Vampire Girl 3: Silver Flame (12 page)

"Yes, you did. Don’t lie. You know what we do to lying and thieving scum like you?"

"No. Please."

"String him up, boys."

The other two men grab the end of the rope and begin to tie it on a branch of a nearby tree, withered and barren of leaves.

Fen growls and rushes forward. "Stop. Now."

The vampires look his way and laugh. Continue their torture. How? And then I remember, the illusion. They don’t recognize Fen as the Prince of War.

Dean raises his arm. "Cut him down. Now."

This time, the vampires do pay attention. They pause. "Apologies, your Grace," says the big one. "But this one is my slave. I can do what I like with my property."

"You will cut him down," Dean says, and intensity in his eyes I’ve not seen before. "Or I will take your hand with my blade."

"Maybe we should, Roge," says the smallest of the three.

Roge, the big one, nods. "Very well. I meant no offense. Release him." They untie the rope, setting the Fae free.

I run to the man’s aid, helping him stand and whispering an incantation to help with his pain. He is covered with purple bruises, and my spell does not do enough. "I need to take him to a healer. Is there one nearby?"

Dean points to a tree in the distance. "There’s a healer in the building there. Faster than trying to find Baldar."

I nod and help the Fae forward as his accusers disappear down an alley.

"I’ll come with you," says Fen.

"No. I’ll be fine. You’re of more use here, planning how to retake Stonehill."

He pauses, then nods and returns to the courtyard with Dean.

I venture forward with the Fae, making small talk, and learn his name is Lars. The sky grows grey as we walk, and mist begins to form around our feet. "A storm be coming," says Lars. The words send him into a coughing fit, and we rest for a moment before continuing.

As we approach the tree, I see it's far larger than I imagined, towering over the nearby houses. It is grey and dead, and I wonder if this is one of the great trees Baldar spoke of. I notice holes and passages carved into the trunk high above, and I wonder if that's where he lived.

At the base of the tree stands a structure of white and gray stone, built so part of it wraps around the trunk. It's a large location and full of space. Inside, I see dozens of beds filled with men and women suffering from various injuries and ailments. There are vampire, Fae, and Shade. It seems all are welcome here. Healers scurry about, their white gowns grey with dust and sometimes red with blood. One woman catches my eye. "Seri?"

She finds my gaze, her short bob pinned away from her face. She was the one who taught me basic healing in Asher’s realm. But… "What are you doing here?" I ask.

She blinks twice. "Excuse me. Do I know you?"

Right. The illusion. I want to tell her who I am, but I can’t be sure who’s listening. Any one of these patients could let the information spread. "I helped to treat the wounded at Sky Castle. You taught me how."

"Oh. I’m sorry. I don’t remember."

I shrug, smiling. "I wasn’t there very long. This man, he needs help."

"Of course," says Seri. She helps Lars to a bed and gives him a tonic for pain. I bring clean sheets and examine his wounds. The whole time, her face seems confused, and I think perhaps she is sensing I am more than I appear.

After a minute, Lars doses off, resting with the remedies we gave him, and Seri turns to me. "You want to stay a while? I need more like you."

"Sure." I know Varis will not be happy, since he needs to train me, but I need to feel helpful in the moment. I need something to ease the pain of my nightmares. Of what I allowed to happen to Daison. Of what I may allow still.

"What's your name again, I don't remember?" asks Seri.

"Um… Diana."

"Very well. Nice to meet you Diana. Come, I need help with another patient."

I nod, following her to another bed, and help set a woman’s broken leg. "So many injured," I say later, sitting on an empty cot, looking around.

Seri leans against the wall, eating some kind of leaves from the pack tied around her waist. "Most were injured in the battle of Stonehill, fighting against the Fae. Others are just unlucky or careless."

She offers me a leaf, and I accept. The chewing is difficult, but the taste is nice and it's surprisingly filling. "What brought you here?"  I ask. "Aren’t you Keeper to Prince Asher?"

