Page 84 of Promised in Blood

My frustration grows. “You flatter me, witch.”

I skirt the edges of the mausoleum, focusing in on her scent and picking out the unique notes of the rare orchid which only grows on the foothills of the mountain where the Order makes their home. “I had thought this portal decommissioned a long time ago.”

“I resurrected it but a few years ago. It seemed pertinent to have a quick route to Havenwood.” Her breathing is quiet but easily detectable. Her heartbeat is steady, but her pulse thrums against the pressure points on her body.

I lick my lips, tasting the air as I edge closer, staying between her and the portal. Waiting. Patience.

My hand snaps out and wraps around her throat. “Nazeel Danraath. What brings you to Havenwood, so far from home?”

I tilt her head up so her bright-green eyes sparkle in the moonlight. “You already know, Alexandros Drakos. That is why you are here, is it not?”

I squeeze her throat a little tighter, but she offers no reaction. She is too powerful to show weakness. “You resurrected the portal to have direct access to Ophelia?”

She nods.

A growl rumbles from deep inside my chest. “Why? What is your interest in the girl?”

“If you let go of my throat, it would be much easier to tell you.”

I stare into her eyes and look for signs that she is not to be trusted, but I find none. Nazeel is cunning and underhanded, but she has never given me reason to doubt her. She was an ally during the elementai genocide, even saving Giorgios’s life despite not being permitted to interfere. For that, my family will always owe her a debt. I release her from my grip, and she steps back, giving her neck a soothing massage.

“I first came across the child when she was a babe.”

I recall what Ophelia told me earlier. “It was you who found her?”

She tips her head and presses her lips together. “Not exactly. Kameen was summoned by her parents.”

Kameen Nassari does not allow himself to be summoned, unless… Another piece of the puzzle falls into place. “His brother, Jadon. He was Ophelia’s father?”

She nods. “Yes.”

Jadon and Kameen, the only sons of Artemis—one of the heirs of the most powerful demon who ever lived. “So she is a descendant of Azezal?”

“Yes. And Kameen’s niece.”

I scrutinize her familiar features as though they will offer more than what she has already disclosed despite knowing the futility of such an endeavor. Even with my newly enhanced powers, it would take me a century to break down Nazeel’s walls. “Then it was you who bound her powers.” It is not a question. She is one of the few who still lives with such knowledge and strength.

But there is no mistaking the hurt that flashes in her eyes. Binding a child’s powers is barbaric and cruel, and Nazeel comes from a long line of witches who use their magic to heal. I have no doubt that it was not a painless undertaking for her. “I did. It was necessary for her protection. There were others who surely knew she was a powerful being. Others who would have stoppedat nothing to get to her. The same ones who sent the creatures that killed her parents would have come for her.”

“Who was Ophelia’s mother?”

She brushes a speck of dirt from her cloak. “A common human. Nothing special.” There is no disdain in her voice, simply the truth of her observation. However, it grates on me that she would call the mother of the other half of my soulnothing special. I suppress a growl and allow her to continue. “At least half a dozen vampires lay burned to ash in the surrounding wood. The baby was removed from her mother’s womb with fire after the human took her final breath. Ophelia survived without even the slightest mark on her skin.”

A thick coil of trepidation snakes its way through my gut. I refuse to believe in prophecies, yet the words are a chant in my head all the same, like a disembodied voice from a long-suppressed memory.

“Many souls were lost that night, Alexandros. Her mother perished before Kameen set fire to her corpse, and her father bled out from a wound poisoned with painite.” I take a step backward, no longer wishing to hear what I know is coming next. Her hand grips my forearm with astonishing strength, and I am unable to pull away.

The events of that night unfold before me like I am standing there witnessing it firsthand. An infant Ophelia is lifted from a burned-out corpse, her tiny body covered in a film of blood and ash, her piercing cries of declaration ringing through the night air. “She was borne of fire and blood, Alexandros.”

I grit my teeth and shake my head. “Do not quote prophecy to me, Nazeel.”

Her frustration grows palpable. “I do not have much time.” She glances at the portal entrance behind me. “Kameen will come searching for me.”

“All the more evidence that you should not be here, meddling in matters that do not concern you.”

Her emerald-green eyes narrow. “You only know part of the prophecy, Alexandros. If you knew the full verse?—”

I growl a warning. “Do not hold your knowledge over me like some kind of bait for me to snap at, witch. I do not believe in prophecies.”

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