Blood Oath (18 page)

Anca
frowned. “For what?”

“I was
your guard, assigned by Lord Nicodemus. If I had done my duty yesterday, you
would have been safe.” Tears glittered in her large amber eyes. “Please forgive
me.”

The
girl seemed perilously close to throwing herself to the ground and hugging
Anca’s legs. She smiled at the girl. “Don’t give it another thought. It wasn’t
your fault. I thought I would be safe with my sister.”

The
girl’s bowed head prevented her expression from being seen, but her body
language suggested she wanted to say something about that assumption.
Apparently, she reined in the impulse, because all she said was, “Thank you,
m’lady. You’re very kind.” Once again, the girl started to leave.

“Wait.
What’s your name?”

“Starr.”
With a quick curtsey, she hurried from the room.

Anca
shook her head, realizing she had met Starr before, during her arrival at the
castle. She had been one of the wolves curled by the fire. What a strange place
Corsova was. She wondered how many others she had met in their various forms,
and then wondered how many varieties of forms she might find among the
citizenry.

She
tried to dismiss her musings by turning her attention to the tapestries. A few
of the hangings depicted scenes in nature or fiercely scowling leaders—male and
female—in various finery from the ages, but a significant number portrayed a
more violent history.

There
was a tapestry showing the throat of a maiden ripped open by a tall man with
dark hair. She didn’t seem to mind the blood flowing down her skin and into his
mouth, if one judged by her sated expression. A shiver of mingled fear and
desire seized Anca. She tore her gaze from it to examine the others, letting
the images blur together, until she arrived at a particularly large one
displayed prominently on the far wall.

It
showed two women and a man standing in a semi-circle around a dais. A golden
chalice rested on the dais, and the younger man and woman of the trio each had
a hand around the base. Blood stained the cuffs of their dress and shirt. The
older woman’s wrist was slashed open, and her blood appeared to be filling the
goblet. A red moon shone brightly through the window displayed in the corner of
the tapestry.

The
picture evoked strange emotions in Anca—dread, longing, and a flash of memory.
She reached out a hand to trace the chalice she recognized from the vision she
had received the night Demi came to her shop. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

“Careful,
dear. That one is hundreds of years old, and the thread is weak. Even
restoration hasn’t completely salvaged it.” Though the woman’s voice was rough,
there was an underlying softness to her tone.

Anca
turned to eye the woman who she guessed to be Ylenia. She was a modest
five-two, if even, with a chubby build, wildly curling salt-and-pepper hair
bound in a precarious knot, and a white robe embroidered with tiny yellow roses
at the neckline and hem. She didn’t appear impressive enough to be the
spiritual leader of an entire culture.

She
winked at Anca, as though reading her thoughts. “Come sit with me, dear. We
have much to discuss.”

Anca
walked forward, taking the seat across from Ylenia as the older woman settled
into one. She watched as Ylenia poured two cups of tea into bone china cups,
sans handles, and passed one to her. She eyed it uncertainly. “What’s in this?”
She had vague memories of drinking something noxious the night before.

“Simple
oolong, Anca.” Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “I find tea settles my nerves
better than any spirits your father might enjoy.”

She
picked up the cup and swirled the contents, but didn’t drink. “Should I be
nervous?”

One of
Ylenia’s shoulders moved in a half-shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in
this situation myself. Always when counseling the next leader, they knew what
to expect.”

Anca
shook her head. “Expect from what?”

“The
Blood Oath.” Ylenia sipped her tea after adding a sugar cube. “I’m getting
ahead of myself. Valdemeer tells me you have no idea who we are…what you are.”

“Demi
keeps saying ‘our people’,” she said softly, finally sipping the tea. It was
strong enough to be bracing, but lacked the bitter aftertaste that often
accompanied tea steeped too long.

“We’re
vampires, dear.”

She
spat out the drink when she choked. Anca struggled to draw in a deep breath as
the coughing fit peaked and passed. Would she ever adjust to the blasé attitude
of the residents of Corsova? She could understand if they were all delusional,
but what had happened to her disproved that comforting theory. She couldn’t
doubt Ylenia’s sincere belief, which meant she had to either accept what she
was hearing or run away. She sighed, wondering why she found it so easy to
believe, but so difficult to embrace.

