Bloodkin (23 page)

I shook my head. The images were already fading, and it did not take a genius to understand where they had come from. I was worried about Aaron and Misha, and I was
worried about what Midnight would do to us all. I did not want to face either fear, so in the dream I had decided to jump.

In real life, I didn’t have that luxury. I wasn’t the kind of person who could just run away from my problems, even if at the moment they seemed terrifying and insurmountable.

Some time away from the others might be good
, I thought. If Misha and Aaron really did take the throne, I could be happy for them at a distance. Aaron had expressed an intention to ally with the Shantel to fight Midnight. If that happened, I would hear about it and could still be involved. And if Midnight crushed Aaron and Misha and all our hopes, I wouldn’t be there to see it.

Maybe that was what Malachi meant. I needed distance from Misha and Aaron in order to wrap my mind around all the possibilities their relationship created.

Vance and I moved closer as we approached the edge of Shantel land. The air suddenly seemed colder, and thicker. Before when I had crossed into Shantel territory, I had a sense of welcome, as if no matter how I felt about it, the land still thought of me as a friend.

Not anymore.

“At least it probably won’t try to keep us,” Vance said under his breath. Gooseflesh was visible on his arms, and I could see the feathers at the back of his neck had lifted.

We pushed on. The forest had accepted our presence here, albeit grudgingly. Hopefully that meant it understood our purpose and was willing to let us accomplish it, not that it was going to drop us into a swamp or over a cliff.

“When this is over,” Vance said hesitantly as we moved through the trees, “and we have done what we need to do for the Shantel … can we disappear for a little while?”

“Disappear to where?” I asked.

“Anywhere,” Vance answered. “Whatever Aaron may be to you, he is nothing but a
prince
to me. He called them friends, but the people he brought with him to our camp were soldiers. I joined the Obsidian guild because I never wanted to be part of that again, on either side. I don’t want to be his subject, or his guard, or his companion or cohort.”

“Would you be interested …” I trailed off because the idea seemed stupid, but the curiosity in Vance’s eyes made me continue. “Marcel said, if I wanted, she would take me to find my parents. I wouldn’t stay there forever.” Marcel was probably right that life as a human would be stifling after the relative freedom of a child of Obsidian. “But it would be nice to see where I came from one more time.” I continued quickly, in case Vance had no interest at all in traveling with me to a human town, to meet humans who meant so much to me but nothing to him. “Regardless, I agree, I’m in no hurry to return to our would-be future queen.”

The phrase slipped out, and then I bit my lip as I realized where I had heard it: Gabriel.

“I would be honored to meet your parents,” Vance answered. In the reedy spring light filtering through the trees, his smile looked sad. “I wish I had someone like that, who I could look at and say ‘That’s where I came from. That’s who made me who I am.’ ” Another pause, and in a dark attempt at humor, he added, “Someone who wasn’t an evil, blood-drinking tyrant.”

We kept moving, eating while we walked instead of stopping for lunch. Like Vance, I wanted to get this over with. If Marcel wouldn’t take us to human lands, we would go somewhere else. We were the Obsidian guild’s youngest members, but we weren’t helpless. I couldn’t tackle a bear like Aika could, or make a gourmet meal out of cornmeal and gathered roots like Torquil could, but Vance and I knew enough about hunting and gathering that we wouldn’t starve.

You’ll miss them, though
.

Of course I would. I didn’t intend to leave them forever—just long enough for fate to decide what to do about Aaron and Misha’s bid for the throne, and for me to decide what I wanted to do about an Obsidian prince.

I kicked a pinecone in irritation. It flew up, startling Vance, and was caught by a Shantel guard.

“Finally,” I whispered. They must have been shadowing us for hours, ever since we crossed into Shantel land. Now
that they had shown themselves, we would probably make better time.

