Page 76 of Xantera
Lucan,I sigh.What if these are all just more locked doors? We get freedom to move about the palace, but it’s not like they’re going to let us just see anything they don’t want us to see.
The only thing we can do is keep trying.
I nod to myself and push on. The next is locked, and the next, until the sound of door hinges squeaks across the hallway.
I stop dead in my tracks and press my back against the nearest door, sucking in as much of my body as I can behind the wide door frame. Thankfully, the footsteps recede, and I poke my head out just as a servant enters another room at the far end of the hall.
Before I can think twice, I’m beelining for the room she just exited.
I can sense Lucan’s hesitation, how much he wants to tell me to turn around, but instead he says,Quickly, Saskia.
Slipping inside, I blink against the darkness. Tristan was right. These rooms are much smaller, with minimal furniture and a small bed in the center of the room.
It eerily reminds me of the patient rooms in the Healing Center. Sterile. Cold.
The human-sized lump under the covers looks unnatural. Holding my own, I wait to see the rise and fall of a breath, proof that they’re alive.
Finally, a slow drag shatters the unnatural stillness. They’re alive. Just sleeping.
I creep toward them, a face coming into view. And though it’s not my mother, relief still washes over me.
They’re only sleeping, I reiterate to Lucan.But it’s not my mom. I’m going to keep looking.
Careful,he says, despite how much I can sense he wants me to return to my room and never leave again.
I peek out into the hallway to find it empty once more. The next two rooms I find unlocked are more of the same—a bed, a sleeping body, and a chill in the air that feels like stone.
After hearing the servant’s footsteps retreating now down the stairs, I slip into the last room of the dead-end that she left unlocked.
This one is a little brighter from the sun peeking through the curtains of the only window I’ve seen so far.
I can already see the peaceful face of a woman lying on the bed, sleeping. Maybe caught in a dream from the faint smile on her lips.
I watch her for a minute, unnerved by how still she seems—and how familiar, too. She’s not my mom, either, but there’s something about her features that rings a bell in the back of my head.
Taking a step forward to reassure myself I’m not seeing things, the floorboard underneath my foot creaks.
And her eyes fly open.
On the peak of the tallest mountain, where I can overlook the entirety of what used to be Veradel, I come to a halt at the same time that Saskia’s breathing does.
Up here, the air nips at my skin, but the frigidity taking root in my bones doesn’t come from the elevation. Something hasn’t felt right about the Chosen Ones—and what happens to them—this entire time.
Back in the ghost town, I grew up hearing stories from the elders who survived the war. Rumors and superstitions. Pure guesswork that boils down to two impossible options: either the Chosen Ones die, or they turn into vampires themselves.
Well, obviously the first one isn’t exactly true. If the Chosen Ones died immediately, the people of Xantera would have risen up sooner than now, revolting in the face of true, random sacrifice.The balconies give them false hope—and planted evidence—that all is well.
But now we know the Chosen Ones don’t turn into vampires, either. They seem to react strongly to the Guardians’ bites, yes, but nothing that doesn’t end up fading. Almost like a drug that has to circulate their system before their bodies metabolize it.
The thought has my vision flashing with red. If anything’s going to get Saskia high and giggly, I’d rather it be my cock driving her out of her damn mind, orgasm after orgasm, but…
Focus, Lucan, for fuck’s sake.
I hone my focus downward, spearing the Blood Moon Palace with my eyes as if I can see Saskia through the walls. Through our connection, I can feel that she’s trembling as she stares at the Chosen One in bed, and frankly, I am, too. Because I have a feeling that vampire venom isn’t just degrading their bodies until they pass away in their sleep. I just wish I could wrap Saskia up and keep her blissfully unaware of her reality until I find a way to get to her.
But that isn’t right either.
Although a part of me wants to shield her from the horrors of the world she knows nothing about, she deserves to know what the vampires she thought she could trust are doing. She deserves to know what happened to her mother, what’s going to happen tohernow that those fangs pierced her skin and flooded her veins with venom. And she isn’t weak. Despite being molded since birth to cower, to suppress herself, to fall in line—she wants to fight.