Seri sighs, leaving a leaf half eaten. "Things are changing up north for Fae and Shade. People are being hung and beaten for no reason under Levi’s rule, and his influence is spreading. Asher allowed me to travel south for my own safety."

I think of Lars, almost hung on that tree. He healed enough to leave a few minutes ago, and I wished him well. "It seems, even here, Fae are in danger like never before."

Seri shrugs. "Times have been hard for our folk before. We always survive."

Her words touch me more deeply than she can know. For I am the reason things are changing for the worse, and I am the one who must make it better. Instead I sit here, talking, eating tasty food. "Seri, I—"

Someone screams, and we both turn, looking at the man being brought in through the back. I stand up, and the healers lay him down on the bed as I examine the wound. His belly is covered in blood, cut deep by something. A sword.

Seri gives him a tonic for pain and a piece of wood to bite down on, something to stop the screaming and help prevent him from biting his own tongue.

"Someone assaulted this man," I say, continuing my examination. "Fairly recently. They missed the major organs, or he’d be dead, but he could still bleed to death. I need string and a needle and—

Something catches my eye. A tattoo of a serpent. A tattoo I saw only in Avakiri.

"This man is a raider."

Seri nods, bringing the string and needle. "He must have never escaped back to the Outlands. Must have gotten lost and found his way here."

I step back, my hands shaking. The raider. He would have been part of the attack on Stonehill. Part of the reason Daison is dead. "We can’t help him."

Seri grabs my hands. "We are not warriors. We are not lords. We are healers. And we help all those who need our aid." She turns back to the raider, the patient, and begins cleaning off his wound.

I catch my breath, the shock of my memories wearing off, and join her, preparing the stitches. Once we are finished, Seri wraps the wound with clean bandages, and then washes her hands. "You did well," she says, glancing at me. "The first time is always difficult. Treating someone who has caused you pain."

I lean back against a pillow, sighing. "It should have been easier. I don’t care for pain. Only peace. Only healing."

"That is how it should be. But all of us have darkness within. Sometimes it comes to the surface. A reminder of why we must keep it at bay."

I think on her words. Perhaps there is a reason behind the suffering and pain, a purpose to my thoughts of vengeance against Levi and Metsi. Perhaps they remind me to do better, to be good.

"Thank you," I say.

"For what?"

"For reminding me I can still do the right thing."

***

The sun is setting by the time Seri tells me to go home. "I’ll need you tomorrow, so get some rest." I try to argue, but she runs this Healing Tree, and so I leave, traveling back to the palace, admiring the gold hues on the horizon. Something catches my eye.

A tree.

A man.

A rope.

Lars hangs from a withered branch, his face pale and blue, his body still. They hanged him. When no one was looking. They killed him. And I could do nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

How could you bring this upon us?
The voices echo in my mind.
You were our friend! You were our friend and you let us die!

I push away the thoughts and climb the tree, then untie the rope. I take what remains of Lars into my arms, and I weep for what has been done. And later, when the sun has set, and my tears are gone, I carry his body to the palace, to Dean’s room, and I lay the body at his feet. "You will give him a proper burial," I say. "You will give him the respect of a free man."

Then I head to the east wing and find my friends.

I stand in the doorway of the room, uncertain if I should go in, but they both look up and smile at me. "Oh darlin’," says Es, half-awake, laying in a white bed with Pete at her side. "I had the nastiest dream. My hair was all messed up."

I smile and cross the room to hug her.

And then I tell them everything.

From the beginning.

About my death.

About the deal my mother made to save me.

About the deal I made to save her.

They’re both more shaken than shocked by the story, maybe because they’re here in Inferna, seeing the truth with their own eyes.

"You could have told us," says Pete, his eyes cold. He reminds me of the way Ace looked when he learned that Fen tried to kill their father. And I decide to never hide the truth from people I care about again. I only hope I still have time to remedy what has passed.