Ylenia
smiled. “I know it’s difficult for you, since you’ve been raised in the ways of
humans. Had your mother kept you in Corsova, you would have never known another
way. You wouldn’t doubt the veracity of my statement.”

“I
would have been brainwashed, you mean?” Anca asked harshly, although she didn’t
really believe any of the citizens had been indoctrinated in this lifestyle. As
difficult as it was to admit, it seemed to be their natural state. That didn’t
mean she wanted it to be second nature for her.

Ylenia
didn’t bother to retort. “It’s a shame you lost so much of your heritage, but
Katrine did what was necessary to save your life.”

“I
think she saved more than my life.” Anca set down the cup with a clink. “She
saved my sanity too.”

A
reproachful look appeared in Ylenia’s eyes. “Now, dear, don’t be like that. We
aren’t insane or brainwashed.” She shrugged. “We are what we are, which happens
to be vampires. You know I speak the truth, but you want to shy away from your
destiny.”

It
seemed imperative to continue to deny her place in their madness. She
challenged Ylenia with her chin tilted and her voice icy. “If you’re vampires,
why don’t you have any of the classic signs: Intolerance of daylight, ingestion
of blood, and the like?”

Ylenia
laughed. “Vampires aren’t quite the way the world fancies them to be, Anca…at
least not all vampires. We can move freely in sunlight and moonlight, we are
able to eat food, as long as we supplement our diet with blood—hence the
“special” Corsovan wine served with every meal. We aren’t immortal, but we are
long-lived.” She tilted her head. “If you were in a lighter mood, I’d ask you
to guess my age. I bet you would never say one-hundred-and-four.”

Anca
shook her head, not convinced. “So, where does the blood for the
wine
come from? I don’t see stacks of peasants’ bodies outside the walls of the
castle.”

“Not
every citizen in Corsova is a vampire—“

“Yeah,
there’re werewolves too,” she muttered under her breath.

With a
disapproving look, Ylenia said, “Our country is a haven—“

“So
I’ve heard.” She struggled to maintain an even tone, knowing losing control
wouldn’t gain her anything except a temporary reprieve from the knowledge she
had obtained…knowledge she had never wanted and yearned to escape from.

“Humans
also live inside our borders. In exchange for our protection, they’re happy to
keep us supplied with blood.”

“Happy
to, or afraid not to?” Anca asked archly.

A hint
of anger darkened Ylenia’s eyes. “We don’t believe in unnecessary violence.
We’re as civilized as humanity these days,” she said with a hint of sarcasm.

“It’s
a grave offense to kill any human on our lands, and the ruler metes out
punishment accordingly. Before Illiana, no vampire had taken the life of a
human in hundreds of years.” Lines creased her face. “Unfortunately, she seemed
to revel in bloodlust. She was also good at keeping her proclivities hidden, or
Valdemeer would have stopped her much sooner.”

Her
brow furrowed at the unexpected twist in the conversation. “Who’s Illiana?”

“Nikia’s
mother. That is for your father to tell you about, if he wishes. I didn’t mean
to deviate from our topic.” Ylenia set down the cup she’d been holding but not
drinking from. “My duty is to tell you of your past and future. In ancient
times, we were all vampires, and the blood we needed came from the animals we
hunted. As time passed, more and more stopped practicing our ways and became
human. As the world changed around us, we turned to a new source of
sustenance.”

A sad
expression settled on her face. “Our kind is few and outnumbered. We must
always carefully guard our secret, lest we be eradicated by those who would fear
us.”

Anca
sat in stunned silence, finding it more difficult to reject what she was
hearing in the wake of the old woman’s conviction. More than that, on an
instinctive level, she recognized the truth in Ylenia’s words. Memories of
people long dead flowed through her mind, showing her the way things had been.

Ylenia’s
eyes closed slightly. “Yes, you can sense them. Your link to our ways is strong
and growing stronger each day.”

Anca
shook her head. “No. You’re wrong. I won’t be stuck here. I know what you want
from me, but I’m going back to New York.”