Their faces were grave, and they made no attempt to speak with us, only waved us ahead and then flanked us as we picked up the pace. They did not take our weapons away this time, which seemed like a good sign. We had threatened Shane in order to escape this forest, but surely it wouldn’t have let us back in unless it knew we were here to try to help.

Not soon enough, we entered the Family home at suppertime. Prince Lucas looked up from a barely touched meal with resignation when we entered.

“My father is looking for Shane,” he said. He added swiftly, “He isn’t missing. He has taken to spending his evenings in the woods instead of his normal quarters, so it sometimes takes a little while to unearth him. I will admit, we did not think you would return. Did you make it to Midnight?”

“Barely,” I answered, thinking of the way the forest had dumped us in the middle of serpiente royal guards. If that group had included Hara instead of Aaron, or if Aaron hadn’t been quite as swayed by Misha’s words about our guild, our story would have ended very differently.

“I’m sorry,” Lucas answered. I suspected he knew exactly where we had ended up. “I am glad you are safe.” The words were flawlessly polite, but his body vibrated with tension as he asked, “What did Midnight have to say?”

Vance handed him the sheath of papers from Jeshickah. “We convinced her to deal instead of just burning you out, but she didn’t accept the deal you offered. This is her counteroffer. You have one week … five days, now … to send a reply.”

Lucas skimmed the writing before him, eyes darting left and right as he tracked the letters that meant so little to me or Vance. As he read, Shane and their father entered the room. Shane’s eyes were red as if from exhaustion. I doubted he had slept at all since we had last seen him, and though he shook my hand in greeting, he kept a wary distance from Vance.

Lucas’s eyes narrowed. Had he come to the part about Jeshickah wanting a trained witch in addition to Shane?

“You must have expected something like this,” Vance said.

“As a possibility, yes,” Lucas answered, “but not a certainty.” He gave the papers to his father, then reached out a hand to his brother’s and squeezed it tightly.

Perhaps that was all the explanation Shane needed. He sat at the opposite end of the table without asking anything.

Lucas looked to his father as he said, “They aren’t happy just pulling our family apart, or demanding that we sacrifice someone else. Half of this is dedicated to taxes and fees and trade requirements. Little humiliations, just in case forcing us to give them the flesh of our people isn’t sufficient.”

“
That
is what has you most upset?” I asked. I tried to remember the little details Jeshickah had mentioned. Something about coming to the market to balance accounts, instead of making the vampires come to them … the little privileges that had kept the Shantel better off than the serpiente or avians. “You’re preparing to send them your brother, but you’re upset that they’ve insulted your pride?”

“You don’t understand,” Lucas said. “You’ve never needed to rule a people. What you call
pride
is the independence that gives us the power to protect those we serve.”

There was no point in arguing. I wasn’t one of his people, and I never would be.

“What kind of power does Midnight have on its side?” Lucas asked. “Can they do what they threaten?”

I pulled out the flint Stefan had given me and set it on the table. Just touching it made me feel grimy, and by the way the three Shantel men stared at it, I suspected whatever they felt was worse. Could they sense the magic in it?

“This was made by one of their witches. He claims it can burn just about anything. He encouraged us to have you test it.”

None of them reached for the flint.

King Laurence swallowed audibly. “I will speak to the sakkri about choosing a second—”

“No!” both Shane and Vance insisted.

Laurence looked to Vance first, but spoke to his son. “How would you suggest we make this decision?”

“Ask for volunteers,” Shane said. “Do not put this decision on the sakkri.”

I suspected that Shane did not want them consulting with the sakkri for his own reasons, but I supported the notion. “If anyone goes to that place as a slave, it should be by their own decision, not at the will of their king or witch.”

“Unless it was addressed in our absence,” Vance added, “we still have a different problem. Kadee and I made it to Midnight, negotiated, and came to an agreement, but the deal is off if you cannot deliver on your side of the bargain.”

“We have less than a week,” Lucas informed Laurence and Shane, “to decide what we want to do, and send a reply—with payment—to Midnight.”