"I tried to protect you from this world," I say. "I didn’t want anyone sacrificing their life, their happiness, to try and help me. But I know, now, I should have told you. I should have let you make your own decision."

Pete nods, and then a warmth enters his eyes I haven’t seen since we reached Inferna. The tension leaves his body and he begins to weep.

And so I hug him.

And hold him.

And the three of us talk through the night, laughing about the past, and remembering how good it feels to have friends.

"I want to be king. Out of all my brothers, I think I would be the best choice. Out of all of us, I alone want peace. I alone want to end this war. And with you, I know I can."

—Asher

Dean does as
I ask, and Fen holds me as we attend the funeral for Lars the next morning, Es and Pete at my side. It is a quiet affair. Only the five of us.

Later that day, Varis resumes my training.

We study at the library I stumbled upon, pouring over books. Varis shows me a spell to translate the language of the Fae into any language I know, and I begin to make quick progress on my reading.

"The amount of knowledge here is astounding," says the Druid, as he studies the different shelves and their contents. "I thought the vampires would have destroyed such volumes. Some of these have even been lost to Avakiri."

I think on it, grateful for the distraction from mathematical spells. "The Princes of Hell still rely on magic for ease of life. They have Keepers and others who cast spells. These Fae must learn somehow."

Varis rubs his chin, studying a particularly dusty volume. He seems enthralled by the writing. "Yes, I believe you are right. I suppose I always thought the knowledge was passed down orally, through storytelling and lessons."

"It usually is," says a new voice. Dean, standing in the hallway, his shirt off again, his muscles glistening under the golden hue of the lanterns. He looks a god amongst his domain. Perfect and powerful.

"My brothers burned most of the Fae texts they came across," he continues. "But I would not part with such knowledge, such beauty of language." He walks forward and pours himself a drink from a bottle on the table. He offers me one, but I shake my head.

"We are studying," says Varis.

Dean grins. "And I’m offering to make it a little more exciting."

The Druid shakes his head.

I sigh and reach for the drink. "Why not? I’ve studied all day, and yet I’ve learned nothing to help me fight."

Dean’s eyes go wide, and he turns to the Druid. "What are you teaching her, old man?"

"Old what—"

"Yami needs to learn combat, tactics. Don’t you Yami?" The dragon nods, licking his lips at our wine. "You see?"

Varis sighs, sounding very old indeed. "There are basics to be mastered first."

I take a sip of the wine, enjoying the sweetness of the drink, and make sure to keep it away from my rebellious dragon. "But I have fought with Yami before. Once, when Oren nearly killed me, Yami changed, grew larger than this room, and fought off Riku, the Fire Spirit, himself."

Varis sits down, closing his book. "Spirits can muster power when threatened. But it is a dangerous form."

Zyra, his silver owl who sits on a nearby shelf, nods.

"How do we access it?" I ask.

"You don’t. Not intentionally. Not unless it is absolutely necessary and awakened on its own. Like the time you describe."

I groan, closing the boring spells before me. "There must be a way."

"No," says Varis, not skipping a beat. "There is none." He glances at the book in his hands. Then back at me.

I study the volume. It is pitch black with a unique leather binding. Ancient Fae glyphs decorate the spine.  "That one looks interesting."

"It’s not. Well, not for you anyway. It is a history of the fifth Air Druid and is primarily a description of his many political meetings."

Somehow, I just don’t believe him.

Varis clears his throat. "It is late. And time for rest. I will be in my quarters if you need me." He stands and leaves the library, Zyra on his arm. Though he tries to hide it, I see the black volume peeking out from under his robes.

Dean pours me another cup of wine. "Now, how about we have some fun?"

I glance between him and the mathematical tome before me. "Fun it is."

***

It's dark by the time we leave the palace, Dean dressed in a black vest, me in my two layers of white. "We should find Fen?" I say.

Dean raises an eyebrow. "And pull him away from training?"

"Right. Fen does prefer swords over… well… anything."

