Читать книгу Shadow Of The Vampire - Meagan Hatfield - Страница 11

DECLAN HEARD HEAVY footsteps progressing down the hall. The swaying of chain links rattled along the stones with each step.

Closer.

Each sound brought closer what he knew would be his death.

Too spent from the crazy dreams and damnable collar, Declan closed his eyes. The animal in him immediately picked up what his eyes could not see. Cool night air with a hint of rain. He tipped back his chin, sniffing the sky. Filling his lungs with a deep breath, he shut out the drumbeat of the footsteps and focused on the sporadic yet heavy pattering of rain.

His dragon spirit howled for freedom, roared to taste just one drop of fresh rain on his flesh, rolling down his back. Beneath his skin twitched the wings, begging for the sweet release of slicing night’s air with their instrumental precision.

The rain picked up, tapping against the earth and stones like impatient fingertips. He cocked his head toward the tiny barred window. Fat droplets splashed on the cliffs and slapped against the ocean water, which churned louder with each howling wind gust.

The cell door swung open. Two soldiers filed in, hauling him to his feet. Declan lifted a fist to fight back, confused when he could barely raise it to his chest. The collar weakened him more than he’d thought.

And that dream…

They slung their arms under his and proceeded out the cell door. The beast within whimpered when they tore him away from the window. The lack of air wounded him more than any amount of torture they could devise.

The tips of his toes slid on the floor as they led him down the long, winding corridors. Declan tried to keep his head up so he might learn where they kept him and discern a way out, but he couldn’t. His head seemed weighted down, as if someone had strung an anchor to his neck. Dropping his chin to his chest, he closed his eyes and tried to gather the strength that still lived inside him in preparation for whatever they planned.

ALEXIA BRISTLED AT IVAN’S bravado, but said nothing. From day one, Lotharus had worked hard to undermine her position in the horde, especially around his soldiers. Bit by bit she’d watched as he’d tipped the power scales in his favor. When she’d finally had enough and demanded he stop, he’d taken a more drastic step to ensure she’d always feel inferior around him.

Although she did her best to move on from that night, the damage was done. The soldiers could not only sense her weakness around him, they could see it. Hell, she thought with a twinge of shame, even their dragon captive saw it.

Pursing her lips, Alexia swept past Ivan and into the hall, glad he remained behind. Sconces flickered and hissed as she passed. Their auburn light danced on the damp cave walls, casting shadows against them. Used to the clicking of her boots on the stones, the quiet shuffle of her slippered feet unsettled her. She focused instead on the cool metal pressing into the flesh of her outer thigh with each step she took. That felt normal…familiar.

As she made her way to the Queen’s chamber, she thought about what she was going to tell her mother about the crystal. An ancient horde relic, the Draco Crystal had been in the safekeeping of her family for years. Yet only recently did they understand its true power. An earthquake had fractured the cliff walls, revealing half a dozen catacombs and vaults no one had seen in over seven hundred years. Among many of the olden treasures and artifacts found within were scrolls long forgotten and thought destroyed. One such scroll spoke of the Draco Crystal, of its power to rule all or destroy one. Of the terrible wrath and damage it had caused in the auld days and the subsequent reason for the scroll being buried.

Everything in Alexia screamed to abide the olden horde’s wishes and keep dead secrets hidden. But Lotharus and her mother had other plans. They wanted to harness the crystal’s power and use it against their enemies to ensure victory.

When a group of dragons had attacked last month, stealing the scroll, the captured dragon King and Queen were tortured and murdered. Now, with the stakes so high and both sides on the hunt, the race was on. Alexia knew it would only be a matter of weeks, even days, until this war would be at its pinnacle. Although she knew she should do everything in her power to ensure her people would be the ones standing on top, something about the crystal, about Lotharus’s rampant bloodlust to find it, unsettled her.

Alexia rounded the corner. Dismissing the guard with a wave, she pushed through the giant double doors. They pivoted wide, revealing the bright splendor of the Queen’s hall. Queen Catija’s quarter had no receiving room. Instead, it opened into a dome reminiscent of an archaic cathedral or sanctuary, complete with fresco ceilings. Soft artificial light beamed from the top of the cavernous space. Alexia’s eye was drawn upward, following the flowing arcs and sculpted curves of the vaulted ceiling.

While the Queen was the mirror image of her predecessor in appearance, unlike her grandmother, who enjoyed the finer things and believed in reform and harmony, Alexia’s mother had barbaric tastes and a penchant for gore. Or at least she had in the past. A decade ago, just the sound of the Queen’s name would strike fear in dragons and vampires alike. However, ever since Lotharus had entered the picture, first as her advisor and now as her future husband, she’d changed. Slowly at first—most had not even noticed the drastic transformation. But Alexia had.

