Secrets [5] Echoes: Part One (61 page)

“What is it?” I walked out into the cooler air of the corridor.

“It’s a gift,” he said, his eyes shrinking in that cheeky smile I loved so much on his brother. “But when you see it, and you ask yourself if it’s me or David—” He looked at me for a long moment before adding, “It’s David. It always has been.”

“Jase. I—that doesn't make any sense,” I said with a small laugh.

“It will.” He bowed his head and turned away, flitting off into thin air before my eyes opened from their next blink.

The world did actually feel a little bit emptier then, knowing he wouldn't be here anymore, but at the same time it felt full of hope and of something else I couldn't identify. Maybe excitement. Maybe instability. I thought for a moment about why I’d feel unstable. It wasn’t because Jase protected me. I had Falcon and I had Mike. And even David would go to great lengths to keep me safe. No, this feeling came from something else—perhaps from the knowledge that he was gone and that my rejection of Lilith’s plans for me were cemented in stone. Jason was moving on to better things, leaving me free to accept my unwritten future. Unsteady. Yes. I just felt a little unsteady, but not scared. More like apprehensively excited, because, for the first time, I’d chosen my own path. This road I walked was completely new—unwritten, unseen so far by anyone. And that meant it held all the possibility in the world.

“Ara?” Emily’s long fingers tapered over my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Did he tell you?”

“That he was leaving early? Yeah.” She nodded as I turned around. “We’ve said our goodbyes.”

I took a long breath, lifting both my shoulders, and let it out again, relaxing. “It’ll be so weird without him.”

“Yes, but at least he’s alive—and happy.”

“Yeah.” I looked at the empty corridor as though I might see him, thinking back to a time when I thought he was dead. “He deserves a bit of happiness. But now I need a new council member.”

“Well,” she said, walking back toward the dresser. “I hear there’s a king that might want back in.”

“You think?” I asked, shutting the door behind me. “I mean, I’ll offer. But I can’t deal with his high-and-mighty ways. If he comes back, he has to respect me.”

Emily laughed, her organza wings fluttering with the movement. “I doubt this sharp, snappy new queen you’ve become will sit back and let him be a jerk again.”

I thought about that for a moment, biting my lip as I looked back on memories of council sessions, blending my past reactions to David with my present self’s attitude. “Yeah. And I wouldn’t even have to say anything to shut him up. I’ve mastered my glare.”

“Glare?”

“Yeah.” I gave her a cold stare, but beyond the blue in my eyes was a steady and assertive spirit—one that meant business. “I’ve realised that giving orders isn’t just in the words you use. It’s the determination behind your eyes and even in the way you hold yourself.”

“Very true,” she said through a smile. “And remind me not to piss you off. That glare is a bit scary.”

“Ha! Good.”

“Knock knock,” Blade said, pushing the door open. “Is my queen and my perfect princess ready to … holy
shit
, Em.” He stepped all the way in, dragging his jaw with him. “You look … incredible.”

She sunk down a little in a shy curtsy. “Thanks.”

Blade rubbed his mouth, his wide eyes struggling to lift away from her. “I … so, uh … I mean, are you two ready then?”

“All ready.” Em stepped in and linked arms with me. “Oh, but, hang on a sec. I just need to fix up my mascara.”

Black candles in glass or silver pillars gave the entranceway a dark, enchanting kind of feel. The mirror by the front door and the glass dome above it reflected the warm glow, making shadows dance on the walls and floor as if the room was full of ghosts. I stood under the balcony by the doors to the Great Hall and waited while a crowd gathered outside, ready for a night of magic and splendour.

When the front doors opened and the guests ambled in with the crisp breeze, my smile greeted them, followed by a small bow of the head or a quirky remark about either their costume or their latest remarkable endeavour. I’d spent months studying every face of every official and, despite my exhaustion, starvation and barely masked symptoms of a breaking heart, I was not about to let all that work go to waste. They no longer saw me as just a young queen, standing with long-practiced grace by a ballroom, pretending to know them—pretending to be what they needed me to be; they greeted me like an entity of Divine power and strength, guarding the gateway to my glorious world—one they were permitted to see for just one night.

Each guest broke from the greeting line and tapered out into smaller clusters as they entered the Great Hall, depending on breed, social status or occupation. Those same groups remained intact as they moved around the buffet, filling small plates with canapés and sipping expensive wine, laughing and talking behind sparkling masks. Others converged along invisible boundaries, framing swirls of bodies as they circled in strange patterns, dancing to songs I’d never heard, using steps I didn’t know. I found myself glancing behind me every so often, trying to learn the moves, looking away again in complete awe of the way the Great Hall could change from a dining hall to an immaculate ballroom in such a short time. The designers had taken the fall theme and meshed it with something dark and mystical. The pillars under the balcony had been wrapped in artificial green vines, with twinkling fairy lights tucked away inside the leaves, while the six chandeliers had been garnished with black and purple crystals, dangling lowly, like glass threads for people to get snagged on if they were careless. The candlelight, the darkness and the ornamental embellishments seemed to bring the rooftop lower, closing the space in a little in a kind of pleasantly intimate way.

