Bloodthirsty Beloved: A Romantasy Standalone, page 11
Staring at the flour he’d just put on his cheek, I said, “I might be frivolous, but I still have a heart, Majesty.” I gave him a stern look. “I want to know, but anything you’re uncomfortable sharing is not something I need to know.”
That flush returned to his face. “I didn’t mean—”
I waved my hand and made to jump down from the bench.
“My father,” Brey said. “I killed him.”
Shock stilled me and halted the beat of my heart. When I looked at him, all I could think to ask was a soft, “Why?”
As if somewhere else, Brey stood like a statue, staring at the mess beside me.
Not fun indeed. Really, this wasn’t just a secret.
It was a crime not even a king should get away with.
No born vampire could kill their parents. Not without publicly losing their heads. Otherwise, I’d have likely tried to kill my own father long ago. It had been the law since the dawn of our creation—to keep born offspring from taking their parents’ wealth and control of their own futures.
And to keep us from delivering our own extinction.
A laugh left Brey, sudden and hollow and almost menacing.
I jolted.
“Everyone knows about King Exayn’s refusal to feed the wards and the gambling that never ceased. But they don’t know just how bad it truly was.” Still staring absently at the bench, he said, “That when the coffers were drained, he didn’t stop. Desperate to fulfill promises he’d broken and keep his head, he made it impossibly worse.”
My heartbeat slowed.
“Of course, few would dare to kill a king, but many certainly sought to abuse my father’s weakness. His…” He swept a hand over his salt-laden hair. “This sickness he’d had since before I was born.”
I’d never heard it put that way. Yet I supposed he was right. Such an addiction was indeed an illness.
“When I shifted for the first time, I knew the excitement in my father’s gaze had nothing to do with being proud of my soul-reveal. I was twelve years when he sent me on my first hunt.”
I gasped.
Brey gave me a weak smile. “For intel, lethal. I attended the Crimson Festival as a cat, kicked and chased for half of the night until I eventually found the made vampire my father had gotten dangerously indebted to behind a treat stall.” His shoulders drooped. “With an incredibly young human.”
I gripped the bench beside my legs. “Who?”
“Doesn’t matter now.”
Wide-eyed, I asked, “Why not?”
“Some years later, I killed him.” He rolled his lips between his teeth. “However, that was solely my choice.”
“So your father didn’t just have you spy for dirty details,” I realized aloud. “He had you kill his creditors.”
A slow single nod.
“That’s why you never attended events?” I asked. “Why no one ever really saw you?”
“You cannot have your best spy and assassin easily recognized.” Pointing at his eyes, he said, “These sort of give me away.”
Indeed.
Smirking, he swayed closer to poke my slack chin, then leaned next to me against the bench.
“But that only worked for so long. People began to talk, aware that my father had ways of getting around things. A few years ago, establishments started refusing him entry. So he sailed to the southlands, took my mother of course, and…” He swallowed, lashes lowering toward his cheeks.
Clasping the flour-smudged one, I brushed it clean with my thumb.
The southlands were home to farmers, manufacturers, small towns, and far more humans than vampires. Many mortals sought refuge and a quieter life there. But even more sought easy-made coin in the steady mayhem of the north.
“You needn’t say anything more.” I was beginning to understand where this was headed.
“I want you to know, and you should before we…” He blew out a breath, then placed his hand over mine at his cheek. He kept it there as he went on. “Even in the south, talk of my father’s dirty dealings circulated. He was permitted to try his luck, but when he lost, he wasn’t permitted to leave. Not until they took payment from my mother.” A half roll of his eyes accompanied his snide question. “Who could refuse an opportunity to play with the vampire queen?”
“Brey,” I whispered.
“I will spare you the details, though I think you can guess. Her death was no mystery. When they returned from the south, she tried, but I could see it—she’d reached her limit. She was gone before she took a blade to her own chest.” He lowered our hands and looked at them. “Though my father certainly deserved to suffer, I didn’t want the fading to take him. So I waited until everyone would believe it had, then I killed him as he wept in his bed.”
