My empty stomach is happy to keep her secret, and I dig into the biscuits, almost groaning at how lovely they taste. They’re really nice, some sort of coconut flavour with chocolate. After we finish eating our biscuits, we get back to work.
“You’re late.” I jump out of my skin, dropping all the books on the floor at my feet as I turn and see Ziven leaning on the bookcase with his shoulder, his arms crossed tight. Catherine squeals, nearly tripping over her own cart.
Any conversation we had completely and utterly dies as I take Ziven in. Catherine drops her head. “Good evening, your majesty.”
He barely looks at her for a second. “That’s how you bow to a king, Storm. Take lessons.”
His sarcastic comment might have made me laugh if it wasn’t for the look in his eyes. He is mad about something, and I know it’s me that’s going to suffer for his bad mood in training tomorrow. “I just need to put these books away and—”
“I don’t give a shit about the books. Move,” he growls.
I swing on him. “Well, I give a shit about the books that need to be put away, because it is my job and I love it. So wait, or don’t. I can find my own way to the Moon Dynasty, considering you lock me in there often enough!” Catherine gasps in shock, and I ignore them both to pick up my books.
Catherine makes an excuse to leave, disappearing with her cart seconds later. I really, really don’t blame her. I can only imagine what Ziven looks like right now, imagine only because I don’t dare look back at him. I keep picking up books until his giant boots are right in front of me. After I pick up the final one, I look up at him. There’s nothing but pure, cold fury drawn on his face. He almost makes me wince. Almost. “What? What is wrong with you? You look…”
“I’m fine,” he snarls back at me. But if this is his version of fine, I really don’t know what not fine is. I thought maybe we might have come to some sort of agreement between us. Part of me was really hoping that what Fritz said was true and that he did tell him to back off. But the way he is acting now, no, he still hates me. Fritz trying to kill me was something they likely celebrated when he got back. Of all the people to survive this far, I hate that Fritz is one of them, especially after insulting Catherine when she did nothing.
I shake my head, start putting the books away, and the whole time, he glares at me. I feel like I’ve made a hundred mistakes and not put any of the books back where they’re meant to be with the pressure of his gaze drilling into my skull. By the time I’m reaching up to try to put the last one in, it’s so high that I might need to pull the ladders to be able to get to the fifth row. I feel his firm body at my back, the coldness that echoes from him spreading to me as a massive hand engulfs the book, taking it and easily pushing it into the gap I couldn’t reach. I turn around in the tiny space between the bookcase and Ziven as he’s completely cornered me in. He looks down at my face like he didn’t expect us to be this close. I didn’t expect this either. His scent engulfs me here, and I can’t breathe without taking more of him in, letting him close. I’m basically at the height of his chest, and if he moved one inch closer, his body would be completely pressed against mine, and I’d have nowhere to escape to. He leans down, a mask of indifference to me slipping over his features. “We’re leaving.”
He steps back, and I finally let out the breath I was holding in. He is shaking his head like he’s just lost the plot, and I might be right there with him. “Come along, traitor.”
I have to chase him down the library corridors. “Why do you call me a traitor? I’ve literally done nothing to be a traitor to you.”
“You’ve done everything you can to be a traitor,” he murmurs. “And for a second back there, I forgot who you’re pretending not to be.”
“Oh, right, the stupid spy idea,” I mutter, my heart racing. What would have happened if he did forget? Why do I want to find out so badly? I hate this man. This fae king who is cruel and coldhearted.
He doesn’t say a word to me as he storms out of the library, expecting me to follow. I don’t even get to retrieve the books from Mazzis, as he leaves so quickly, leading me down to the stairs to his apartments. We both stop as the doors to the apartment are wide open, and the twins aren’t there. No guard is there. “Where is Marcus?” Ziven’s furious growl echoes.
His boots slam on the floor as he walks through the open doors, and I follow him in, only to see him stop dead in his tracks. Ziven crouches down only a few feet from the door. “Marcus, what happened?” He pauses as I get to his side, only to see him going ghostly pale. My eyes drift from Ziven to the stranger, a dark-haired man who looks like he has a fever. His skin is red, sweaty and hot. He’s shaking slightly, muttering to himself with his eyes closed. But the strangest part is there are gold scales all over his cheek, glowing, glittering almost. Ziven looks at me. I can’t read his eyes, but I can feel the sadness coming off him. The fear too. “Fuck, you shouldn’t be here, Storm.”
“What is going on here?” Astrid’s voice echoes to us from the other side of the corridor. Ziven puts his hand up in the air, and a wall of silver flames, so clear it could be light itself, blocks her off from us, and the same silver flame wall goes up behind us, in front of the open apartment doors.
Ziven rises to his feet. “Evacuate to the lower floor and no one leaves. It’s the Chilgrave sickness. Marcus…he isn’t well.” Her skin pales almost as much as Ziven’s, and she covers her mouth, barely holding in the sob. The illness Daegan told me about, the one that kills them easily. He’s sick. A cry echoes from a short-haired woman, someone I don’t know, as she runs around Astrid. “No! Marcus, no!”
She slips out from Astrid’s grasp, and she slams her hands against the silver wall of flames, but it barely even moves. It doesn’t hurt her either. “Brother! No, not you. Not after all this time! We are so close!”
I can barely understand her wails, but they break my heart. I’ve pleaded for someone’s life once, begged and watched them die anyway. Astrid pulls the woman away. “Come on, let’s go. You can’t help him now. Let our king be there.” Astrid soothes her, leading her away, and when she is gone, Ziven locks the apartment doors.
He walks to my side as I hold Marcus’s hand. His eyes focus on that, and they darken. “I am immune, but you are not. May the deities be kind to us both, because we are going to fucking need it to survive being locked in here alone.”
