Of the Blood Page 15

  Did the king know about Nicolae? Did he know Roehl had issued a death decree to eliminate his entire bloodline?

  I filed the queries in the back of my mind as Roehl ended his speech and ordered the musicians to play. His darkened eyes settled on me. As he strode toward me, he presented his hand.

  “We must lead the dance,” he said leaning in, his lips brushing against my ear. “And that’s not a request.”

  A shiver raced down my spine. I despised him. And every second I spent in his presence, that hatred grew and grew.

  Reluctantly, I accepted his hand and let him lead me to the center of the dance floor. As the music built, he set one arm behind my back and the other out to his side. I obliged, allowing him to lead me around the ballroom floor.

  I had become the marionette, and my strings were stretched so tight I could scarcely breathe. A few days ago, he had neglected me in the bowels of this dreadful place, battered and starved. Now, he was parading me around like a dog on a leash, and I realized it was all because of Trystan. All I had to do was hold on to whatever strength I had left. Which wasn’t much.

  As we danced, I heard murmurs from his people as we moved past them. They were wondering who I was, and where I’d come from. The curious visitor who had captured the attention of their handsome prince. I knew he heard them too, because his eyes latched on mine and a twisted smile rose on his lips.

  If they only knew the truth.

  As the music ebbed and our dance ended, another began. Bodies swarmed onto the dance floor, whirling and twirling all around us. There were so many scents of perfumes and oils, it was making my head throb.

  “Loosen up and stop looking so gods damned miserable,” Roehl snarled.

  I glared at him. “How can I not be miserable, Prince, when I’m dancing with the devil?”

  A devilish grin exposed his long, gleaming incisors. He spun me, and as I turned back to him, I observed his eyes raking over a voluptuous woman dancing by. Her breasts were so enormous they were virtually spilling out of her gown. It was a mystery how she managed to cram those beasts into the meager amount of fabric she was wearing. She made it clear she wanted him. Her eyes were on Roehl, her tongue sweeping across her full, ruby lips. When her partner twirled her back to face him, she bit the lower edge of her lip.

  I gulped down the overpowering impulse to vomit. Good gods.

  As the song died down and another started, Lord Mathias tapped Prince Roehl on the shoulder.

  “What?” Roehl growled, presenting him a warning glance.

  Lord Mathias bowed at his waist, his eyes settling on me. “May I?”

  Roehl’s brow furrowed, then he glanced at me. I must have had an appalled expression on my face because Roehl’s eyes glimmered with amusement.

  “Good luck,” he declared to Lord Mathias, whacking a strong hand to his back. I scowled as he passed me over to his minion.

  Lord Mathias was over six-foot tall and cumbersome, but surprisingly agile on the dance floor. As we moved away from Roehl, he leaned forward and whispered.

  “Calla, I don’t have much time, so you have to listen carefully.”

  I shoved back from the disgusting swine, but he held me tight. “Why would I listen to you?”

  His eyes found mine, stern and intent. “It’s me, Kylan.” I stopped fighting after hearing his voice. A familiar voice.

  “Kylan?”

  He gave a careful nod and drew me back to him. “I came with Trystan.”

  We paused, then started dancing again. I gazed deep into those forest green eyes and failed to recognize the handsome assassin, but it was clearly his voice.

  I gulped hard. “How?”

  “Melaina. It’s a glamour, but it won’t last long.” His head remained upright, his eyes avoiding me.

  “Where is Lord Mathias?”

  “In a cabinet, unconscious.”

  “Is Trystan here?”

  A slight nod. “He’s with Roehl. But don’t look,” he admonished as I shifted my head to look at him.

  It took everything inside of me not to look, to continue playing the part of reluctant dance partner to Lord Mathias. “I haven’t been able to connect with him,” I exhaled, trying to hold my face expressionless.

  “We know,” he acknowledged, spinning me as the music began its crescendo. “In my right pocket is a small vial. Take it.”

  “What is it?”

  “A potion to reverse the spell that is barring the connection between you and Trystan.”

  “Melaina?”