Lowering her gaze to the gardens, a relaxed smile passed her lips. Marble statues of Goddess stood beside white pillars wider than the boles of the large trees stretching upward, trying to reach any light they could, artificial or natural. Tendrils of lush ivy embraced the whitewashed walls and myriad birds flew freely around the underground garden. A lazy path wound through the space, forking into two passageways. One led to the conference quarter, the other toward the Queen’s bedchamber door.

Alexia followed the footpath toward the meeting room, pausing at a fountain for the divine hunter, Diana. The ivory Goddess stared with wide, vacant eyes at the water pooled at her feet. She held one palm up, as if waiting for some sort of offering to be fitted atop it. The other slim hand extended forward, pouring a pitcher of endless water into the rectangular pond stretched out before her. Alexia followed her gaze to the pool. Beneath the shimmering water lay an intricate scaled replica of Davna Vremena, a land far beyond the mists of the Fatum, deep in the olden lands of their foremothers.

Although she could not see the model, she remembered vague images of it from childhood. Her grandmother used to bring her here, used to raise the small city from the bottom of the pond and tell her stories of a peaceful world where every creature of light and dark lived in harmony. Alexia suddenly yearned to see the monument again, if only to prove that such a place had once existed.

Taking one last look at the fountain, Alexia continueddown the path. A frown tugged her brow at the sound of voices lingering over the constant trickle of streaming water.

“I do not think she’s ready,” a male voice said.

“She has not yet ascended.” Her mother’s voice answered, weak but confident.

“Even then, I don’t believe she will be ready for the throne.”

“Lotharus, though you are an olden, you have not personally borne witness to a princess becoming a Queen. The power she’ll gain when she ascends will rival the Goddess herself. Combined with the training you’ve given her, my daughter will have ten times the strength of any one of those soldiers you hold in such high esteem.”

“It’s not her strength I’m worried about,” he said. “It is her will. Her ability to rule to the standard of our ancestors…”

Alexia stepped out from behind the foliage. “My ability should be none of your concern.” Lotharus turned to face her. As usual, he wore tailored black clothes. Their starkness stood in striking contrast to his sallow skin tone, and noticeably different from her mother’s Mediterranean complexion, pure white gown and raven-black hair.

Light and dark. Good and evil.

“Ah, Alexia dear, you’re here.” Catija stepped forward to greet her, but her footing faltered and she wobbled.

“Mother.” Alexia hurried to her side. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Catija dismissed with a wave. “Just a little dizzy.”

Lotharus wound his arm around the Queen’s waist, tucking her against him and pivoting her away from Alexia. “You need to feed, dear heart,” Lotharus said, tightening his hold around her middle. “Come.” He pivoted, walking them toward the council quarters.

Alexia trailed a few paces behind. Her gaze fixed on her mother’s black hair, plaited down her back. The tip of her long mane brushed the spotless, shimmering floors like a broom, swaying side to side with each dip of her hips. She had such a youthful, vibrant body. No one could see that a silent yet threatening illness was plaguing her mind.

“The wedding and ascension are two days away, Alexia, and you have yet to select a gown,” the Queen said over her shoulder.

Alexia opened her mouth, but promptly closed it. It was pointless to remind her mother they had selected the gown just last night. “I shall see to choosing a gown straight away,” she replied instead.

“Good.” Her mother smiled. “Lotharus tells me the community is eager to attend your ceremony. We wouldn’t want them to be disappointed.”

Alexia nodded, wondering exactly how her mother thought she should react. A group of strangers were excited to have an excused day off from work or labor. To them, the occasion of such fortune mattered little if at all. They came for the free food and spirits the festivities offered, not to wish her or her mother well. After all, she knew none of them, so it stood to reason none of them knew her.

Keeping her opinions to herself, Alexia followed the two of them into the conference room. The circular seating area reminded her of those Jacuzzis she’d seen humans use. However, this one was ten times the size and empty. Instead of water, the center bore a white stone table. It had a pedestal in the center and looked rather like a mushroom had grown from the ground, flattened and hardened in place.

After descending two steps into the circle, the Queen took a seat on the plush velvet cushions pillowing the bench. Her flowing white toga gown fanned out around her. The thick braid now rested over her shoulder, curling around her breasts to rest on her lap like a hairy python.