“Amara, lovely to see you,” a woman said, brushing past me and into the crowd before I even had a chance to remember her name.

“Oh, um, yes, lovely to see you, too,” I fumbled, and just as I turned back around, an older woman bombarded my personal space, leaning forward to kiss both my cheeks, not actually making contact.

“A pleasure, m’dear,” she said, then glided off like a glowing fairy godmother to join a gathering of masked and feathered old hens. She was Lilithian—old Lilithian, as was the lady before her, and both definitely before my time. In fact, all of the purple-haired old maids she was with were Lilithian. Most of the humans and vampires were down in the field, where the more entertaining festivities were being held, leaving nothing but a bunch of government officials and ancient Createds up here for the ball.

As I scanned the sea of masked faces, despite not recognising any of them, I felt a sense of pride and kinship being among so many of my own kind. And the effort these people had gone to for their costumes tonight was outstanding. Even the old men looked the part, in mystical and sometimes freaky masks, with black or white suits and a few heavy capes here and there, while the women were all sparkles and pale colours or glittering dark gowns in purples or emerald greens. It was a smorgasbord of spectrums for the eye and a concert of unheard symphonies for the ears. The guests were mostly ancient immortals, whose strange sentence structures, uncommon intonation and stiff, overly formal mannerisms took the Great Hall and all its occupants back in time to a place when men seemed more civilised purely for mingling in higher circles. And, tired as I was, it was just too easy to phase out among the rhythm of idle chatter and lose myself to absent thoughts.

Outside, the occasional crack of a firework broke through the ethereal cadence and a few of the more ancient guests would look up for a moment until the noise made sense. Even from here, in this room full of warm-blooded bodies, standing under a condensed fog of floral perfume and excessive amounts of hairspray, I could still catch the slight scent of the gunpowder and the woodsy smoke of a fire being burned somewhere out there in the fields. A big part of me longed to be down there now, with the fifteenth-century games and activities, experiencing a part of my soul’s past firsthand. But I was also looking forward to stealing my dad and forcing him onto the dance floor. As it was, he still owed me a father-of-the-bride waltz and, tonight, I planned to cash that in.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?” Quaid said, edging in between me and the wall, jamming his hands in the pockets of his black Core uniform.

“What does?”

“The festival outside. They’ve got corn-dogs down there.”

My nostrils flared a little but I couldn’t smell the corn-dogs, only the hot cinnamon doughnuts I knew they were selling under my oak tree. “Stop rubbing it in. You know I can’t go down there until I’ve dispensed with the formalities.” I presented a flat palm to the room of important people—all waiting for a word with the Lilithian queen.

“I know. Oh, hey!” he said with a wide pearly grin and a bounce. “Did you see me talking to the Prime Minister?”

“Which prime minister?”

“Australia.”

I smiled. He reminded me of a little kid telling his mom how high he went on the swing. “No, I didn’t see. But that’s very cool, Quaid,” I said, reaching up and patting his shoulder.

“Well, thanks,” he muttered, ducking his head. “I don't feel quite so special now.”

I laughed as he folded his bottom lip out and skulked away with his neck forward.

“You can probably join the party now, Ara,” Emily said, linking her skinny arm with mine. “I haven't seen any more cars come up the drive for about ten minutes.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” I rocked back on my numb heels to get the blood flowing and gently pinched my cheeks to get some colour. All this standing and greeting on an empty stomach made me feel a little woozy. “Do you think it’ll look bad if I go straight to the buffet?”

Her caramel eyes said exactly what I already knew.

“Yep. Right. So, work the floor first then.”

“That’s a good girl,” she said, patting me on the shoulder.

I stopped and looked at her sideways. “Did you just
pat
me?”

Emily laughed.

As I weaved through the maze of chests and shoulders, looking up into smiles and unfamiliar masked eyes, Emily stayed by my side, offering polite snippets of conversation when an awkward or quiet moment presented itself. I kept my eyes and ears out for my dad and Mike in the hopes that I might overhear some news about David—maybe good news, like that he was safely back in bed. Unconscious. But the only person I noticed was Falcon, standing conspicuously among the guests by the string quartet, all tall and sexy in his Core uniform. And something about the way he leaned in to Quaid, their heads nearly touching in deep conversation, blackened my hopes with an unnerving sense of dread.

“Attending the festivities tonight, my Queen?” a man asked, bowing respectfully low as he did.

