Sovereign

by Anne Schlea

  Kristoff glances back at Runa, curious to see what her reaction is. She’s grimacing. “Great. Just great. Britta, I like. She can stay. Can’t you try to keep Torhild out of your town?”

  “Have I ever been able to keep you out?” Zartan raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms over his tailored shirt, but his tone is still playful. “If I remember correctly, I’ve ordered you out of my territory no less than a dozen times, yet here you are.”

  Runa’s lips turn up in a slight grin, sending waves of relief over Kristoff. He thought he’d never see her smile again. She shrugs and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Good point, but you like me.”

  “How about we focus on our own people.” This time, Kristoff does lean against the arm of the sofa, his hand reaching out to lightly touch Runa’s shoulder. It’s a compulsion, this need to touch her to make sure she’s okay. He’s afraid she’ll shy away from him. Thankfully, she doesn’t. She glances up to meet his eyes, then focuses back down on her tea. “Have you spoken to Marcus lately?”

  “Not recently, Nevada’s been quiet ever since our troubles started here.” Zartan takes a seat facing the two of them. Whatever game he’s playing with Runa seems to have come to an end for now. “I sent him a message when I moved the family here a few years ago, occasionally he needs help keeping things in line around Las Vegas. It’s been a while.”

  “Are we sure he’s still alive?” It’s an honest question. For centuries, vampires had little to do with each other. They were as solitary as the valkyrie, living alone or with one or two others. Antonia’s family was the first to form a clan; others saw the defensive benefits and did the same until seven vampire families were formed. There are still loners, vampires who choose to walk without a family, but most of those live under the radar as much as possible. In recent years, however, the clans had kept mostly to themselves. It’s possible Marcus had abdicated or been killed and none of the vampires outside of his own clan had heard.

  “Despite out current…situation, I feel certain someone would have let us know if he’d been killed or replaced as Toiseach.” Joseph finally speaks. He hesitates, thinking hard before he continues, and when he does, his words are hesitant. “More likely he’s laying low, doing his best to keep himself out of the war with the nosferatu. That’s what I’d do if I were in his place.”

  “That’s a good point.” Kristoff’s mind starts to wander, his hand warm where it sits on Runa’s shoulder. He wants more, to hold her in the shelter of his arms, but knows that isn’t possible right now. Not with her still so broken and Zartan sitting six feet away. “Name your time and place. I’ll reach out to the clans that boarder mine. You reach out to Marcus.”

  “I’ll leave you now.” Zartan stands from his chair, giving Kristoff the uncomfortable feeling that he’d read his mind. While Kristoff has the ability to read the minds of most humans, he doesn’t like the idea someone could exercise the ability against him. Antonia stands with Zartan, her hand sliding comfortably into his, a move Kristoff watches with covetous jealousy. “I’m sure Runa needs her rest, and you look a bit worn out, too. Between your guards and mine, I’m confident that both of you are safe here.”

  As he watches Zartan let himself out of the suite, the rest of the meeting following behind, Kristoff realizes the vaguely coded message he just gave him. Kristoff does need rest. He can’t remember the last time he slept – really slept. Even now with Runa here, in his home, he does little more than nap on the sofa while Dinah sits with her. He’s afraid to close his eyes and relax too fully, afraid they’ll come and take her away again.

  He can’t protect her if he’s too exhausted to think clearly. He can’t take care of her if his body won’t comply. He needs to eat properly and get a good night’s sleep as soon as possible.

  He wonders if it was the same for Zartan when Antonia was almost killed by Richard. How many sleepless nights had Zartan paced the halls and grounds of his mansion, terrified she might leave this life, and him, behind?

  Kristoff shakes himself from the maudlin thoughts. Touching Runa gently on the head, he stands. “I’ll go find something to do, to give you your space. I know you don’t like me hovering. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Do you want to watch a movie?” Her voice is soft, hesitant. He’s not sure she spoke at first, thinking maybe he’d imagined her request. But then she looks up at him, the blanket stretching tightly around her as she tugs at it nervously. Her eyes dart around the room to keep from meeting his. “I know it isn’t our…thing…but I don’t really want to be alone in my head.”