"Then let him have his fun while we have ours." Dean bows and offers me his arm. "Come, the games are about to begin."

"Games?"

"You’ll see, Princess." His eyes sparkle with excitement. "And then, you’ll wish you could stay here forever."

I chuckle, taking his arm and letting him escort me forward. On the way, various women wink and purse their lips at Dean, their delicate clothing revealing perfect bodies with long legs and smooth skin. "Come visit me later," they say in voices that remind me of song. "And who’s the new girl? Moving on already?"

Dean addresses them each by name, promising to… visit… with them later. If, of course, he’s not taken. He winks at me.

And I roll my eyes. "I see you get around."

"My realm has a very open view of sexuality," he says. "The focus is on enjoyment and consent, a beneficial experience to all parties. The things some of these women can do. You should see one day."

"Um. No thank you." I have no interest in his offer, yet a part me wishes my world was more like this one. Where woman don’t have to struggle with consent and assault throughout their lives. I’ve known a few, back at the Roxy, who fought every day to protect themselves from abusive boyfriends and nasty bosses. It scarred them. Perhaps, if they could have grown up here, things would be different.

We leave the women behind, and the streets begin to clutter with more people, all pushing toward one destination: An arena, at least ten stories high, built from white pillars covered in purple vines. Dean escorts me in, to the second level, and what appears to be the best seating, a private box overlooking the area below. "The perks of being a prince," he says, as we take our seats on a plush burgundy couch and slaves bring us grapes and wine on silver platters. I hate benefitting from the injustice, but I know I can do nothing yet, so I accept the food graciously, thanking the Fae and making sure they know they are appreciated. A part of me wants to resist, decline everything they bring me, but I know that will make them more worried than happy.

Plopping a grape in my mouth, I study the arena below. It is a pool of clear water, dotted with islands of white rock. An announcer calls out, "And here she is, lords and ladies, the unmatched champion of Moonlight, the Dancer of Waves, Callisia!"

The crowd, hundreds of men and women and children, roar in applause, causing the very sofa beneath me to shake. The energy is intoxicating, but I worry for what's about to happen. "These aren’t gladiator games, are they? Where people kill each other? Because if so, I’m not interested."

Dean smirks and gives me a wink. "Don’t worry, Princess. This is far, far more interesting."

I frown, still skeptical, and turn my attention back to the arena. Callisia enters through a steel gate, wearing black armor that hugs her curves and reveals her legs and stomach. Of course… so practical. She hops from stone to stone, leaping further than any mortal human could, and, once in the center, pulls a long red cloth from her belt.

"And now," says the announcer, "the Reaper!"

Suddenly, a giant fish leaps out of the water, it’s large mouth and razor sharp teeth aimed at Callisia. The performer dodges, her red cloth drifting behind her. The fish falls back into the water. Its body reminds me of a shark, but its fins are long and wide, making me think of a manta ray.

Dean nudges me. "First time seeing a Windshark, huh?"

"Yeah," I say, my eyes glued to Callisia as she avoids attack after attack, luring the Windshark with the red fabric. It reminds me of bullfighters back on earth. But because Callisia is a vampire, she evades and maneuvers in ways no human can, leaping over the arena, twisting and twirling in the sky, a streak of red and black.

"They live in the oceans of Inferna," says Dean, pointing at the Windshark, "but sometimes they travel upstream, through the rivers. The fact that they survive in fresh water makes them one of the deadliest predators in the land. A live one sells for quite the fortune."

I nod, clapping as Callisia jumps into the water, then back out as the Windshark bites at her feet but never touches flesh. The event fills me with adrenaline, and I barely stay in my seat.

"Isn't this fun?" asks Dean.

"There’s a beauty to it. And I can’t even imagine the skill it takes to survive. I had imagined something far more barbaric."

"I never fail to surprise. How about—"

"Prince Dean!"  a young Shade runs into the private box, panting. "I’m sorry Your Grace, but I have urgent news," he says.
Dean stands, concern flashing in his eyes. "Tell me."