“Mr Scott.” I bowed in return. “Yes, I think I will. I’m advised to try the apple bobbing and I’m quite eager to see a few of my knights present their combat skills in the arena.”

“Ah, yes, an event I’m very much looking forward to myself,” he said, his grey eyebrow moving up as he stepped closer. “In fact, I was rather curious about the talents of one Thomas Blade.”

“Oh, why’s that?”

“I’m a businessman, you see.” He drew his hand from his jacket and handed me a card. Emily reached across and took it for me, which Mr Scott pretended not to find offensive. “And a particular acquaintance of mine has expressed an interest in your man.”

“What kind of interest?” I asked, but I could feel Emily’s energy change; thicken, sort of.

“He has a … company.” His shifty eyes darted around the room as he said that. “One that sees to certain tasks, and these
tasks
require a team of soldiers—”

“He’s not for sale,” I snapped as politely as I could.

Mr Scott’s aged mouth popped in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Once my soldiers sign on with the Core, it’s an eternally binding agreement.”

I felt Emily shrink with relief beside me.

“Is that so?” he asked in a statement-like tone, his eyes small with anger.

“It is,” I said firmly, holding his gaze, not looking away for a second.

“Very well, my Queen,” he muttered and took off then with a blunt, “Good evening.”

“Good evening.” I waved cheerily and reached down to take Emily’s hand. “It’s bound to happen, Em. We’ve got some of the most skilled soldiers here. Of course the humans will want them.”

“I know. I just don’t like it.” She watched him mingle among the crowd. “What if they decide to just take without asking?”

“Then we go to war.”

“Seriously?”

“Very.”

“Even just to bring back
one
knight?”

“
Especially
to bring back one knight.” I reached across and sprung one of her golden curls. “We have to value all of our soldiers equally, Em, because if I’m not willing to risk everything for them, how can I ask them to risk anything for me?”

“Because they get paid to risk their lives,” a dry, tall voice said from behind.

Emily and I turned to the face of a nice looking young man, with light brown hair and wild, intelligent eyes behind a black velvet mask.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help overhearing.” He laid one hand to his heart and extended the other. “Mathias Freeman.”

I shook his hand, not really sure if that was a name he just offered or a challenge. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, your Majesty.” He bowed his head. “I must say, I am terribly impressed by the changes you've made in this community, but none more shocked or amazed me than this Pledge you've sucked the vampires into. No pun intended.” He laughed snidely.

“And why does it amaze you so?” I asked, trying really hard to keep my accusing brows level. But since they were behind a mask, I doubt he’d have noticed.

“Well, I’m not only amazed by the fact that vampires have actually signed it, but that you truly believe it’s possible for a vampire to abstain from killing.”

My eyelids fluttered a bit as the pupils focused on the backs of them while I drew a breath to begin my argument. “Look at it this way, and this is the exact argument I gave the lower council when they initially opposed it.”

“Please,” he offered smugly. “Do go on.”

My fist tightened by my side. I hid the obvious sign of my frustration in the folds of my dress. “As I was saying, if you took a child from infancy and taught it that, in order to survive, it needed to eat cheese every day—”

“Why cheese?”

“What?”

“Why cheese? Why not milk or grapes or—”

“It was the first thing that came to my mind.”

“Right,” he said, an arrogant grin moving his mask up his cheeks. “So, cheese every day?”

“Yes.” I exhaled, grunting slightly. “If you grew up believing you needed it to survive, it would take some time living without it before you truly came to realise that you didn't actually need it—that it was a habit forced upon you by either ignorant or cruel parents.”

“So you're saying vampires can survive on blood from a
cup
and that we’ve had that ability all along—we just…” the arrogance reached his eyes as they lit up like a long-hidden truth had come to light, “…didn’t know it?”

I bit my teeth together before answering with an overly-polite, “Something to that effect, yes.”

He laughed, tossing his head back. I got a very good look at his fangs then, and my belly rumbled embarrassingly. I was too hungry to put up with egotistical vampires.

The laughter ceased with a rather abrupt moment of eye contact. “How many have broken their vows so far?”

“Not as many as you might think.”

“Then how many do you think will—eventually?”

“I—”

“It has been tried over the centuries, were you not aware?” He waited a breath, as if I was supposed to answer. “Vampires that deny themselves the right to kill only end up taking more lives than they would if they'd just fed properly in the first place.”

“I’m aware of that. But the Pledge does not deny them the right to kill, only demonstrates their desire to
attempt
a life without causing death.”

“And these poor, misled vampires?” he spat. “Are they all
tainted
by their love for a
human
?”

I went to say no, but when I thought about it, it would more likely be closer to a yes. Very few vampires ever switched sides unless they either wanted a life somewhere outside the boundaries of their Set, or loved a human.