“What I
want
,” Laurence said, “is not to sacrifice
anyone
. I want to stand proudly, and tell Midnight that no, I will never give them one of my people. To tell them that we will not pay their taxes, or allow their mercenaries in our land. But the end result would be the slow death of all my people by starvation, or the kidnapping and enslavement of anyone Midnight can get its hands on … or the swift finality of fire.”

His gaze fell to the flint in front of Lucas.

“So we compromise,” Lucas said softly. “But I do not want the guards to feel obligated to volunteer themselves. They signed up to protect us, and to give their lives if the situation called for it, but none of them promised their souls.”

“Agreed,” Laurence said.

“You speak to the people and try to find a volunteer, then,” Shane said. “I will tell the sakkri our decision, to make sure we can get out of this forest once an appropriate white lamb is found.”

“Good idea,” Laurence said. “I will speak to the head of the guard, and make it clear that I will not tolerate her pressuring any of her soldiers. We will all meet back here at dawn.”

Are they all completely blind?
I wondered, looking at Vance, who quirked a brow as if he knew exactly what was on my mind.

Shane knew why they couldn’t get out of the forest. Were Laurence and Lucas still so utterly in the dark? How did they explain their inability to control their own forest—reluctance on the part of the royal family? If so, it was pure idealism that blinded them. They knew the rules about the sakkri that held her separated from them all and maintained her holiness. They obviously could not imagine that Shane could have committed such a powerful taboo.

After his brother and father left, Vance said to Shane, “I assume you have not told them about your affair with the sakkri.”

“Let me speak to her alone,” Shane pleaded. “I can make her understand what needs to be done. Please … you do not know what my family would say, if they knew I
had—” He took a deep breath, and concluded simply. “I want them to remember me well. Please, leave me that.”

“Convince the sakkri that Midnight is a threat. Show her this.” I picked up the flint and pressed it into his hand. Shane tried to pull back, and I could see the hair on his arm raise as I closed his fingers around the flint. “I believe Midnight when they say they can burn your forest. You say you want your family to remember you well, but I am sure you do not want them all to die for you.”

AS EACH MEMBER
of the royal family disappeared, Vance and I found ourselves strangely unchaperoned, an odd occurrence on Shantel land, and a somewhat disquieting one.

Leaving the Family home alone was perhaps unwise, but that only occurred to us after we had done so. Whereas the forest had seemed malevolent, the ground here felt expectant. It might have been waiting for us to do something, or waiting to pounce
if
we did something.

Either way, it was disorienting. It was hard to judge the distance between buildings, and I found myself staying near to Vance out of fear that we would be separated.

We briefly glimpsed the deathwitch, but this time she wasn’t alone. The looks we received from those gathered around her fire, probably to mourn the young prince they were preparing to lose, sent Vance and me away quickly.

At last, we found Marcel at one of the common hearths. I considered asking about her offer to take me to human lands, and when she might be willing to make that trip, but she spoke first.

“I’ve volunteered to go with Shane,” she said.

“You— He— How did you even know?” I stammered. Laurence had said he would ask for volunteers, but that had been just minutes ago. When he said it, I hadn’t really believed anyone would offer without coercion. How could she have come to such a decision so quickly?

“I’ve gone many places, seen many things,” Marcel said. “The way I see it, this is just one more journey for me to take. My magic will not harm anyone, even if the vampires get control of it. I am young and healthy enough to meet Jeshickah’s requirements, but Andrew and I have been trying unsuccessfully for over a decade to have a child, so I have reason to hope I cannot give Midnight that satisfaction.” Her voice sounded calm, but I didn’t believe her.
Couldn’t
believe her. “I am not the only one who has offered, and I do not know who the king will choose, but I wanted to let you know … if I go, Andrew will help you search for your parents. He will want to leave here, anyway. If King Laurence does not choose me, then we will both travel with you, if you want us.”