Blood Ties Page 28

  Chadwick smiled once more. “I crossed the war hammer with the insurgency weapon tech, so each vampire you cut down will give the weapon more strength.”

  Darian raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning up in a smile. He twirled the hammer in the air, fast enough to send a blast of wind rushing through the room.

  “Holy shit…” Robin whispered, eyes wide at the display of force.

  Chadwick turned to Robin next and approached her with a slim circle of metal in his hands. “For you, Lady Robin, I give you my patented interpretation of mortal-hide-saving armor.”

  Robin’s eyes flashed with her smile as she looked at the slim crown that came down to a point on the front, a single rhinestone embedded in the crest. “Thank you, Chadwick.”

  “Try it out before you thank me,” he said with a grin.

  “Okay then,” Robin said, slipping the crown over her head, a funny expression on her face as everybody in the room watched her. “Is it… I don’t know, is it on?”

  Chadwick bent over and scooped up a rock, chucking it at Robin as hard as he could, which was not very hard for Reykon and Lucidia’s standards, evidenced by their carefully concealed smiles. Robin flinched, bringing both hands up as the armor’s protective barrier absorbed the impact, shimmering slightly, and then letting the rock plunk to the ground.

  Robin’s eyes were wide as she inspected her arms, her hands, looking for any sign of damage. “Oh my God, Chadwick, this is insane!”

  Chadwick gave a little bow. “It’s the least I can do, and honoring caster traditions makes me feel good about all the treason I’ve committed.”

  It was true that casters had a famous history of giving gifts. They were always pushing new inventions, new trinkets, to any audience they could find. Normally vampires and strongbloods were wary about accepting gifts from casters before they were tried and true tested, but Chadwick had quickly grown to become a part of their team, and Reykon considered him to be one of the greatest friends he had.

  Robin bumped his shoulder and leaned over, whispering in his ear. “Would it be weird to ask for a group picture?”

  He gave her a funny look. “A what?”

  “Like a picture of all of us,” she said, pulling her camera out of the bag they’d brought from the mirror dimension. “You know, before the battle.”

  “I have never had my picture taken,” Darian said with a smile.

  “You’re kidding!” Robin gasped. “Not even when photography came out?”

  “When photography came out, it involved explosions and flashes of light. We were hesitant to participate in such… eccentricities.”

  “Now we have to,” she said, ushering Reykon and Lucidia over to the rest of them. Chadwick fell in next to Ezra, and Robin checked the lighting before bringing the camera up.

  “Hang on,” Reykon said. “What about you?”

  “I’m taking it,” she said with a smile.

  “Oh, but then you won’t be in it!” Chadwick protested, cracking his knuckles. “This looks like a job for me.”

  “How?” she asked, a moment before the camera flew out of her hands and positioned itself in front of the group.

  Reykon snagged Robin’s arm, pulling her over just in time for the camera to shutter once, much to Chadwick’s amusement.

  “Not yet!” Robin laughed, hugging Reykon and grinning uncontrollably.

  “How long do we have to stand here?” Lucidia asked.

  “On three!” Chadwick said.

  Everybody quieted, smiling just in time for the shutter to sound out again. Robin broke away, grasping the camera and staring at it for a moment. Reykon recognized the look on her beautiful face, that look of sheer awe and admiration, the look of passion. And then, she laughed.

  “It looks like a renaissance painting.”

  “Can we see?” Ezra asked.

  She brought the camera over, passing it to each member, watching everybody’s faces light up with the image.

  “How…” Darian began. “Where does it print?”

  “Well, it doesn’t print from the camera,” Robin said, giving him a funny look. “You have to upload it and then… wait, have you used a computer?”

  “Maxine has been trying to get me ‘hooked up’ to such technologies for years, but I have no patience for them.”

  “You’ve never been on the internet?” Robin balked.

  “I see no need to participate in such trends.”

  “It’s not a trend,” she said.

  Lucidia rolled her eyes. “It won’t help. They don’t think technology’s here to stay unless it’s been around for centuries.”

