***
“You have to give David the real dagger!” I slammed Arthur’s bedroom door behind me.
The gentle hum of his violin stopped in an abrupt and high-pitched screech as he looked up in shock. “And why on God’s good earth would I ever do that?”
“Because he’s going to kill Drake.” I held strong, reshuffling my feet as if standing tall on a rocky boat. “If he has the wrong dagger, Drake will kill him.”
Arthur rested his violin in its stand by the fireplace and stood motionless for a moment, exhaling through his nose.
“Arthur, he knows Drake’s in Romania.”
“I know.” He appeared by my side, and guided me by the wrist to the long oak table in the middle of the room. “Take a seat, my dear.”
“I don’t want to sit,” I said, sitting. “I want you to promise me you’ll give him the real dagger.”
All Arthur offered in response as he sat down across from me, though, was a long sigh into his fist; his thoughts lost a million miles away. “What has he told you?”
“He told me his father knew about this blood curse and this connection to Lilith, which means you had to have known, Arthur, how can you not? You—”
“Okay, I’m going to have to stop you there, Amara.” He held his hand up. “I knew about the Cursed Blood of Knight, yes, and I argued with David for three hours about telling you the truth. He overruled me, princess, and you’re his wife. I’ve no place going against his wishes.”
“But I’m your friend,” I said in a shaky voice. “Doesn’t that count?”
“Yes. And that is precisely why I sat in that day Jason was helping you read the scrolls. I hoped a hint of the truth would be enough to set your mind working, that maybe you would come to your own conclusions after that.”
“But all it did was shatter my hopes of freeing the Damned, Arthur.”
“I know. And I learned an important lesson that day—to trust David when he says he knows what’s best for you.”
“What do you mean?”
“He warned me that you were holding on to the hope that you could save the children to survive. I was wrong to let Jason tell you as much as he did, but I didn’t realise that until it was too late.”
I twiddled my thumbs, watching one go around the other for a second. “You knew Lilith when she was alive, right?”
“I did.”
“Then, surely you must know more about this contract and the promised child than you’re letting on.”
“I know some things, but not from living in that time. I was not around for the death of Lilith, or the events that led to it. But with decades of research, I’ve collected some facts about it and made my own conclusions.”
“Then . . . do you know what Drake wants with my child?”
“No. But I have a theory.”
“I’m listening,” I said, my voice peaking with interest.
“Lilith killed Anandene, and eventually promised her own child to Drake as a means to end the suffering he caused in return. But why does he want her child as repayment for what she did to his wife?”
I shrugged. “Seems like an odd exchange.”
“Right. Unless he planned to use the powerful blood of his immortal sister to restore the untethered soul of his beloved.”
My face went numb. “Restore?”
“I told you once that immortal souls are the one’s that reincarnate?”
“Yes, unless the connection was severed.”
“Right. Well, Anandene’s body was killed, not necessarily her soul.”
“So . . .how . . . I mean—” I thought about all that. “He wants to . . . what? Reincarnate Anandene?”
“Or insert her soul into your newborn child.”
My mouth dropped.
“It would explain the queer requirements of conception,” he added. “The fact that it had to be born from the purest blood of a nobleman’s son. And it explains why Drake has kept Safia, a known Vampirian enemy, around all these years.”
“What would a witch have to do with a baby and a soul insertion?”
“He needs her to complete the ritual.”
“Ritual?” That sounded so much scarier than using the words soul insertion, conjuring up images of lightning and stone tables and long cloaks. “Is . . . is this kind of thing possible?”
Arthur nodded. “Drake performed this ritual once before. But it failed.”
“Well, who was it? What happened?”
“I know only a few details, but it has been whispered that Drake attempted it on his mother’s soul.”
“So . . . what happened to her then?”
“I do not know, princess.” He folded his fingers together on the table. “I do know that a certain kind of magic runs in his veins, in any born immortal’s veins, but he would not have the power to perform such a spell. He needs a witch—needs Safia, and I fear that, once he’s done with her, he plans to dispose of her.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I said, then rolled my wrist out. “I mean, aside from the obvious—her being dead.”
“Safia will not go easily. She would be only too aware what Drake plans for her, and she will be taking steps to prevent this.”“Like what?”
Arthur sat back, resting his knuckles by his lips, studying me as if considering how much to disclose. “She may be looking for an immortal vessel of her own, possibly the one Drake plans to take from you.”
I touched my belly. “So, she’s going to insert herself into my baby?”