  He nodded and moved us closer to the center of the dance floor. As the bodies concealed us, I slipped my hand into his pocket and clutched the small vial. Quickly, as he twirled me, I tucked it into my cleavage, shoving it down until it was secure.

  My corset would keep it from falling, and my cleavage would hold it from going anywhere.

  When I peered up, a blond male dancing past was gaping at my breasts.

  “Pardon me?” I growled. “Can a lady adjust herself without being ogled?”

  He turned away, but not before his female partner noticed and slapped his face, withdrawing from the dance floor in a huff.

  “Nice.” Kylan grinned.

  “Playing the game,” I responded.

  As the song concluded, he let me go and stepped back, bowing at the waist. “Melaina should be in your room when you return,” he whispered.

  “Thank you,” I replied with a straight face and drab curtsey, still performing. But inside, my gut was flipping over and over on itself.

  As he walked away, I wandered toward the area where the guards were assembled, toward Roehl, but my eyes prowled the space for someone else.

  Then, everything around me stood still as my eyes settled on him. Those azure eyes found mine, and the expression they gave stole every ounce of breath from my lungs. Trystan was devastatingly beautiful, and it made the hollow ache in my chest expand.

  I wasn’t the only one he’d stole attention from. Everyone around him, notably the females, were murmuring. Carpathia. Prince. Handsome. Wealthy. It wasn’t just mortals who were charmed by him.

  Trystan was unmasked, attired in a black suit with deep gray tones. His onyx hair was neatly combed back. When he looked at me and smiled, it was like sucking in a deep breath of pure, crisp air amidst the horrid pollution.

  Standing behind him, clad in black warrior leathers, were Brone, Feng, and Andrés, with arms crossed over their chests and no weapons in sight.

  They had come. He had come. For me.

  His eyes carefully scanned me, examining me from head to toe, and they spoke clearly. Within them was a mixture of relief and worry, and then a flare of rage. But with a blink, it was gone.

  I hadn’t had any kind of contact with Trystan for weeks. Maybe even months. I’d lost all record of time down in the gloomy chamber, and I knew he recognized the difference. I was thankful for the mask, the billowing gown, and makeup on my face. I couldn’t imagine what I would have looked like if I hadn’t nearly drained poor Ms. Alcott. Probably like a corpse.

  I wished I had telepathy to know what Trystan was thinking. I wanted to tell him everything that had happened. But no matter how hard I struggled to open the connection between us, my head remained silent and empty.

  I could feel the weight of Roehl’s harsh stare, observing every look and every movement that was made between us. Attempting to be non-conspicuous, I casually made my path toward Trystan and felt that invisible cord pull taut between us. The air was charged like it had been the night of my party when his eyes found me hiding in the shadowy corner of Brynna’s back patio. I couldn’t look away from him, nor did I want to. He was here. My dark knight come to rescue me from the pit of hell.

  My hand unconsciously reached out to him, but as he stepped forward to meet me, a powerful arm wrapped securely around my waist, tugging me away.

  Roehl.

  Trystan growled, his eyes went black and feral, but he stayed put, tethering whatever power he had roi
ling within him—something I had yet to see released.

  “There are rules in my kingdom, Prince of Carpathia,” Roehl snarled. But Trystan’s eyes remained locked on me. “I knew you would come for her. But I’m amazed you even let her go.”

  “She was never a prisoner,” Trystan replied, the muscles under his suit going taut.

  “Then, the bigger question is . . . why claim her?” Roehl’s eyes raked over me. “You claimed a mortal, then gave her a choice to complete the bond?”

  He was toying with Trystan, trying to force a reaction, but Trystan’s face remained calm. “And because she is not bound by a blood bond, I took the liberty of claiming her for myself.” Roehl pressed his nose to my neck and inhaled deeply. I snapped my eyes shut and scowled. “Calla is mine, and no one is allowed to touch her. Especially you, Prince Trystan Vladu,” he crooned wickedly.