  “You’re missing out, Darian,” Robin said with a soft laugh.

  The vampire shrugged and gestured to the camera. “I do not know how you go about printing your pictures, but when the battle is over, I would like a copy of it.”

  Robin grinned that same smile he’d seen on their wedding day, under the golden sun, and when they’d played monopoly, rum kissing the air between them. He couldn’t help but smile along with her, his grip on the sword tightening, a reflex when the thoughts of war inevitably crept into his mind.

  Chapter 15 Loss and Gain

  Megan

  It had been two days since the night she’d nearly been attacked.

  Ever since Magnus had stopped her from jumping off the balcony, she’d been trying to shake this feeling; this dangerous, dangerous feeling that had raked its claws around her heart and clung to her like a demon.

  Rage. Hatred. Hunger.

  And the face on top of all that anger was no longer her own. It wasn’t her mother’s, nor her grandmother’s, and it wasn’t even Fausta’s. It was Ryan’s face that she pictured when that boiling rage crept up in her mind. She spent her time thinking about all the ways she could hurt him, all the ways she could kill him, slowly, listening to him make the noises that Magnus made, watching him as afraid as she must have been those two times their paths had crossed. There were plenty of ways to kill vampires, after all. But she couldn’t kill Ryan with the other vampires standing around, otherwise she would die too, and it wouldn’t be a mercy killing, that was for sure.

  Megan had also discovered an interesting fact: she didn’t want to die. Actually, she was mortally terrified of it, and coming so close to a swan dive off the balcony might have been exactly what she needed to keep on living, because something inside of her had snapped after that night. She was only sixteen, almost seventeen, but she wasn’t a kid, and this wasn’t a game. Megan knew that now. She only hoped it wasn’t too late. The door bolting drew her attention. She looked over to the entry of the suite and saw Duncan and three other royal vampires. Todd pushed himself up, and even Magnus stirred, his brown eyes silently watching, his ears always listening. Megan let her gaze linger on the deep purple bruises that marred his skin, the angry welts where he’d been beaten because of her drunken mistake. She shifted her gaze to the vampires at the door, sitting up straight.

  Duncan turned to them, a sad greeting-smile etched onto his face. “No cause for concern,” he assured them. “We will all be staying within the confines of this area until the situation is handled.”

  “Situation?” Todd asked.

  “Just some rowdy wolves. It’s what happens when you keep kennels in the palace,” one of the royals said nonchalantly. After a moment, his gaze flicked to Megan. “No offense to you, dear.”

  She didn’t reply. The vampires shuffled forward, sitting on the elegant velvet chairs and couches, their eyes fixed on the fire. Duncan moved silently to the windows, watching the horizon for a long stretch before joining them. Megan cast a glance back to Todd, who simply shrugged, donning a robe before coming to sit next to her. The morning sun cut through the massive windows and French doors, sending light beams and prismed rainbows scattered in a mosaic across the wall.

  “Honestly, I don’t know what she thought would happen,” the royal next to Duncan said. Megan recognized him as Victor from the antechamb
er.

  “She has a sizeable sum,” a female royal mentioned, raising her stern eyebrows. “Estimates tell us that Darian has less than ten thousand, many of them unable to lift a sword.”

  “The silver haired king will not be dethroned so easily, Philomena,” the royal sitting next to her scoffed.

  Megan’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t heard such flagrant disrespect from members of Fausta’s support. In fact, she hadn’t heard any such disrespect towards the vampire queen.

  “If we go by numbers…” Philomena echoed.

  “But not all warriors are created equal,” the other royal hummed. He looked to be the oldest out of the group, dark hair and a roman nose and dull red eyes that seemed unimpressed with everything in sight. “I hear that the storm breaker has brought on two untethered strongbloods.”

  Victor scoffed. “A man so desperate as to shirk our laws and live next to a loaded cannon… maybe he will pull the victory out of thin air.”

  “At least that blonde bitch has been dealt with,” Philomena hummed, her eyes intent on the crackling fire. “I was wondering how long Fausta intended to toy with her prey. It’s for the good of us all.”