  He’s startled. Her eyes finally reach his, pleading with him not to move away. This isn’t normal. Runa doesn’t plead, or ask, for anything. She commands. She expects him to do as she wishes, usually expecting him to read her every-changing mind and moods while he does it. She never requests.

  “Sure.” Meaning to sit back in the chair so not to cramp her space on the sofa, she stops him with a hand on his arm. He watches her scoot down, leaving him space where she’d just been.

  “Here.” Runa tugs at his hand, encouraging him to sit beside here. Her grip is soft, gentle, human-like, but insistent. She wants him to sit close to her. “Sit here.”

  Kristoff slides into the space left vacant. It’s still warm from her body heat, something that sends shivers down his spine. She grabs a pillow from the opposite end of the sofa to place in his lap. Then she lays her head down on top of it, her blond hair spilling across his legs. She tucks it under her ear, away from her eyes and takes a deep breath, relaxing. Unsure of what to do, Kristoff lays a gentle hand on top of her head. Using the remote, Runa turns something on the television, but it never registers in Kristoff’s mind. He’s too focused on the feel of her hair beneath his hand, and too grateful that she’d let him sit with her like this.

  In the midst of these thoughts, Runa does something even more shocking. She reaches out and takes his right hand, lacing their fingers together, before she releases a second a soft sigh. Her body relaxes against Kristoff’s legs and the sofa, releasing tension he didn’t even realize she’d been holding.

  Kristoff pushes the door to the bedroom open, and he’s as excited as someone on Christmas morning about to watch someone they love open the present of their dreams. He knows, more than diamonds or fast cars, this surprise is something Runa’s too afraid to ask for. He finds Runa sitting on top of the covers, flipping through a magazine. Most of the bruises have started to fade despite her lack of energy; she has yet to venture farther than the sofa in the other room.

  She looks up and smiles, her magazine forgotten. “Are you leaving?”

  “Not right now.” He hates the necessity to work when his instinct screams to stay nearby, but the hotel needs to run efficiently – a difficult task when guests and staff alike are more than human. While he trusts one day it will run well without his attentiveness, for today he must tour the business daily. Holding his cell phone out to her, he smiles. “I have a surprise for you, but you only get a few minutes, nosh.”

  Runa’s brow wrinkles, but her eyes sparkle. Like all of her kind, she likes gifts and surprises. The more expensive or rare, the better. He knows she’ll like this. No one else in the world is getting a phone call like this. Pushing the magazine aside, she reaches out her hand to take the phone. “Hello?”

  Immediately, her face lights up and he thinks she might squeal with delight if he hadn’t been standing in the room.

  “Stephanie!” There’s a happiness to her voice he hasn’t heard since she woke up. While it sends knives through his soul that he can’t give her that kind of joyful response, he’s grateful to hear it, nonetheless. She scrambles upright in the bed, her eyes lighting up with the sparkling life he’s come to expect from her. Her voice is almost breathless. “Are you really in Russia? Isn’t it terrible?”

  He quietly shuts the door behind him and leaves Runa to her privacy. He trusts Stephanie will keep her eyes on the clock and keep the conversation limited.
While he assumes someone will have guessed by now where Stephanie and Arthur had hidden, Russia is a big country and the maji territory is all but uncharted. Phone calls can still be traced, they must be careful.

  God forbid if anything happens to Stephanie or that baby. Hell to pay doesn’t begin to describe the ramifications. Arthur just might start Armageddon.

  “She’ll appreciate that phone call.” Britta is standing by the patio door, studying her nails. Kristoff is beginning to suspect that repetitive movement is their way of looking unnoticeable; just another girl checking the salon’s work. What they’re really doing is testing the room, checking for danger, listening to conversations. After a moment, she looks up at Kristoff, one eyebrow raised. “You’re gentle with her. Not like other men.”

  Kristoff regards her, unsure of how to respond. “I don’t know what to say to that. Is that good or bad?”