Chapter Sixteen
Page Sixteen.
He has found the books.
I’m twenty-one on this birth year, and I finally might have a life that is worth living. Hope still feels like a foreign intruder in my mind, in my heart, as I pace by the window, knowing that everything’s going to change today. The queen is coming tomorrow, and hopefully, she’ll distract Emyr from searching for me. Not straight away at least. We’ll be long gone by the time he realises. I doubt he’ll just be able to abandon the castle and his mother to chase after his lost blood slave.
It’s all planned, everything’s perfect and in place. As long as nothing changes, I will escape. I’ve spent weeks scouring over the maps with every second that I got. I barely slept with the mixture of excitement and fear that sends my heart beating too fast. Emyr hasn’t noticed any change, thankfully, and keeping up the pretence around him has been difficult. Every time his teeth sink into my skin, every time he is inside me, I’m dreaming of freedom. Freedom that will never include him, never let him touch me again. There’s a small drawn path in my pocket on scratchy paper, marking a line through the town, using vampyre gardens to hide ourselves in the shadows. I’m going to get to see my mother today, the first time in so long. I can’t help but grin.
A knock on the door makes my smile drop, and I straighten, unsure who it is until I hear two taps. It’s the way Kyrell knocks when he wants me to run the shower so we can speak alone. Lewin comes in, shutting it softly behind him. We haven’t been alone before yet. I feel like I know him so well through Kyrell. His pin straight blond hair is neatly kept in a band at the back of his head, and his fangs are red, bringing out the red shine to his dark brown eyes. Vampyres don’t usually keep so much colour in their features like he has, but his skin is still drained of light, and there is a way about how he moves that marks him as a vampyre long before I see fangs. He loves Kyrell, I remind myself, and his actions prove to me that maybe this vampyre can love. “Are you ready to go, Story?”
For a second, I glance at my room, at the prison. I won’t forget this place. It will haunt me, but I am going to leave. The single word I breathe out might as well be fire, making my blood boil. “Yes.” I go to my wardrobe, and I quickly yank a small bag out. It is full of some plain working fae clothes that I’ve stolen from the castle servants, enough to last me a little while until I can replace all the red dresses. He hands me a black cloak, a guard’s cloak, and I clip it around my shoulders. I make sure to tuck my hair into the cloak so it can’t be seen, and pull the hood up. Lewin looks me over. “Be careful not to show your hair.” He pauses. “And it’s great to finally meet you, Story. Kyrell, he loves you like a sister, and I know you mean the world to him. Thank you for coming with us, for risking it.”
“I love him. He is my best friend,” I quietly answer. “He is the greatest person I’ve ever known, and he is very in love with you. I’m glad we have met finally.”
Lewin grins for a moment, our shared love of Kyrell linking us forever. He could be my friend too, even if I thought it was never possible for a vampyre. He goes to the door, stopping and looking back. “Follow me and stay close. The others are at the meeting point, and then we follow your plan through the city. We will celebrate freedom together, Story.”
“This doesn’t feel real,” I admit.
“It is.” Lewin touches my shoulder. “I’ve made sure the prince is distracted by the escalating problems in the city. He won’t be back until morning, and it will give us hours to get away.”
“Hours,” I repeat with a big grin. Hours before he knows; it’s enough time to get far away. Lewin opens the door, and we both step out of the room together, only to come face to face with a woman that I have never seen before. She’s beautiful, eerily beautiful. Silver locks of her soft hair are pulled up into a complicatedly braided bun on top of her head and a tiara full of red shining gems is perched in front. A beautiful gown falls off her, a mixture of reds and silvers, all woven together to make the bodice. Tiny little flowers fill the skirt, mixed with sharp thorns. The skirt itself flows out between us, and her teeth, nothing but pure silver fangs, flash as she speaks.
“I came early to see my son only to find his favourite blood slave is in a relationship with this vampyre and trying to escape?” Her voice is velvety soft as she crushes my hope and terrifies me all at the same time. She shakes her head, and her hair doesn’t even move. “That’s disgusting behaviour for a blood slave held in such high honour. My son will be so very upset.” She looks over her shoulder, and my heart pounds as guards fill both ends, blocking any chance of escape.
Sickness rises up my throat, and I cover my mouth. “Please.”
“You will greet me as your queen. Shush now, shush now. I won’t kill you. My son is far too fond of your blood and body, from what my spies tell me.” She comes closer in the blink of an eye, pulling down my hood. She touches my hair. “I can see why now. You have a beauty about you, and your blood…I will taste myself.” A sob wracks my throat, and my legs feel weak. “I will teach you a lesson. That is something I’m afraid is going to hurt. I’ve taught all my children how to be strong. I will do the same to you.”
“You will not touch her.” Lewin knocks the queen’s hand away and steps in front of me.
I barely get to scream before they fight. “NO!” I’m pushed out of the way as the vampyres fight, and I can barely make out what is happening. They move so fast, and even though she’s in a dress, I can tell she’s stronger, faster than Lewin. It stops when her fangs are in his throat, and she wastes no time before she rips it out. He falls to the floor with a thud, so much blood pouring out of his neck onto the carpet as I plaster myself to the wall. His glassy eyes stare right at me, and he is gone. There is no light there. I can’t stop crying, sobbing so hard my body is shaking with them, and I don’t notice the queen until she is grabbing my arm, yanking me upright.
“My guards have already gone to get my son, and together we will correct your behaviour. It is not your fault—my son has clearly been too kind to you. We will make sure that anyone that was going to help you is dead. He has not trained you well enough. That’s my fault. I should have been around and come to see you sooner.”