"The north-eastern caravan…"

"Yes?"

"It’s gone, Your Grace. Raiders. Took all the goods and killed all but a few men who escaped."

"But that’s a new route. There is no way they could know…" Dean rubs his chin, his eyes growing dark. "Make sure the families of those who perished are provided for. Now go."

The man bows and leaves, as Dean sits back down, trembling with rage. "It appears Fenris was right. There is a spy in my realm. How… how could I have allowed this?"

I touch his hand, hoping to calm him. "Don’t blame yourself. The spy could be anyone in a realm of thousands."

He shakes his head. "Only those with power knew about the route. And Keepers know more than most."

My jaw falls. "Baldar? You think it was him? But he’s so kind."

"And he’s a Fae. A Fae who lost his home and family when we took over his lands. Why wouldn’t he betray me?"

"Just… don't do anything you’ll regret. Everyone is innocent until proven guilty."

He chuckles. "It’s not that way here, Princess. Though perhaps… perhaps it should be." He sighs, and I see some happiness return to his face. "Very well, I won’t punish anyone yet, but I will keep a close eye on Baldar and the rest of my servants."

I smile, letting him know I approve.

He smiles back, then looks disappointed. "I’m sorry, Princess, but I’ve lost interest in the match. Perhaps, you’ll accompany me somewhere else?"

I blink, surprised the Prince of Lust could grow tired of something as exciting as a fight, particularly one involving a woman in sexy armor. Perhaps he’s more complicated than I gave him credit for. "Sure."

He escorts me outside the arena, away from the crowds, and into a maze of bushes and vines. "Are we going to play hide and seek?" I ask, as Yami flies off my shoulder and looks around.

Dean grins. "As fun as that would be, no. The maze hides something more precious." He guides me through a series of turns, until we reach an ornate white door. We step through.

And into a grove I did not believe could exist.

Giant trees, reaching past the clouds, surround a clearing of grass and flowers. These are behemoths of nature, blocking out the stars, making me seem inconsequential in their presence. I wonder if these are the trees Baldar spoke of. The ancient forests that burned.

Dean guides me down into the grove, and we lay on the soft grass that smells of mint and honey. The Prince lays a hand on one of the trees, caressing the bark. "When my father invaded this land, he set fire to the forests and buildings, burned all in his path until victory was his. Somehow, this grove survived. It was when I discovered it that I decided to fight for this realm as my own."

I lean up. "What do you mean fight?"

"The seven realms were not always so. After the invasion, the land had to be divided up, and my brothers and I were all allowed to make a case for which we preferred. I requested this land, because of the grove, because of the beauty that remained here. Niam talked about using it for cheap wood, Levi for burning it down as a symbol, but I would not have it. These trees are more than bark and leaves. They are a part of this land's history, a part of its culture, and that must be protected."

"Fen would have been a child at the time, yes? So did your father pick his realm for him?" I ask. It must have been such an elaborate dupe for everyone to pretend Fen had been one of them all along.

"Fen's realm didn't exist at the time," he says. "It was part of the Outlands. It was wild, which is why his realm sits at the edge of our kingdom and is the most desolate and untamed. High Castle was considered a realm, and my father was the seventh prince, the seventh curse. Have you not figured it out yet? Fen isn't cursed, not with what we are. There's a reason he's the Prince of War and not the Prince of Wrath, as the seven sins would have him. My father, the prince turned king, is the true Prince of Wrath."

I have so many questions, about Fen and his brothers and Lucian. "So what happened when you claimed this realm?" I ask.

"I was sure my father would side with one of my brothers, but he surprised me. Though it was thousands of years ago, I still remember clearly. I remember when he told me the news. He grasped my shoulder and said, ‘Though we no longer live in the Silver Gardens, I would never wish to see them burn,’ and then he left. It was one of the few moments, I think, that we truly understood each other. And because of that, I will never forget."