  “Darian might not have the numbers, but he does know how to inspire loyalty in his warriors. A leader like that is not to be trifled with.”

  Victor gave Duncan a funny smirk. “The peasant queen has certainly made a reputation of trifling with Darian Xander’s affairs. It’s a little late for decorum, wouldn’t you say?”

  Megan’s breath caught inside of her. The peasant queen? she thought in confusion. She’d seen Fausta rip the tongue out of a Xander supporter for calling her the equivalent. But Fausta wasn’t here, and Megan was starting to catch onto that. A sinking feeling rooted in her gut, and she looked to the windows, searching the sky, reminded of her time in prison. From what she’d pieced together, Fausta had known that Darian Xander would have gone into hiding because of the caster attack (whatever happened there) and took advantage of his stronghold during his absence. She’d been locked in the prison the whole time, but now her mind wondered if it had been like this on the topside. If there had been growing angst and violence, growing sentiment against Darian while he was off doing God knew what God knew where.

  After a few moments, Todd sighed and slipped his hand into hers. “Let’s go get some air, huh?”

  Victor leaned over from the couch, gesturing their way with a glass of sherry. “Don’t forget a jacket. It’s getting cold out there.”

  “Thanks,” Todd said with a smile, grabbing one of the extravagant fur coats from the dressing rack.

  Megan’s wolf blood protected her against that, thankfully. But even as they slipped outside, she felt the chill nip at her nose. It was getting to be cold, and winter was dawning on them a little more each morning. Megan watched the frost-dusted lawn, sloping and scrolling in perfect hills and dips. Todd started the fire pit, coaxing it to life with a log from the ever-burning outdoor chimney. It was only a moment before he sat back on the lounger, his cheeks pink from the cold.

  “Cat got your tongue?” Todd joked.

  Megan shrugged, taking a step towards that balcony, her heartbeat creeping up inside of her chest. Closer she came, and closer still, until she stretched her trembling fingers out to the bannister and looked at the sheer drop in front of her. A wave of nausea rolled up and she turned away swiftly, nearly speed-walking back to the seats around the fire.

  “Megan?” Todd asked, watching her carefully.

  “Huh?”

  “Are you alright?”

  Megan swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Sure about that?”

  She let her eyes snap to his, holding his gaze for a moment before looking back to the fire. “What was it like, when Mistress Fausta invaded?”

  He raised an eyebrow, pulling the cloak tighter around him. “I don’t really like to think about it,” he muttered.

  Megan braced her forearms on her knees, watching the flames lick higher into the air, watching the smoke unravel against the crisp sky.

  After a short silence, Todd sighed. “It was the scariest thing I’ve ever been through. I thought - well, I thought we were all going to die.”

  Megan nodded. “How did it happen?”

  “They airlifted in, and then slowly worked their way up the castle. I spent the whole time on the fourth floor, with the other heirs, a couple royals, and the rest of the blood slaves. Truth be told, I was drunk for most of it.”

  “When… when did you know it was over?”

  She could see the anguished memories in his eyes when he responded. “Fausta and her vampires came in and… selected whichever blood slaves they wanted to keep. I was fortunate enough to be one of them.”

  “Fortunate,” Megan muttered bitterly.

  “Hey,” Todd said, drawing her attention with a snap of his fingers. “Yes, fortunate. We’ve both been very fortunate, for the circumstances.”

  Megan nodded, contemplating that bitter pill, stuck in her throat. The door opened and Duncan stepped out, nodding to them. He walked over to the balcony and stretched both hands across it, admiring it for a moment before fixing his gaze on the horizon. Megan watched him silently, studying his face, his green tailored coat and elegant clothes and all the things that she realized she found infuriating about the vampires. But even in her anger and resentment, she couldn’t force herself to hate Duncan. Not like she hated Ryan, and not like she hated Fausta for forcing her to hurt Clay. To destroy Clay. Because to her, Duncan seemed just as trapped, just as scorned and cast out as the rest of them. A loud crash of glass echoed from the first floor, and Megan stiffened in alarm, looking to him.

