Page 11 of On Wings of Blood

There was no reply. The woman’s voice was gone.

If it had ever been anything except my imagination in the first place.

A chill went through me.

Perhaps that was it. Perhaps Iwasdead. Perhaps I was in some twisted afterlife. Insanity might have been part and parcel with death. Maybe I was going insane. If that was the case, I hoped the madness would descend quickly and that I’d soon have no thoughts left in my mind at all.

But in the meantime, I looked at the people standing and staring down at me from the platform. And I stared right back.

My eyes went from one to the other, keeping my lips pressed together. Did I look hostile? Threatening? I hoped so.

Because they certainly did.

The man seated on the black stone chair leaned forward slightly. His eyes were a deep, unsettling red and he held a staff topped with a gleaming, scarlet gem. I looked away from him quickly, unnerved by his expression. He eyed me with the same keen interest one might give to a horse or some other piece of livestock one contemplates purchasing.

Next my eyes fell on the man to his left. He was younger, clad in black leather armor accented in gold. His eyes weren’t gray like Blake’s though; they were a pale blue, but shaped the same. In fact, he resembled Blake in many ways, though his build was a little shorter and stockier.

I glanced at Blake, who still held me by the wrist, then back again. Yes, the two might have been cousins. Even brothers.

A movement caught my eye. A young woman had folded and unfolded her arms restlessly. She stood further down the row of nobles. She was lovely, with pink lips and shimmering pale blonde hair. Her gown was a cascade of sheer violet over black silk. A diadem of silver embedded with purple gems sat on her brow. She tapped her foot as if impatient or annoyed, yet when she caught me staring, she looked back at me. There was something in her gaze beyond mere curiosity or even hostility. I saw naked hate. And past that, perhaps something like fear.

There was more to all of this. More to these strange and foreign people in this strange and foreign land. I scanned the line of noble folk. A thread of commonality stretched between all of the figures on the dais, linking them together.

Their hair, I realized. If hair was what made me stand out, it was what united all of them.

From the man seated in the chair to the younger man beside him to the woman looking at me with such cold fury. While their skin tones were a range of shades, they were unified by the lightness of their hair. Hues ranging from silvery white to golden blonde to silvery gray. Not a glimpse of brown or black or even red amongst them.

I cast my gaze out over the crowd and it was the same. While there had been some chestnut, brown, and black colored hair amongst the soldiers who had escorted me, I saw no glimmer of any shade beyond snowy pale or faint gold in this hall.

I looked at the man on the black chair, his hair as white as freshly fallen snow, cut to shoulder-length, sleek and straight, framing a bearded face, hard and cold.

The younger man beside him had hair of ashy blond, cropped short in a military style that emphasized the strong, angular lines of his face.

I glanced at the man by my side, the man Lucius had named Blake Drakharrow. His hair hung around his face, nearly chin-length. The strands were very pale gold. Blond in some lights, almost white in others.

I stood out amongst these people like a flaming coal.

Just barely I resisted the impulse to touch a hand to my head self-consciously.

I glanced away, avoiding the feeling, and my eyes rested on a girl I had not noticed before.

A child.

No more than nine or ten, she sat on the edge of the platform. Her long blonde hair had been braided with red ribbons and a few rebellious strands had escaped to fall in a frame around her pale, porcelain face. Now she slouched forward, her chin resting heavily in her hands, propped up by slender arms. Looking bored and disinterested in the proceedings, she kicked her feet absently against the dais.

I nearly smiled, watching her. I wondered who she could be. Someone important enough to be included amongst the powerful people on the platform but not important enough to be made to stand beside them. Or perhaps they had given up trying to make her stand nicely. Children were children anywhere. Even among vampires.

The man seated on the black chair was rising.

He held his staff as a symbol of strength, not as a crutch like a truly elderly man might. I got the sense of an ancient power. He loomed over the whole assembly like a dark shadow and something about the way he looked down at me made me weak in the knees. Not in a good way.

Blake’s hand gripped my wrist more tightly. To hurt me or to steady me, I wasn’t sure which.

Either way it worked. I stood up a little straighter, lifted my chin a little higher.

“A rare find indeed,” the older man agreed, as he stepped to the edge of the platform. “You were right to bring her to us, Blake.” His eyes honed in on mine, glowing faintly. “What is your name, child? Where do you come from?”

I had the impression he was doing his best to speak kindly. Yet I knew beyond a doubt there was nothing trulykindabout this man.

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