Bloodkin (20 page)

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Authors: Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

BOOK: Bloodkin
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“It’s a tempting offer, but I don’t sell my blood,” Vance said. “I learned the hard way that it can have … unforeseen consequences.”

“I heard you nearly killed all the trainers,” Stefan answered, his voice almost jovial. “I would have paid a dear price to see that.”

I didn’t trust him enough to reply in any way. “I’m glad the boy is doing better,” I said. “We’ll be on our way now.”

“Look me up if you change your mind, either of you,” he said. He picked the boy up, cradling him in strong arms, and preceded us out of the room. Vance and I gave him a few minutes to get ahead of us before we left.

We picked up food at the kitchen as hastily as we could, then retreated to our room. I forced myself to eat, even though I had never felt less interested in food in my life. I wanted to curl up under open stars and free skies. These stone walls reminded me of the serpiente palace, without
the comforting nooks and crevices where one could find peace.

When it came time to sleep, I feared I would have nightmares about children raised in cold gray cells.

And Shane will be there to play music for them
, I thought darkly, and then shuddered.

“Are you all right?” Vance asked.

“Just tired.”

“Where do you want to sleep?”

The choices were a giant, four-poster bed piled high with soft sheets and down blankets and pillows, a velvet upholstered couch, or, of course, the rug, which was so thick and plush it sank under my feet. There were other options—the claw-foot bathtub in the separate washroom was probably also large enough to sleep in—but even though I was used to the ground, I drew the line at cast iron for a bed.

“If—” I drew a deep breath to gather the nerve to ask Vance a question that would have been perfectly ordinary and acceptable for any normal serpiente but was more complicated between us. I didn’t want Vance to get the wrong impression now in either direction: that I wanted more than his friendship tonight, or that I didn’t trust the strength of that friendship. “If I say that I would really like you to hold me so I don’t need to sleep alone, and that’s
all
I want, is that all right?”

Most serpiente men had a little trouble with that line.
They might say yes, but twenty minutes later they would ask for more. I’d lost friends when I was younger who walked away from me, hurt and angry, when I drew a line between
friends
and
lovers
. Vance, on the other hand, had always been a gentleman. We had snuggled together under the trees plenty of times, and drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, but that hadn’t involved a
bed
. Beds changed things.

Vance let his breath out in a rush, and he said, “As long as you hold me, too.”

I hadn’t slept in a real bed since I had fled the palace, but Vance’s arms comforted me enough that I could begin to relax despite the weight of the day’s events and the expectations of tomorrow. “I do miss beds,” I admitted as we curled up together on the soft mattress.

“I miss pillows,” Vance answered, snagging one to tuck beneath his head. “Soft, down pillows, instead of a rolled-up sack of supplies.”

“Down?” I teased. “You’re a
bird
.”

“I’m not a goose,” Vance replied magnanimously.

I rested my head on his shoulder, so the sound of his breathing and his heart filled the silence that otherwise ruled this stone place.

Somehow, I managed to slide into sleep.

I was hiding in one of the secret rooms that only I used to know. In real life, no one had ever found me there, but in the dream, guards dragged me out. They threw me to the floor in the royal receiving room, and told me to kneel to the Naga and Diente
.

“A child of Obsidian kneels to no one,” I said, defiantly coming to my feet
.

In front of me stood Misha. She was wrapped in silver, gold, and jewels
.

I heard Malachi’s prophecy:
“When you and your king rule, you will bow to no one. And this place, this Midnight, will burn to ash.”
The words rose up from the ground like an accusation
.

Misha turned and took her mate’s arm. Gabriel Donovan looked down at me with Cobriana-scarlet eyes. Misha’s outfit of precious metals, I suddenly realized, wasn’t a gown, but rather an endless series of chains. Gabriel held the end of her leash in his hand
.

Around me, the firestorm began
.

IT WAS A LONG DAY
.

Vance and I snacked on the supplies we had when we got hungry, but chose not to leave our room again until it was time to meet the vampires. We agreed that we would leave Midnight immediately after the meeting, regardless of the outcome, even if that meant traveling in the dark in order to find a suitable campsite. We would do what we could do for the Shantel, then put our backs to this place.

Lost in my musings, I nearly leapt out of my skin when the knock came at the door. When I answered, the same collared young man who had served tea the evening before informed us that Mistress Jeshickah would see us now.

“Thank y—”

I didn’t get through my polite reply before Vance
grabbed my shoulder and hauled me back. “Kadee,
look
at him.”

His posture was hunched and his gaze had been down until that moment, when he looked at Vance with confusion. His irises were perfectly jet-black. I stepped closer, horrified by what I already guessed to be true. He wasn’t breathing. His face was utterly without expression, but his skin was chalky. There was no color in his dead cheeks.

“He’s—” My voice choked off as I imagined an eternity as a mindless slave. “How …”

“Is this why they made us wait a day?” Vance choked out.

The slave—the
vampire
who had been a slave just the day before and was still wearing a slave’s uniform and collar—answered obligingly, “Perhaps, sir. Mistress Jeshickah did say something to that effect.”

I swallowed tightly.
“Why?”
I asked.

The slave’s gaze dropped again. “I’m sorry, my lady, I do not know that.”

If he was a vampire, could he still even be a slave? Obviously
he
thought so. Everyone said a broken slave could never be fixed. What was his purpose?

“I’m sorry to rush you,” the slave added as I stared at him, “but my mistress is waiting.”

I nodded. “Let’s go,” I said to Vance. “If he’s a threat, I’m sure they will explain it to us.”

Jeshickah was already seated at the head of the table
when we entered. She looked pale and drawn, but wore a satisfied smile.