  Another sad smile curved on his lips. “It’s just a little squabble. The heirs and guards will handle it and let us know when it’s safe to go down.”

  Megan narrowed her eyes. After a few moments, Duncan gave her a side glance, raising an eyebrow. “Would you like to ask me something?”

  She dropped her gaze, catching Todd’s discrete head shake and ignoring it. Megan rose, her feet padding against the freezing stone of the patio as she came up to Duncan’s side. “What’s happening down there?”

  “We’ve been assured that it’s just the servants, getting restless,” he said quietly.

  Megan wasn’t buying it, and she felt jumpy, grumpy, and antsy all at the same time. She felt like she needed to run, to burn off the hate and anger that had festered inside of her. “Why is it happening, Duncan? What aren’t you telling us?”

  She could feel Todd’s eyes, burning holes into her back, the tension he was shooting her way thick enough to slice, but she ignored it. Without the fear that Fausta and Ryan instilled in her, she was finding it harder and harder to watch herself around the vampires.

  He let out a long breath. “When Fausta charged off into war, who do you think she took with her?”

  Megan shrugged. “Her vampires?”

  “Yes,” he said with a small nod. “But not just any vampires. See, she really shouldn’t have gone down to House Albus at all. The only reason she has the numbers she does is because she took every vampire with combat experience and all the wolves whose children and family are still here.”

  Anger and disgust coiled deep in Megan’s belly at the thought of the wolf children, down in the dungeon, so many floors below.

  “She took them all, and she left, and in doing so, only the least valued, the least reliable members of her service remain here. Order is difficult to maintain in a race that has a penchant for entropy, but it’s even more difficult when the castle is full of creatures that do not have confidence of Fausta’s return, and thus, no reason to respect neither her law nor order.”

  Megan’s eyebrows drew together, and Todd rose, walking over to them with a concerned expression. “What exactly are you saying?”

  Duncan’s own concern was betrayed in his roiling red gaze. “I am saying that there is turmoil brewing underneath us, and if it continues to go un
checked, it will not matter whether Fausta wins or loses against Darian Xander. At least, it won’t matter for us.”

  “Us?” Megan asked.

  Duncan’s sharp retort was bitter, snapping in the air like a whip. “Look around you, Megan. We are all trapped on the same sinking ship. I cannot speak for you, but for my own part, after so many years in service, after garnering such an esteemed reputation for my house and honor, and after seeing it squandered over the course of a few short months, I have no intention of drowning with the vessel.”

  Another crash sounded out from the stories below, and Megan leaned over the railing, ignoring the burgeoning fear in her chest. She could just make out the glinting shards, spread in a chaotic blast from the window.

  Robin

  She’d ventured topside, her strongblood disguise still in full effect as she cracked jokes with Max about the photo. That was when they’d gotten the alert. By alert, she meant a panicked strongblood, racing into the command center, and spurting a stream of gibberish about some execution. They went out in the hallway, running towards the French doors. There was a crowd the size of Connecticut pressed against the windows and the banister of the outside courtyard. Darian was front and center, along with his generals. Robin spotted Reykon and Lucidia a few feet down the line, and she sprinted for them, muscling her way up to the front of the crowd.

  Once she looked out on the field, she understood the cause for alarm.

  A sea of wolves, clad in thick metal armor, snarled at them. Behind the wall of muscle and fang stood Fausta herself, all wicked beauty and cold eyes, and surrounding her were nearly three thousand vampires, wearing body armor, their eyes burning like rubies. They’d erected a platform, like she and her goons were going to put on some play.

  Robin’s heart started pounding, faster and faster, louder and louder, as fear coiled in her gut. She’d known there was going to be a battle. That was what they were preparing for, for God’s sakes, and that was what they’d pledged their help with. But she’d never seen anything like this before. Robin squeezed her hand into a fist, the rings that both concealed her true appearance and blocked her vampire-attracting magnetism digging into her skin. A cold breeze lashed through the field, and even though it was only three p.m., the sky seemed to thicken, goosebumps prickling at her skin.