “Toma Drakara.”

  The throne room erupted with gasps and a rumble of voices, growing in number. Anolyn’s citizens buzzed, their excitement mingled with confusion and fear. Their gawking eyes turned to glimpse my reaction.

  But I had already hardened into a mask of control. Inside was another story entirely. Nausea threatened my composure when my heart dropped to the pit of my stomach.

  “What madness is this?” my uncle asked. His hand gripped the material at his chest. “My younger brother was murdered by that beast you just witnessed, and yet you say he is resurrected?” But even as he spoke, I could hear the deceit he masked with hysteria. He lied.

  “Oh, no, Johan. We found where you stashed him and freed him. Your brother Toma is very much alive. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  Rebellion gleamed within Johan’s eyes.

  My head spun, my claustrophobic thoughts suffocating the life from me. I swallowed against the anxiety lodged deep within my throat.

  Three months ago, I was a bastard child and an orphan. I always had been. But if what Weylan said was true…

  Castiel’s fingers touched my wrist, grounding me to reality.

  Again, Weylan’s eyes found mine. “I’m sorry.”

  “Take him,” Riaan said.

  My emotional barriers cracked. I closed my eyes and allowed Castiel to guide me to him. He wrapped me in his arms, eager to soothe, and I allowed it.

  “Stop her!”

  My eyes flew open.

  Surprisingly fast, a healed Deylah broke through the gawking crowd and rushed toward Johan. Light glinted from the steel in her hands. Before anyone could think to react, she jammed the knife between his shoulder blades then ripped it from his flesh. Johan howled in pain, rearing back. In another fatal movement, the pryor threaded her hand past his arms and sliced his exposed throat.

  Light exploded inside my mind, my breath ripped from my lungs. Castiel lunged forward, but he was too late.

  The king of Eira fell to his knees, the air bubbling from his sliced windpipe.

  Deylah dropped the knife. It clattered to the ground before its victim followed suit.

  A smile tipped one corner of her lips. She appeared almost at ease when the guards wrestled her to the floor and cuffed her bloodied arms. Amid the chaos, my grandmother’s head turned to me, her silvery-blue eyes finding mine. A single word blew past her paling lips.

  “Evil.”

  New Regime

  Smoke from a dying fire wafted my direction. I coughed against its attack.

  “Are you alright there, Princess?”

  I ignored Siana’s annoyed question and continued rolling up our canvas tent. It was relatively small, but big enough to fit me and my new lady’s maid.

  “It’s just amazing,” she continued, sighing dramatically. “The further we get into your county, the uglier and colder it becomes.” Every moment that passed, the assassin’s attitude became increasingly foul.

  Not that I blamed her. I wasn’t that far behind.

  I bundled my chin down into my thick wool cloak that did little to protect against a chill. Nothing was pretty in the Varian Forest. It was an excruciating six-day trek from Anolyn’s Castle to my home in Eira—excruciating not because of the distance or the hardship of traveling with barely any rest, but because of what we marched toward. How often had I told myself I would never go back?

  A pair of black boots stopped in the dirt next to me. “Need help?” Castiel asked.

  “Of course not,” I snapped.

  He helped anyway, which only made me feel guiltier. My hostility was to Riaan’s assassin, not my betrothed. Or was he my betrothed still? I didn’t have the courage to ask.

  “The princess is just taking her time,” Siana said, her breath a visible cloud. “Basking in her good fortune.”

  My jaw tensed. “And what good fortune would that be?”

  She hummed. “Good point.” Her smile vexed. She stood to claim the finished product from Castiel. “I’ll take care of the rest, Your Greatness.” She spun on her heel and went to the waiting horses to pack.

  I wiped the dirt from my hands on my pants, mumbling. “At this point, I’d take the seer’s company over the assassin’s.”