Her entourage was significantly smaller than last night. The vampire-slave who had led us here crossed the room and knelt beside his mistress’s chair, next to a young woman who had already assumed the same posture. I couldn’t see her eyes, but I was almost certain that she was a vampire as well. The trainers were absent, but had been replaced by another man I recognized.

“Good evening Kadee, Vance,” Stefan greeted us.

“Evening, Stefan,” Vance replied. “May I say it is not a surprise to see you here?”

The witch chuckled, and then tossed a small bag toward us. I caught it reflexively before it would have hit my face. “For your assistance last night,” he said. “A few coins from the shapeshifter whose son you helped save, and a very special piece of flint from me. It won’t work long—two or three times, depending on what you are trying to burn—but I assure you it should light your campfire regardless of the wood’s condition.”

“Be sure to test it when you take our deal back to the Shantel,” Jeshickah purred, the smile on her face cold enough to make me shiver.

My hand clenched the small bag, which was not really a payment. It was a warning. They wanted to prove they had the power to follow through on their threat if the Shantel continued to defy them.

“You should also tell them about Isaac and Ariadne here,” she said, gesturing to the two vampires kneeling beside her. “Changing them both took quite a bit out of me,” Jeshickah said as I continued to stare in horror at the collared vampire, “but he and Ariadne will be useful when we receive payment from the Shantel. Do you like their names?”

What kind of absurd question was
that
?

Vance cleared his throat, and said, “Ariadne … King Minos’s daughter. She supervised the labyrinth where sacrifices were brought to the Minotaur, until she helped Theseus defeat it.”

I didn’t know that tale, but the word
sacrifices
had triggered another old memory. “Isaac was …” The memory was so faint. I knew there was more to the biblical story, but all I could recall was, “bound by his father, to be sacrificed.”

“Given the events that led us here, I thought it wise to take some precautions.
My
Isaac and Ariadne will be sacrificed, too, if necessary. They’re … food tasters, so to speak, and if one of them so much as
sneezes
after spending some time with my new Shantel acquisitions, I will consider any deal we make invalid, and proceed with my original plan. Is that clear?”

I nodded. Shantel magic had made Vance’s blood poisonous, and nearly killed four of Jeshickah’s elite, chosen trainers. Isaac and Ariadne were protection against a double cross using a similar method. Suddenly I very much
hoped the Shantel had been honest. I doubted these were the only precautions Midnight had taken.

“Shall we get down to business?” Jeshickah asked. “Please, take a seat. Isaac, scribe the meeting for us,” she ordered, causing the slave to bounce to his feet and sit at a nearby desk. “Since you are negotiating for an absent party, it is polite to put any terms we agree to on paper. You will of course have a chance to review the document before giving it to the Shantel, to ensure everything is in order.”

She knows we can’t read
, I thought as I watched Isaac prepare paper, pen, and ink.

I felt like we had already lost a fight, and we hadn’t even reached our chairs yet.

Vance and I both sat. I had a feeling that any “negotiation” we had intended was already essentially over. How could the two of us have thought we could make any headway against this group of immortals?

Jeshickah laced her fingers together on the table, and then summarized our offer.

“It is my understanding that the Shantel have offered their prince Shane as full payment for their debt. This
might
have been considered sufficient if we had heard from them more promptly and apologetically, but considering the time that has passed, the disruption to market trade during these last months, and the cost we’ve incurred just to ensure that
any
payment be made, the Shantel can hardly expect us to accept one young man as adequate compensation.
Given your persuasive arguments last night, however, I am willing to accept the young prince as partial payment, and discuss how else to satisfy the debt.”

I gritted my teeth. We had expected this, but I didn’t know how to proceed. I hoped Vance was feeling a little more confident. He said, “Tell us what you’re asking.”

“I had initially asked for two trained witches to cover the human property lost in the plague. I am willing to accept that Shane has magical training, but I still want a fully trained witch. I don’t care which sex as long as he or she is young—less than twenty-five years.
Additionally
, the Shantel lose all the extra privileges I have allowed them in the past. When it comes time to balance their accounts, their prince or king will come to us just as the serpiente and avians always have. We are done begging to enter their forest when we must conduct business. If they are
ever
late when accounts are due, and we must go to them, we will demand flesh in payment. Finally, they must stop barring our people from their land, and their merchants must return to the marketplace, with an increased tax on goods sold there until such time as they have repaid the cost of cleaning their space in the market, and the lost profits from the past four months.”

“You mean, until
you
decide,” I said, imagining Midnight holding this deal over the Shantel for generations.

“We can provide an itemized account so the payments can be clearly tracked,” Jeshickah replied immediately.

The response took me aback. I had expected her to challenge me, just to be cruel or petty. People said that Midnight was a business and Jeshickah prioritized trade as much as she expected everyone else to, but I hadn’t really believed it.

I bit my lip, made myself stop as soon as I noticed, and decided,
Fine. She responded to that challenge as if I were intending to bargain. She didn’t even seem angry that I had spoken up. If this is a negotiation … what can I get?

“You say you have lost profits, but the Shantel haven’t benefited from Midnight these past four months either,” I pointed out. “They haven’t used your markets, your messengers, or even your roads. They haven’t purchased any of your goods. What profits do they owe you on goods and services they haven’t used?”

The Obsidian guild didn’t pay taxes because we didn’t use most of Midnight’s services: we did not buy their food, have dedicated space in their markets, or use their roads to transport heavy carts full of trade goods through the forest. We were even careful not to spend more time on their land than we needed to in order to trade. The way the laws were written, if a shapeshifter nation was willing to forego everything Midnight offered—including an alternative to starving to death, for most of them—they didn’t technically
owe
the vampires anything.

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