Horror lanced through me.
That this king, once known as a reclusive vampire prince, had been kept as a murderous pet explained a lot.
Yet it was also unimaginable. All Brey had missed out on. All he’d been forced to do and endure. Though I was still far from impressed that he’d stolen my life, I understood why he’d chosen the highest bidder.
I squeezed his hand.
His eyes shot to mine. A smile tried to form and failed. “Ethel, I…” With a cold whisper, he confessed, “I do not regret it. I want the isle—Mother, the entire world—to know that I killed him.”
“I want them to know as well.” I tugged him closer until he stood between my legs. “But this must remain a secret,” I warned. “Forever.”
Shadows gradually vacated his eyes as they searched mine. After some moments, he said, “You want to keep this secret.”
“It would be foolish of me not to.” I grinned up at him. “If your pretty head is removed, the fading will take me.”
He didn’t return my smile, nor remind me that I’d called him pretty. He stared down at me with eyes so bright, a scrutiny so severe, I was tempted to touch his cheek again to see if he was still here with me.
Instead, I smoothed my hands over his bare waist.
He tensed, then expelled a rushed sigh.
“Are my hands cold?” I asked.
“No, they just…” A harsh swallow bobbed his throat. “Feel too good.”
Slowly, I ran them up his sides, luxuriating in the gooseflesh I caused and the twitching of his muscles. “Did you loathe it?” I whispered. “Killing people.”
“Not as much as I should,” he murmured.
I tore my eyes off his divinely sculpted chest and looked at his.
He snuck his finger beneath my chin. Stroking it, he said, “Sometimes I rather enjoy it.”
My hands froze above his hips. “You…” Breath fled me, drowning my words. “You still do it?”
“There’s only so much royal guards can do.” His thumb brushed my bottom lip, callus tickling. “They swore oaths, you see.”
“As did you,” I said.
“To protect this isle and our existence by any means necessary.” A small smile tipped his lips. They descended toward mine. “So I do.”
“So you do,” I repeated, lashes fluttering.
His whisper washed over my lips. “Do you mind, lethal?”
“Not at all, Majesty.” Glossing my mouth across his, I met his gleaming gaze. “In fact, I like it.” I added, “Knowing, that is.”
His question taunted. “Do you?”
“I do.”
He hummed. “And how much do you like it?”
“So much, I’m beginning to feel utterly drenched with shame.”
Victory sang through my veins as he lost the battle, cursed, and crushed his mouth against mine with a groan.
“Merciless Mother,” someone shouted. “What have you done to my kitchen?”
I leaned back to find a short woman with brown hair pulled into a painful-looking bun standing in the doorway. A severe scowl ignited her blue eyes and crumpled her lovely features.
“Impeccable timing, Hanna darling.” Brey plucked the towel from his shoulder. “This is Ethel.” Turning to the oven to retrieve the pan, he said, “Ethel, this is my kind, caring, and incredibly forgiving cook.”
I fluttered my fingers at Hanna, then frowned as she appeared to pale.
Her head shook. “Apologies,” she muttered. “But you look just like the pain—”
“We simply must enjoy these while they’re warm,” Brey said with a sharp look at the cook. Holding the pan with the towel, he helped me down and led me from the kitchen. “I’ll return later to tidy up.”
“Liar,” she called after us.
Brey just laughed and pulled me along behind him.
There were some rooms in the palace I’d yet to venture into. The chalice room was one of them—courtesy of the perpetually locked door.
Dust motes floated across the rather small space and the glass case at its center. A stone stand, carved into the hourglass shape of Saltblood Isle, held the old cup that would somehow transport us to the islands containing the wards.
Age had speckled the golden chalice. Coral twined around the handles like lifeless blue serpents. Not only did it seem incapable of anything, but it was also hideous.