Arthur nodded once, his eyes lost in thought. “After all my research and contemplation, this is my latest conclusion.” He reached across the table for my hand; I placed it in his. “Of course, I could be very, very wrong.”
I squeezed his hand and sat back. “It sounds pretty scary. But also very plausible. What did David say?”
“He said it was of no consequence—said that Drake would be dead before it was a problem.”
“But even if we kill Drake, what about Safia?”
Arthur laughed. “If he’s not around to kill her, she won’t need a new body.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “So, if we kill Drake, does that void the contract?”
“Yes. If you kill him with the dagger.”
“Why? Why not just kill him with venom?”
“Because, my dear, think back. Try to remember what I told you.”
He gave me a second to think about it.
“That the dagger severs the connection of the immortalised soul from this world,” he said. “If you simply kill Drake, his soul will reincarnate, or could possibly be transferred into another immortal body later, and the contract will be reinstated.”
“So the contract is bound to his soul?”
“And to Lilith’s.”
I exhaled, my shoulders sinking. “Falling on her descendants until it’s fulfilled.”
“Yes.”
“Damn.” I rested my head in my palms. “I was really hoping to find a way around using that dagger.”
“As was David, my dear. He and I have exhausted all these options.”
“Why didn’t he tell me about the whole soul insertion ritual?”
“Because it is only a theory at this point, and David does act on a whim. I came up with this theory, but I—” He laughed, jerking his head toward the fireplace and the stack of books beside it. “I may have spent too long poring over fantasy.”
I slowly looked back from the books. “So, what do we do?”
“Like I said: focus on what we know, protect your unborn child and, rather than dig through the depths of Drake's lies and plans, kill him.”
“And kill David in the process.” My sharp words travelled across the oak top of Arthur’s table and hit him right in the heart, making his body shudder.
“I lost him once.” He looked down. “And I swore I would not lose him again. But it seems we are left with little choice.”
And that left only one thing to gain in David’s Inventory of Death. “So you’ll give him the right dagger?”
“You have my word.”
I nodded once and, feeling the rise of emotions I just wanted to control, placed both hands on the tabletop, stood slowly, and walked away.
“Amara?”
I stopped, holding the door ajar.
“I’m sorry.”
“I know,” I said, and as the door closed behind me, the tears I could hold no longer streamed down my face. I felt like a leaf in a pond, held down by a stick—too tired to come back up, too alive to just sink down and give up.
“Ara.” Blade left his guard post and scooped me up in a warm embrace. “Don’t cry, little queen. Please, don’t cry.”
“I can’t lose him, Blade. I can’t do this,” I sobbed into his shirt, my arms and hands shaking, so tight with grief my skin was red. “I’m not strong enough.”
“You are, don’t you know?” He placed a hand over the side of my face, cupping my ear firmly. “You’re stronger than anyone gives you credit for.”
“But I don’t want to be, Blade. Maybe if I wasn’t—maybe if David knew how bad this would hurt me, how much it would kill me, he wouldn’t go. He wouldn’t—”
“He has no choice.”
“I know.” I sunk down, tearing away from Blade’s arms, and sat on the ground with my head in my hands. “I know. But I have no control. None. And I hate it!”
“Ara?” David’s smooth voice came past Blade’s shoulder; he squatted down in front of me and, as his eyes met mine, I saw them flicker—felt him reach into my mind and see everything that just happened.
He sat down beside me, the hall empty around us, free of guards, maids, friends, even Blade was gone. “I’m sorry, Ara.”
I hiccupped into my palms, rolling down to rest my head in David’s lap.
“Nothing’s ever going to make this okay, is it?” he said, his hand hovering above my hair as if he didn’t want to break me down further by touching me.
The only answer I could give was a shake of my head, keeping my face hidden. And we sat there alone, our backs against Arthur’s door, watching the sun turn the walls orange then black as the night consumed us.
Living things watched me pass—the all-seeing eyes of nature following me as I ran fast through the Enchanted Forest. My feet barely touched the floor, the speed of this immortal body taking me from the tree line outside the Garden of Lilith to the endless valley of trees beyond the Stone.
I stopped on the face of a cliff, my palm against a trunk, folding over to catch my breath. The life of Nature ran violently through my veins, charging them with energy, while the exertion of my run simultaneously drained me. This body was an engine that could not be idle—could not run far enough away from the problems to fall down and care only about the physical pain. I couldn’t walk through the fields or the trees without the Spirits of Nature making my heart ache, magnifying every emotion. Nothing would make this better. It was like dreaming while awake, and no matter how hard I pinched myself, I just couldn’t get back to the world where none of this was happening.