  Roehl brushed his hand down my spine, pausing at the small of my back. I felt his eyes on me, but I didn’t look at him. My eyes were on Trystan. “Don’t fret, Prince. I’ll make sure she’s thoroughly satisfied.” He purred, his hand slipping to my side, dragging me tight against his body. “Soon, she will be my mate.”

  “Mate?” I choked on the word, stepping back, pushing away from his grasp. But he held me even tighter. “I’ll never be yours!” From the side of my eye, I could see movement from Trystan’s cadre.

  “Oh, my pet,” Roehl breathed, unnaturally composed. But I knew there was a madness broiling beneath his calm, and with one wrong move, he could snap. “One day, you’ll see things differently.”

  Everybody in the ballroom was now silent. Even the musicians ceased playing, their attention directed on us.

  I would willingly die than be Roehl’s. I tugged away from him again, but he clutched my arm and gripped tight.

  The fury on Feng, Andrés, and Brone’s faces was frightening, but nothing compared to the murderous look in Trystan’s eyes. I knew they could unleash hell, but they were severely outnumbered.

  I wouldn’t allow them to get injured, not on my account. Not because of what Nicolae had done.

  Trystan took a step forward, and so did Roehl’s guards. Roehl raised his hand, stopping them. There was no fear in Trystan’s eyes as they met Roehl’s, but I saw darkness—a fury that flickered within. A burst of wind tore through the ballroom, rattling the windows, causing everyone to gasp and squeal. Brone put a palm on Trystan’s shoulder, and he stilled. Immediately, the wind died.

  “Have you forgotten Roehl, who claimed her first?” Trystan’s tone was even, controlled.

  Roehl’s rage subsided, like water to a flame. He let go of my arm and took a cautious step to the side, away from me, holding his arms out to his sides. A calculating grin grew on his lips.

  “Alright then, Prince Trystan.” He spoke loud enough for the entire silent and motionless crowd to hear. “Calla is free to go, and I will also grant her a choice, just as you did. She can remain here with me or leave with you. If she chooses to go, you can take her now and leave unscathed. You have my word.” He placed his left hand over his dead heart.

  Cunning bastard!

  I glanced at Roehl with unmitigated contempt. That’s why he warned me earlier. He knew this was going to happen. I was set up. A pawn in his sick and twisted game. He knew I wouldn’t go while Brynna was still here. He knew how much she meant to me, and that I wouldn’t endanger her life or well-being. That’s why he brought her down here. So I could see her, and he could prove he had her . . . and the upper hand.

  I couldn’t breathe. It was as if the surrounding walls were closing in.

  Now. Now, he was offering me freedom in front of Trystan and everyone else in this gods-damned room, to demonstrate where my loyalty lay. Knowing full well what my decision would be.

  “Calla,” Trystan said, stepping toward me, extending his hand. His eyes had softened, returning to their beautiful azure hue. “Come,” he said, his voice so gentle.

  My chest ached, and tears filled my eyes. Everything inside me begged to seize his hand. But I had no other option. As long as Brynna was here in Morbeth, I would have to remain here too. I couldn’t leave her here alone . . . a helpless mortal in a den of immortal monsters. They’d rip her to shreds.

  “Calla,” Trystan spoke again, taking another step forward, stretching his hand even further toward me.

  Tears spilled down my face. I regretfully and unwillingly took a step backward. Afraid I would reconsider and take his hand.

  “Calla, come,” Trystan implored, brow furrowed, eyes pleading.

  A heavy sob burst from my chest. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was shake my head and take one more excruciating step backward.

  Brone, Feng, and Andrés stood directly behind him, faces and arms tensed, in case anything should happen. But I wouldn’t allow it to get too far. I wouldn’t let them get hurt. Not over me.

  My chest was caving in, knowing Roehl had held my tongue and tied my hands. Taking another step backward, I watched all hope shatter.

  I mouthed the words. “I’m sorry.”

  Roehl gave a victorious laugh. “She’s made her decision, and everyone here has borne witness.” Roehl slipped his arm around my waist again, and Trystan’s eyes went deadly. “I advise you and your men to leave now. For your own safety.”