Alexia lowered to the floor, resting her hands on the table. Lotharus sat behind her, the fabric of his pants brushing the bare skin of her lower back. Shifting, Alexia sat up straighter, trying to keep from touching him. She glanced back to see him sitting with his legs open in a relaxed V, his elbows resting on the floor up behind him. His eyes regarded her with an eager tinge that sent bile rising in her throat before they flitted to a soldier perched in the corner.

“First things first.” Lotharus snapped his fingers.

The soldier stepped forward. With awkward alacrity, he poured vintage blood from the royal cellar into three silver goblets. The Queen leaned forward, eagerly accepting and drinking her offer. By the masculine sound behind her, she knew Lotharus had swilled his down, as well. However, Alexia could not tear her eyes away from the goblet and decanter long enough to pick hers up.

Silver.

They were made of silver. Like the collar on his neck, eating through precious layers of his golden flesh…

“Are you not hungry?”

Startled, Alexia looked up at her mother’s query. “No. I—I mean, yes.” Recalling her weakness in the shower, she knew she should feed. However, her stomach rolled in protest.

When another minute ticked by and Alexia still hadn’t taken the cup in hand, the Queen huffed out a breath and placed her empty goblet on the table. “Alexia, I know you heard us in the garden. But do not worry. Many have ascended before you, and many will make the journey after.” Swiping a dainty wrist over her bloodred lips, she nodded her head and pointed to the tapestry hanging from floor to ceiling against the wall. “Your ancestors have long lived through much harder times than these and succeeded. You will, as well.”

Alexia looked up at the family tree—a sickening reminder of her evil lineage and her utter lacking to keep up with it. Stretching up farther than even her keen eyes could discern were symbols and names of those who had come before her. Women who had overcome, ascended and conquered their fears and dominated those around them.

“For centuries, each female leader has been given a one-hundred-year incumbency to rule, and then the line passes on,” the Queen continued. “This is the way it’s been done since the dark times. The way it must be to keep this horde together, keep us strong. It will soon be your time, Alexia. Your obligation is to not only see us all through the next hundred years, but to keep our horde intact and in the seat of power amongst the other vampire clans.”

I don’t want to rule. Alexia nearly let the words fall from her lips. However, she did want to govern. Just not the way her mother had and especially not how Lotharus expected.

“Now.” The Queen held out her hand. “Have you brought my crystal back, as I asked?”

Alexia stared at her open palm before blinking up at her mother. The words of her failure froze on her lips before she forced them out in a rush. “No, my Queen. It was lost.”

“Lost?”

“Yes. But I have found something else.”

Catija took her hand back and shook her head. “Let me guess, another Derkein. Lotharus, what on earth and sky should we do with her? I gave her one, simple task…”

“You worry without cause, my love,” Lotharus said, a smile in his voice. “She will find the crystal and return it to you.”

Catija offered him a lazy grin. “Only because you’ll be there to guide her.”

“Stop speaking about me like I’m not here,” Alexia snapped, rising up to stand. “I managed to catch that dragon lord without his help.”

Her mother’s eyes flashed, color flushing her usually sallow cheeks. “Yes. However, you have obviously yet to retrieve anything useful from it. I need that crystal. More importantly, you will need that crystal.”

“Why? Because he says so,” Alexia said, pointing to Lotharus. “Our foremothers ruled without fulfilling that scroll’s prophecy. You ruled without it. I fail to see why I cannot do the same.”

“Enough!” The Queen stood. “You ask what good is the crystal, and I ask, what good is another dragon carcass stinking up my horde?”

“If I may,” Lotharus said, easing up from his perch. The Queen nodded and placed a hand over her heaving chest in an attempt to catch her breath. “That dragon lord may be of use to us. He is not just any winged snake from the flock.”

Catija’s brow furrowed. “Go on.”

With a knowing smile, Lotharus moved beside her.

“That Derkein your daughter captured is the only son of the dead King and Queen.”

“What?” Alexia breathed.

The Queen’s face instantly paled. “He wouldn’t possibly have told you this. How do you know?”

“I saw something. Something I’ve only seen once before.” His cold eyes settled on Alexia. Their heated focus slid to her neck, lingering there before he met her eyes again. “Would you care to tell her, or should I?”

Alexia thought about holding her tongue. If it was true, the ramifications, the possibilities overwhelmed her. But then she realized it mattered not what she said or didn’t say. Lotharus would tell her mother if she didn’t. She sighed. “The dragon lord has fangs, like us.”

The Queen covered her mouth with her hand. “Goddess, then it is him.”

Alexia’s gaze fixed on the look of horror on her mother’s face. Something was wrong. Her mother, the most vicious and bloodthirsty Queen of the horde in centuries, was not scared of anything. But right now, she was terrified.