Brey stood before it with his hands tucked in the pockets of his black leather pants. “You’re late.”
“The wards have been waiting to be fed since your father’s reign.” The door creaked as I closed it behind me. “I doubt they’ll mind that I took my time deciding what to wear.”
Only when I stopped beside him did he look at me. His brows jumped.
I frowned. “What?”
“You’re wearing pants.”
“And?”
“You never wear pants.”
“There are things we must do and things I refuse to do.” I gazed down at my ensemble—a pair of olive britches, a flowing apricot blouse, and dimpled leather ankle boots. “And I must wear pants because I refuse to ruin one of my gowns for this.”
Amusement warmed his tone. “Not at all because wearing pants and boots is wise?”
My chin rose. “At least I’m not wearing a sword on my back.”
“I doubt you could, but I would greatly enjoy seeing you try.”
I made a face at the chalice. “Where did you find it anyway?”
“In the armory.”
Oh.
Eyeing the worn leather hilt peeking over his shoulder, I tried very hard not to imagine him swinging that blade at the worst this isle had to offer as I asked, “Do you use it often?”
“Often enough,” he muttered. “You’re wearing skin oil.”
“So?” I looked at his perfect face. “You moisturized.”
“Lotion doesn’t attract beasts.”
I snorted. “Yours certainly could. Besides, this room could do with something pleasant-smelling.” My nose scrunched. “It smells like no one has been in here since the wards were last fed.” Which would have been just over a century ago.
“Wouldn’t surprise me if that were true.”
Three aging paintings lined the walls—the isles housing the wards. Within each was a smear of vampire blood, marking where the wells resided. One mark was in the middle of an island, and the other two were closer to the edges. Save for cardinal directions, there were no instructions.
I looked back at the chalice. Dust almost hid the joined hands engraved in the stone stand, and what might have been blood seeping between them.
“Is there a letter somewhere?” Turning in a half circle, I asked, “Some sage guidance from your ancestors?”
But there was nothing else in the room. Just that ancient chalice, the stone stand, and those miserable excuses for maps.
“The wards can only be nourished by worthy rulers,” Brey said. “By those who can survive the terrain and what lurks there.”
“You sound like you just recited a passage from a boring book.”
He nodded at the chalice. “Something like that is engraved in the glass case.”
“Right,” I said. “So this cup won’t simply take us straight to the wards.”
“No.”
We both fell quiet, staring at the chalice.
“I really didn’t want to say anything, but…” I tilted my head. “That coral looks incredibly old. So old that it may fall off if we touch it.”
Brey scoffed but then leaned closer to the case. “Actually, you might be right.”
“Maybe we should have the cup looked at.” I nodded. “I would hate for us to accidentally ruin it and become the reason the wards are never fed again.”
Brey’s lips twitched as he straightened. Sighing, he stepped forward and placed his hands upon the dusty glass. “Or maybe the chalice is fine, and we’ll feel foolish for further delaying this.”
“I certainly wouldn’t go that far, but—”
A hum of energy surged into the room, silencing me.
Brey froze with the glass case in his hands.
“I think you should put that back,” I whispered, glaring wide-eyed at the chalice that appeared no different yet emanated an unearthly energy. “Right now.”
But he carefully set it down on the floor.
My heart pounded. I retreated to the door.
“Ethel,” Brey said, staring hard at the chalice. “Come.”
“Honestly, I truly just remembered that I—”
“Ethel.” His eyes met mine and narrowed. “We don’t have a choice.” Extending his hand, he said, “So let’s get it over with.”
He was right, of course. And we had delayed this for far too long.
Yet as I crept forward, it was not the chalice or what awaited that scared me, but Brey’s hand. My own shook as it rose. Held breath expanded my chest.
Then he lowered his hand and gently looped his fingers over the coral-wrapped handle.
He’d merely beckoned me, I realized, and ducked my head before he saw my face redden.