  The heartrending expression in Trystan’s eyes made me want to escape from this miserable, gods damned world and fade away into nothingness. My salvation—Prince Trystan Vladu—was a few steps and a hand grasp away. But at this very moment, there could have been a million miles between us.

  “Please, go,” I breathed, begging him.

  I knew Trystan was smart enough to realize this was not the place or time to start a war, especially being outnumbered, with their weapons confiscated.

  I couldn’t handle it anymore, so I turned to Roehl. “I’d like to return to my room.”

  With a beam of triumph, Roehl gestured to Markus, who promptly moved to my side.

  Roehl then turned his attention back to Trystan. “Like you, Prince, I allowed her a choice. She was able to leave with you but has chosen to remain here with me.”

  Trystan’s eyes were black as midnight, a ferocious growl ripped from his throat. “I have no doubt her decision was made under duress.”

  “Think what you will,” Roehl snapped, and his guards drew their weapons. “She is staying, and if you ever step foot in my kingdom again, I will not be as welcoming.”

  The look Trystan gave Roehl would cause any mortal to drop dead. The muscles under his jacket flexed, his hands balled into tight fists. “If you are ever in Carpathia, I shall return the favor.”

  Before Trystan left, he looked at me one last time and bowed his head. Then pivoted and walked away, followed closely by his cadre.

  Tears flowed, and my heart shattered over and over as I watched them leave. Him leave.

  Markus offered me his arm as an act of mercy. I took hold of it and held on tight, watching Trystan, Brone, Feng, and Andrés walk out the doors.

  All hope of escaping this evil place vanished with them.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Markus remained mute until we arrived at the corridor leading to my bedroom. Reaching my bedroom door, he hesitated.

  “If you require anything, let the guards at the door know. I’ll make sure you get what you need.” His tone was much softer than before. Maybe even sympathetic.

  I nodded as he gestured for the guard closest to the door to hold it open while I stepped in. When Markus stepped in behind me, trepidation pricked my skin, wondering if Melaina was inside.

  “You don’t have to stay,” I said, swiveling toward him, wiping away the last tear that had slipped.

  He went around, sniffing the air. “I’ve been ordered to check the room thoroughly at your return.”

  “Why? Guards are standing right outside. Wouldn’t they have known if someone came in?”

  He threw me a stern look. “I have orders. I will leave when they are complete.
”

  “Fine.” I sighed and started to pull out the pins holding my mask. Moving out of his way, I headed toward the washroom. “May I? Or do you need to check it first?”

  “Just go,” he snarled.

  Before I headed into the washroom, I casually strolled over to where he stood and turned my back to him. “Could you please unzip my dress?”

  “No.” His reply was immediate and firm.

  “I can’t reach the zipper, and I don’t want this lovely gown to get ripped.” He didn’t move or respond. “Please,” I pleaded in my sweetest voice, holding up my hair.

  After a growl of displeasure, Markus unzipped the dress halfway down my back. I knew he’d seen the bruises that were left because his breath caught. “You can manage the rest,” he said, shifting and scanning the room.

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s clear.” He paused before he exited the room. “Sleep well,” he said, then stepped out and sealed the door behind him.

  Sleep well? It was a cordial remark. Maybe he felt bad for me after what his asshole prince had done.

  Before moving or doing anything else, I retrieved the vial from between my breasts, tugged off the top, and poured its contents down my throat. It was bitter, but I made sure to ingest every drop.

  Hurriedly, I made my way to the washroom and latched the door. There was a narrow window on the far wall, and below it was a magnificent garden blooming with flowers, despite the season. It had to have been magic. I held the vial out the window and let go, watching it drop into the middle of a red rose bush. Perfect. No one would consider poking around in thorns.

  My eyes swept the courtyard ahead of me, wishing to catch a glimpse of Trystan and his cadre. But the entire front area was flat, aside from the silhouettes of dark trees stabbing the sky. And beyond that . . . an enormous wall. The Red Wall.

  Tears welled, but I refused to let them spill. I had to be strong and not selfish. I had no other option but to stay here. Besides, there was still hope if — Melaina! Was she here?