  “Good.” She smiles and drops her hand, dispensing of the pretense. Her long blond hair moves shifting in the breeze from the open balcony door behind her. She looks so much like Runa he wonders if they truly are blood sisters, but then dismisses the thought. Britta is older, far older, he suspects. “I like you. Most men would be quick to brag they bed a valkyrie. You’ve kept the secret longer than I thought it could be kept, and at the cost of your own happiness. That is an honor to my sister. I hope she understands that.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Kristoff breaks eye contact with Britta and moves toward the sideboard and his vodka. He needs to do something to keep from looking back at her. When in doubt, drink. “Runa and I were a one-time thing, an accident at that.”

  “You weren’t as careful as you thought you were.” She walks toward him, he can hear her crossing the suite toward the dining table and sideboard. Stopping a few steps away from him, he can almost hear her eyes scrutinizing him. She’s watching for a weakness, an admission she’s right. “I stumbled on you, years ago, and saw what you had. It wasn’t hard to see it wasn’t the first time and I can see now that it wasn’t the last. These last few weeks, I can also see how much her way of life costs you. You want to protect her, keep her safe, like any mated vampire male. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone from any species fight so hard against their nature for someone else’s happiness. It’s fascinating.”

  “We’re not mated.” He turns to look at her, desperate to defend himself from the truth. Runa had always been clear, there are consequences for relationships among the valkyrie. He won’t be the reason for more pain. He doesn’t know what they would do to her but based on what he’s seen recently it can’t be easy or nice. He doubts they’ll throw her a housewarming party and wish her well.

  “Maybe not.” Britta holds up a jar she’d brought with her. “But you’ve been seeing each other for a long time. Under the cover of darkness; you’ve done a good job for keeping it secret. Not as good as you thought you did, however. It was an accident, me finding out, but ever since, I’ve always known. I’ve always made sure the others didn’t.”

  A simple mason jar, filled to the top with clear liquid. Nausea courses through Kristoff’s body. He closes his eyes, fighting the urge to pass out or get sick. He’d thought they’d been careful. The complications they’d created to prevent from being seen. Letters hidden and left for weeks for the other to find. All for nothing.

  “I take no issue with you, vampire.” Britta’s voice softens, her head tilting to one side. The silver in her eyes calms to show the natural, mortal green. “Torhild does. You told her you’d had an indiscretion. She believes it to be more and she isn’t wrong; she’ll use that to punish Runa. I’ll delay her as long as I can, but she’s going to call a meeting of the valkyrie nation. She’ll use the issue with the nosferatu as the reason and then try to discredit Runa as weak once there. She could use it as a reason to kill her. You need to understand this.”

  “Because of me.” Kristoff sets the corn whiskey on the sideboard and leans against the wall, his stomach revolting against him. When did this get so complicated? Something that had started as a fun distraction had turned into a life or death gamble.

  “Partly.” She takes a few steps back to give him room. “She’ll say you were a distraction that made Runa sloppy. If it hadn’t been for you, she never would have been taken by the nosferatu. The two issues together make this dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” He looks back up at her and see her eyes have hardened. Valkyrie politics are at play here, he can feel it. Somehow, Runa threatens Torhild.

  “Valkyrie don’t accept weakness.” She shrugs and shakes it off, her eyes coming back into focus, her energy shifting back to playful. She’s closing him off and he knows it. “That’s all I can say about this. You’re going to need to help her heal.”

  “And how am I supposed to do that?” Kristoff takes a frustrated breath. Leading a horse to water doesn’t force it to drink. Telling Runa to get better won’t make it so. More likely, she’ll dig in her heels and fight against him.

  “Make sure she doesn’t see herself as damaged.” Britta taps the side of her head. “Our energy is all about the mental. When we doubt ourselves, we get weaker. She’s strong, stronger than any other valkyrie I know. Help her remember that. She’s going to need that strength to defeat Torhild.”

  “Defeat?” He frowns. “I thought you were all on the same team.”