“You
will turn your back on your father and your people? Your heritage?” Her tone
dropped to a whisper. “On Nicodemus? You will abandon your destiny, and for
what? Scratching out an existence in an overcrowded city, always yearning for
home? Once you set foot on our land, it became part of you. It is the way of
things.”

“This
isn’t what I want.”

“People
cursed with responsibility seldom want it. Only those strong enough to embrace
it survive their destinies.” Ylenia sighed. “You are destined to become the
next Protector of our people. The stars were in alignment on the night of your
birth, and the blood-moon draws near. Only you can take the Blood Oath.”

Anca
swallowed at the firm words, finding the words of rejection trapped in her
throat. Her voice was a timid whisper when she asked, “What is the Blood Oath?”

“There
is a price for everything.” Ylenia sighed again, and her age seemed more
visible suddenly. “How it began has been lost in time, but for most of the
history of our people, the Blood Oath has heralded the changing of Protectors.
Valdemeer is currently charged with guarding our race, but he grows old and
tired.” Her expression became pinched. “I fear he won’t survive another
forty-six years until the blood-moon returns. That’s why it’s imperative you
complete the ritual this time.”

“I
still don’t understand. What does it do?”

“It
can be a heavy burden, to be marked for the Blood Oath. Much is asked of the
Protector of our people. Once the ritual changes you, you become more like the
vampire you’re familiar with. Sunlight kills you, aging slows even further, and
you must never leave your lands. You’re tied to each drop of water in the lake,
each flower blooming on the mountains, each animal running through the forest,
and to the very soil of Corsova. To be without it would cause your death.”

Anca
blinked. “What? Why?”

“It
sustains and regenerates you, as does the presence of our people.” Ylenia
picked up her cup and took a sip of the tea before continuing. “In return for
your sacrifice, you are given two things of value. The first is a lifespan as
great as three hundred years. Valdemeer is nearing two hundred-seventy-eight,
but he grows tired.”

She
swallowed at the fantastical statement, somehow unable to muster the ability to
refute it. “And the second?”

“Each
Protector has a destined lifemate who undergoes the ritual too. Their life is
prolonged, and the burden is shared by two.” A soft smile creased her mouth.
“Nicodemus had grown impatient for Valdemeer to send for you. From the time he
was a child, he has pestered me with questions about you—even before you were
born. He was often frustrated by my lack of answers.”

Anca’s
eyes widened. Several of Demi’s cryptic statements suddenly made sense. “I can
reject him though, can’t I?”

Ylenia
looked displeased with the idea, but she nodded. “Of course. I have never known
of any Protector to do so, but it is possible. Do you wish to?”

Anca
made a non-committal sound as her heart lurched at the idea of refusing Demi.
Another question came to her. “So my mother was Valdemeer’s lifemate?”

Ylenia
shook her head. “No. Destiny chose Madra for him. I never knew her, but I’ve
heard she was a gentle soul and full of kindness. He adored her very much, and
they were happy together for more than a century. When she finally conceived,
I’ve heard they hosted a month-long celebration.”

She
frowned. “Then how did he end up with Nikia’s mother, and later married to
mine?”

“Madra
died of a mysterious illness.” Ylenia’s expression tightened. “It wasn’t until
much later it was discovered she had been poisoned. Valdemeer was heartbroken
when his wife and heir died, still in the womb, and he vowed never to marry
again, despite his obligation to produce the next Protector.”

Ylenia
refilled her cup, though she couldn’t have drank more than half of it during
their conversation. She automatically added more to Anca’s cup too. “Illiana
was an ambitious woman, and the details of her machinations are sordid. I’ll leave
the decision to tell you about it to the king.”

Anca
tapped her fingers impatiently against the table. “Yes, but how did he end up
marrying my mother?”

“Katrine’s
father was a close friend of Valdemeer. He made the match when your mother was
but a little child. I remember how terrified she was when she came for the
pledging ceremony.” Ylenia smiled, lost in memories for a moment. “I was still
an acolyte then, and my duties became entertaining your mother so she wouldn’t
cry.”

“Did
he love Mother?”