  Castiel’s fingers clasped mine, sending a jolt of electricity through my frozen core. Our contact had been minimal since before our departure from Anolyn, but there had been little time between burying the dead and readying for the next week’s travel. Captain Mikael, Reese, Siana, a procession of two hundred armed soldiers of Anolyn, and another hundred from Eira’s resistance followed General Weylan, me, and my uncle’s carriage to my motherland. King Riaan and his future bride stayed behind to calm their people, prepare their nuptials, and plan for the Wraith Queen’s next attack.

  Siana would bear my trials of a new family with me but was irritated about being discarded as the king’s assassin. I had a feeling her reassignment had more to do with her less-than-friendly relationship with Riaan’s fiancée, but the king said he wanted a spy within Toma’s home.

  The prince drew me away from my fire and the hosts of soldiers readying for travel, but we didn’t go far. I peered to the boughs of the trees, searching for the falcry that had followed us into the forest before disappearing.

  “Have you seen Ketrina?” I asked.

  Tension rippled from him. “Not since yesterday.”

  “I’m worried about her.”

  “I’d be more worried if she followed us from the protection of the forest. She’ll be fine.”

  He pulled me behind a tree whose trunk was wider than three people. Gently he coaxed me closer to him, forcing my gaze—not that I minded. He was resplendent in lower-ranking military garb and a plain wool cloak to match those of his soldiers. Although, he’d be resplendent in just about anything.

  His thick black hair was already combed, and he smelled of campfire, soap, and leather. “Remember, you had a choice.” His deep voice was a soothing balm to my internal wounds. My heart melted to his concern.

  My fingers caressed his chiseled jaw, tracing a line to the tip of his chin. “And anger the new king of Eira?” I asked with raised brows.

  His expression darkened. Penetrating blue eyes examined my face, ending at the scar on my neck. He tipped his head forward, resting it against mine, his lips so close I could almost taste them. I froze, allowing the momentary comfort, my insides a cauldron of emotions. His hands slid up my arms and I closed my eyes, breathing in his essence and enjoying the sensation that was all him.

  Heat followed his touch over my shoulders and up my neck. Cautiously his thumbs traced my cheeks, his breath warm against my mouth, but nothing more. I opened my eyes to the intensity of his as he watched me, hesitation deep within him. Then I realized what that hesitation was. He waited for me.

  I slid my arms around him and raised on tiptoes, bringing my lips to his. Soft at first, I reveled in the sensation. His calloused hands—the hands of a powerful leader—cupped my face with such a gentle touch that it caused tears to prick the back of my eyes. With a muffled groan, I tightened my grip on him and deepened the kiss.

  He responded with more than gratifying eagerness, his desperation matching my frantic feeling. There was nothing soft about how his mouth moved against mine, or how h
e held me to him, but that only made it all that much better. Would I ever feel this again?

  Castiel broke away first, wrapping me in his stable arms. His heavy breath matched the beating of our combined hearts. His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “You don’t have to return, Ilianna. You don’t owe that to anyone. You can stay—”

  I shook my head, hating the words before they even left my mouth. “I have to find out… see him for myself. If this king is truly my father—”

  “He’s your father, Ilianna.” Weylan’s voice crashed down on me, dousing my moment with the prince like a cold bucket of water. He led my horse behind him, with a sour expression and no apology for the interruption. “And he wishes to see you.”

  My spine straightened as I glared at the interloper. “And it has to be you that takes me to him?”

  His chin lifted as his eyes narrowed. “It was his wish.”

  My attention caught upon additional movement. Only yards away, a demon took shape. Its dark silhouette peeked from beyond the trunk of a tree, watching our interaction. Its red eyes smiled at me. Another wafted into view behind the first, but it only hovered a moment before disappearing. If I searched, I would find more than just the two. Hundreds surrounded us. I had seen them.

  We have one in our midst more cursed than they, Melora had said.

  Perhaps they stayed away because of my presence, or they waited for the commands of their cursed leader. Either way, it didn’t matter.

  I took a step back from Castiel, loathed the forced distance, and scowled at Weylan. “You could have told me my father was alive.”

  I snatched the reins from his grip and mounted.