Page 26 of The Crimson Princess
“Understood,” I say, despite the fact that I don’t understand where his head is at one little bit nor do I appreciate being spied on by his guards.
He waves his hand in dismissal and I reluctantly oblige, anger bubbling inside me as I finish my path down the stairs, but once I’m there, I simply can’t bite my tongue, no matter what the consequences. I whip around in confrontation. “The moment you announce the marriage plan, the druid prince will be our future. If I were you, father, I wouldn’t announce. Keep it to ourselves or you might just find yourself losing control.” With that, I don’t wait for his reply. I hurry away and I’m rather shocked I do so without his delaying me.
Once I’m finally in the privacy of my room, I begin to pace. And pace some more. My father is wildly biased toward the vampireking, and my mother knew it. There’s a reason she intervened once before. And now it’s my turn. I need to speak to Toren, King Toren, for I do not trust the druids, not even to a small degree. And I have a bad feeling my father and the druids intend to start a war with the vampires I cannot allow.
War is not the answer especially when it ends stable peace.
I consider a galbird to send Toren a message, but quickly nix the idea as problematic. My father knows I left last night. He’ll be monitoring my activity. And as I always did when he was peeping through the vines at my every move. I’ll wait until the midnight hour, when I’m assumed to be sleeping, and slip outside the castle walls.
I’ll go find Toren myself.
Chapter thirteen
Asdarknessdrapesthekingdom and slumber amongst the gales is near epidemic, I strap a holster to my leg, where I sheath my guardian blade, and do so nice and snug over the leather of my pants. The idea that leather doesn’t tear is a joke, though it’s thicker than basic cloth, which is a welcomed advantage. But the real upside of leather is the nasty way it tastes to the zombies, therefore, it became my hunting uniform a long time ago. Only tonight, I’m not hunting zombies. I’m hunting the king of the vampires.
My first ever vampire, though I suspect Toren won’t be my last.
I leave behind the dagger Ambrose gifted me, choosing not to play with outside magic I do not know, when since the change, I barely know my own.
It’s the straight up midnight hour when I escape through a literal dungeon window of the castle to our rear gardens and do so dressed in the same pitch black of the obsidian night. The clouds are low and dense, the howls of the frostburns who inhabit the nearby forest, lifting in the air. Frostburns resemble wolves with the fangs and claws of a tiger, the white of their fur a canvas for ancient magic. And right now, they’re hunting prey, I’d rather not be me, but I still head their direction. The heavily wooded terrain is not only the fastest path to Toren’s location, but a guarantee I won’t be followed.
The forest is not friendly.
But then, while out hunting, neither am I.
Another howl pierces the silence, almost as if the frostburns beckon me. The frostburns do not like royal blood, or so it’s whispered in our villages, a false narrative with only half truth, I’d learned firsthand years before. I’d been in the forest, hunted by the frostburns, and bitten by one of the majestic creatures. The beast had died, after brutally convulsing and foaming at the mouth.
Turns out, much like the tales of the vampires of old, frostburns crave blood, but royal blood is poison to them. I wonder if that’s true for vampires? If Toren dares cross me, he might just find out, but I suspect the king of vampires to be far too clever to end in such a simple way.
I clear the line of the forest, and pause, allowing my eyes to adjust to the thick inky cloak suffocating the closely knitted and towering Mallwood trees; trees that climb into the sky, beyond the eye’s reach, far taller than any tree in any other lands. I hold steady, seconds ticking by, and my vision sharpens. A fortunate gift of the highborns is night vision, an ironic twist of fate considering they are rarely the ones in battle who need it the most. I start moving again, my pace rapid but cautious, my entire body on alert, but unchanged by the transition it seems.
I feel the same.
Perhaps a façade and a dangerous one at that, as unpracticed magic can be as volatile as an unpracticed human holding a gun. Sometimes it ends up being turned on them.But I am no novice with magic, I remind myself, and focus on my destination.
The Crescent Moons village where Toren resides this week is a short run for any who dare risk mayhem and danger in the forest. Those curious about the village’s name are not curious for long, as it literally sits in the middle of what looks like two crescent moons resting on the bottom of their curves. The crescent moons amount to the human pyramids for us as they’re ancient and originate from an unknown source.
I cut deep inside the heavily wooded forest, the predators awaiting me eerily silent, and while I am discreet, it’s hard to avoid a crack of a branch here or a twig dropping there. Without questionit’s known that I’m here, and so it becomes about whether or not any of the beasts within wish a confrontation. I’m ready if they do, in fact I welcome every opportunity to keep my skills sharp. Seems I might soon be battling the druid who wishes to drag me into his bed.
The terrain is familiar and it’s not long before I reach the open alcove where the masterpiece that is the Crystal Pond awaits my approach. The pond that glistens with every color in the universe, even in darkness. To gales it’s a sight to behold, a promise that there is always more to behold, more this lifetime has to offer. But to the beasts in the forest, it’s simply a cold drink of water.
In other words, it’s survival to them and magic to us.
No matter how you try to pass through these woods, the magic in the forest always brings you here. You must drink from that water to leave this place. Should you fail to do so, should you reject the Crystal Pond, you will wander aimlessly until you cease to exist.
I step to the edge of the tree line, and study the clearing, allowing my magic to reach toward the pond and beyond. What I find sets my pulse racing, adrenaline pinching at my veins. The awareness within me is not animal but rather a powerful source of magic, not yet close enough for me to identify the carrier. All I know is that whoever walks these woods with me is far more dangerous than the beasts who might try to label me as prey.
It’s now or never, and I dart toward the pond, closing the steps between me and it, and once I’m at the edge, the moon is a beam illuminating the rainbow of colors beyond the imagination. It’s mesmerizing and blinding at the same time, as hypnotic as a snake, leaving its prey vulnerable to attack. Shaking off the spell, I kneel, scoop my hand inside the pond, and sip the icy cold water. Magic burns a path down my throat, and when the water glistens with a mix of gale green, I know I’m granted permission to leave these woods this night. This small reward is ripped away from me as I bristle with awareness. On edge, I push to my feet and whirl around, blanching at what I discover.
A pack of at least a dozen five-foot-tall frostburns stand in a wide circle, facing me,confining me.They are, without question, stunningly gorgeous and brutally lethal. This is not my first time being trapped by predators; in fact, I’m in my element. I ease my hand to my thigh, and slowly unsheathe my blade, slipping it from the leather, holding it in ready position at my side.
The frostburns flatten, flush with the ground, all of them lying down in unison.
It’s in that moment, that magic rushes over me and out of nowhere, Toren appears by my side. “Is the ability to tame the beasts new or old?”
I’m aware of the vampire king in every possible way, but I don’t dare tear my eyes from the frostburns , “You can blink,” I accuse. “No one knows you can blink.”
“I don’t blink,” he says, his tone slightly indignant, as if having such a sought-after skill is an insult. “I’m simply very fast when I want to be.”