  Britta hesitates long enough to make Kristoff wonder if her words had been by accident. She takes a breath and closes her eyes, deciding something. “The valkyrie are divided. Torhild has made us into something we are not meant to be – cold, vengeful, angry. Some believe it is time for a change and see hope in Runa because she’s never played by anyone’s rules. You, and her, have shown us that valkyrie can still love and be strong.”

  From the top of one of Atlanta’s tallest buildings, Serene looks down. She holds a cup of tea in an antique china teacup, her eyes watching humans walking along the street below. Atlanta isn’t a big city, not by the standards of New York, or Paris, or Tokyo, but its big enough to be her empire. For now. More will come, once she’s finished this conquest.

  A knock on her door causes her to turn from the window. She sets the cup of tea on her desk, then reaches up to smooth her hair, a habit leftover from the days she danced in one of Dimitri’s clubs. The bastard insisted every one of his dancers looked perfect at all times.

  Today her straight blond hair is twisted into a tight bun. Pearl earrings, light make-up, and an expensive gray business suit prove to the world she’d earned her spot in the penthouse office. Her days of dancing on a bar are behind her, and, from what she’s heard, behind Dimitri, too. The vampires might be her enemies, but she feels like she should send them a thank you card for ridding the rest of the world of Dimitri’s useless carcass. Females of every race should be grateful.

  “Come in.” Serene watches the door with cold, brown eyes. Standing tall behind her desk, she knows she looks impressive. That’s good. She’s through with being weak.

  Her secretary enters, a file in her hands. Equally beautiful, Jasmine allows her brown curls to fall down her back. It’s the only extravagance in appearance Serene will allow. Otherwise, Jasmine follows the dress code of business suit, simple jewelry, and light make-up. In this world, the one that Serene controls, there is no reason for excess adornment or beauty enhancements.

  Sirens rarely need extras to make them look beautiful. The stipulations put on them by their vampire and nosferatu masters are not to improve beauty, only to degrade and sell a product - the bodies of the women in the clubs. Belly-button rings to draw eyes downward and thoughts to body parts even lower. Bright lipstick to draw attention to the mouth. Sparkling body glitter across the chest.

  “The file you requested.” Jasmine sets the file down on the desk and bows her head, taking two steps back from the desk to wait. Centuries of servitude to the nosferatu and the vampires have beaten submission into most sirens.

  Serene grits her teeth and swallows the urg
e to berate Jasmine for the movement. It will take a long time to break the binding of their captors. Instead, she picks up the file and flips to the first page. “Thank you. Is there anything I need to know?”

  “The new lab is up and running.” She keeps her eyes on the floor, her hands clasped in front of her. “We are looking for a new test subject, but I don’t think we’ll be able to find another valkyrie.”

  “Maybe not right away, we’ll keep looking.” Serene scans over the documents in front of her, pursing her lips. The human doctor in charge of the tests is going to be difficult to control. Sooner or later they’ll need to cut him loose, to let the vampires have him to fulfill their sense of justice. As long as they keep the technology and test results, another doctor can be found. “Tell them to take what they can for now. Any research is valuable at this point in the process. We’ll need to be more choosey later.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jasmine nods, her eyes still on the ground. “Is that all, ma’am?”

  “For now.” She sighs, watching Jasmine back toward the door. “No, wait.”

  “Ma’am?” Her voice is solid, but Serene doesn’t miss her flinch.

  “You can look at my face.” Serene smiles and wills it to reach her eyes. “You don’t have to keep your eyes on the ground when you talk to me. We aren’t slaves of Dimitri anymore.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jasmine’s eyes flicker upward and meet Serene’s for a brief moment before they focus on the floor again. She’s following an order, not looking up out of confidence.

  Serene sighs. “You may go.”

  Without a word, she bows again and backs out the door.

  Once the door is closed, Serene picks up her teacup and sips the Oolong. The sirens had been enslaved for too long, most of them do not remember how powerful beauty can be. They see what she has done, the empire she has built, and don’t believe they will be able to do it. One day they will. One day, the sirens will be a strong nation again. They will never again be enslaved.