To make it seem like I’d never thought otherwise, I quickly moved my raised hand to the other handle. As soon as my fingers clasped it, the floor melted.
Darkness instantly snatched us, tearing shouts from us as we were sucked into an endlessly twirling torrent.
Seconds later, the torrent slowed.
Then dropped us onto something unbearably bright.
Sand.
Brey cursed.
Dazed, I stared at the sea scant feet away from me. It glittered like diamonds beneath the rising sun. I tried to speak, but the only sound I could make was a grunt when a hand curled around my shoulder and pushed me onto my back.
Blazing green eyes searched my face. A blown-out breath roughened his words. “Not dead.”
“Not yet,” I rasped, then coughed and noticed his empty hands. “Where’s the chalice?”
As if he hadn’t just been thrown down a river of utter darkness onto the sand, Brey rose fluidly to his feet. “It seemed very much stuck to that stand, so I’d wager it’s still at the palace.”
I sat up. “Then how do we get back?”
“One bothersome problem at a time, darling.” He stared down the beach, which ended with a large cropping of sharp rocks. “Right now, we need to head north.” He then gazed at the trees above the dunes. “That forest blocks the way, and it looks uninvitingly dense.”
“Then I imagine you’ll get along quite nicely with it.”
An iced look over his shoulder became a smirk. “Are you waiting for me to help you up?”
I scoffed. “No, but a gentleman woul—”
“Onward, then.” He marched toward the dunes.
I sighed and got to my feet to follow him.
Sand snuck into my boots. I hissed and walked on my toes. All that earned me was more sand in my boots and another amused look from Brey.
Before the trees stood a crumbling pile of stone. A worn path curled around each side of it.
I frowned. “How is there a path when no one comes here?”
Saltblood Isle wasn’t the only invisible island. Once these wards were fed, the isles they resided on were also veiled.
“Trust me.” Brey sauntered right past the pile of stone to the forest. “Some things are better left unknown.”
His double meaning failed to strike because as I neared the stone, I discovered it wasn’t merely stone at all.
It was a well. Or it once had been.
Spiders crawled around the mossy base and all over the well’s remains, some tiny and others as large as my hands. If water lay deep down within, I didn’t know. Webs stretched across the rim, too thick to see past.
A gust of warm wind delivered an unmistakable scent.
Blood.
Wondering if it could be the ward, I hurried after Brey into the forest. “That was a well,” I said. “What if it’s the ward?”
“It’s not.”
“How do you know?” I asked. “You barely even looked at it.”
“Because it would be too simple.”
Though he was probably right, I fought the urge to argue.
Thickly trunked trees soon caused the path to thin and turn sharply.
Ruby-colored sap glinted against the bark, which appeared to be a dark gray at first glance. Yet the farther we walked, the darker the bark and the forest became. Humid, too. Gazing up, I found only treetops so tightly intertwined that the brown and olive leaves failed to rustle.
A snarl echoed in the distance.
Fear slithered down my spine. Brey slowed.
Quietly, he unsheathed the sword I was now glad he’d brought along. I eyed the forest floor, then decided against it when I spied a pair of gold eyes peering at us from behind a fern. I moved closer to Brey.
The steel sword became a guiding light through the shadows. For some minutes, there was only the sound of our steps and the faint screech of gulls.
Until Brey hissed and halted.
He shook his foot about. Something foul-smelling flew from the pointed toe of his reptile-skin boot. “These are one of a kind. Croxine skin.”
Next to him loomed a monstrous pile of dung.
I covered my nose and mouth. “You made the leap from fur to endangered species quite quickly.”
“They’re endangered?”
“Those boots wouldn’t be one of a kind if they weren’t.”
He dropped his sword. “Fuck.”
“Indeed. You’re supposed to be somewhat intelligent,” I drawled. “It’s one of the few things that made me want to bed you. What beneath the moon possessed you to wear them on this venture anyway?”