“Lotharus, we must not harm him,” she said, clutching his lapel tight. “We must set him free.” Her mother’s words came out in a whisper but Alexia heard them clear and true.

“Are you mad?” Lotharus asked. “We couldn’t have asked for a better situation to fall in our lap. Think on it, my sweet. What better wedding gift to give our people than the head of their enemy? He is the last, the missing link that ensures our triumph. They have no other son, no other heir. He is the only remaining hope and now he is ours.”

“Which is why we must set him loose,” she said, her voice cracking.

“No.” He nodded to the soldier, now standing next to the wall. The warrior stepped forward, filled the Queen’s goblet to the rim and handed the chalice to Lotharus.

“You’re weak, my love. If you were strong again, you would see.” Lotharus settled the cup at her lips and urged her to drink. “Without this beast, the dragons will slip into nonexistence. You will go down as the most successful ruler of our time, and we will finally rule.”

“You will rule,” Alexia stated, although neither of them paid her any heed.

Catija took a deep swallow of blood before glancing up at him, a question in her eyes. “I don’t know…”

“That is why you have me to think for you,” he said into her ear before taking the shell between his lips. Her mother’s eyes fluttered and a smile curved her lips as she took another drink.

Alexia didn’t know what was going on. All she knew was if she didn’t act fast, that dragon lord’s fate was as good as sealed and, for some reason, her mother did not want it so.

“May I have a word, Mother?” She stared at Lotharus. “In private.”

His coal eyes steadied on hers. For a moment Alexia thought he might refuse. However, he disengaged himself from her mother’s side. “Go ahead with your girl talk, my dear. I have a prisoner to interrogate.”

Alexia’s heart thumped as she watched him walk away. “Why?” she called after him. “If he knew anything about the crystal, we would have uncovered it last night. I say he is telling the truth and we do as the Queen says. Let him go. Demonstrate our goodwill to the dragons. Use the beginning of this new era to show them we are willing to change.”

He stopped, his back visibly tensing. A heartbeat later, he’d crossed the room in a plume of smoke and mist to stand before her. Cold fingers wrapped around the bare flesh of her arm, pulling her into him. “I grow so weary of your insolence, little Alexia,” he spat, twisting his hand until her skin beneath it burned.

Grimacing, she pulled free of his hold. “I’m happy to disappoint you.”

Again, he made a move for her. But he stopped short, as if he finally remembered he stood in the presence of the Queen. With a shift of his shoulders, Lotharus straightened and turned his focus to Catija. “That dragon knows the location of the crystal and will confess it in good time. He is too strong and willful for us to have broken him in one night.” He looked back at Alexia. “And as for releasing him, that is something I will not do until I am confident he speaks the truth. Or he’s dead.”

Alexia watched him turn on his heel and again make for the door. “I will not let you destroy my entire reign before I even get there,” she cried. “Do you hear me?” When Lotharus didn’t reply, a wave of helpless annoyance rode through her. “You cannot deny my orders! I am the ruler here.”

Finally, he stopped and looked over his shoulder, his lips twisting. “Not yet, you’re not.”

Alexia watched in stunned disbelief as he left the room. The moment he was gone, she rushed back to her mother. “Are you honestly going to let him get away with this? He’s trying to start another war.”

The Queen casually took up the bottle and refilled her goblet. “We are already at war. Lotharus is only trying to do what’s best for our horde.”

“You say the words as if you’re trying to convince even yourself. What is best is to let the prisoner go. You said so yourself only moments ago.”

Catija lifted her head and Alexia couldn’t help but notice it loll slightly to the side, as if it were too much effort to hold it upright. “Why this fierce stance on the dragon’s life?”

“Me? What about you? A minute ago you were begging Loth—”

“How many others like him have you killed for the good of this horde?”

Her question hit Alexia like a bucket of icewater. “Too many.”

The Queen stood. “Perhaps you should be thinking, not enough.” Chalice in hand, Catija lifted her skirt and turned toward the bedchamber door. “I’ll see to it that Marguerite comes to get you fitted for your ascension gown.”

“So that’s it. Are you going to lie down and let him make all the decisions for you?” She exhaled. “Goddess, he has you totally delusional, doesn’t he?”

The Queen spun around, her black eyes flashing. “I will not have you address me so. This is my horde to rule until you ascend, and by the Goddess, I will do what I see fit.”

“I wish you would rule. But you have only two days left. And you better pray the dragon lasts that long.” She sucked in a breath, hoping to drag some courage into her lungs along with air. “If not, when I become Queen, you and your lover will have to answer to me.”