Page 42 of King of the Damned
She hits me as Dravon did when I didn’t give him the answer he wanted. I taste blood on my tongue and spit it to the side.
“Adelasia,” I whisper, and then she sets me on my feet.
“Pleasure,” Amatisi retorts with venom. “Well, sweet Adelasia, I have a story to tell you about my sister Yekaterina.”
I lift my chin slightly. “Kaius already told me about her–about what she did to him and his mother before he killed her. About how you cursed him for it.”
“Ah! Well then, I suppose it should come as no surprise to you that we’re here, then. How brave you are for facing the prospect of your death by warming your murderer’s bed.”
I give Kaius a hateful glare. “I would never warm his bed,” I say to her, while keeping my eyes on him. He can’t answer me, gagged by some dark magic. His eyes fill with despair, though I can’t help but see it as some insincere trick.
Amatisi begins laughing. A tear slips down my cheek as I look at the man I’ve learned to trust over these weeks. A man that I allowed myself to be vulnerable with. A man I’ve kissed and come to care about.
Kaius watches the tear fall down my cheek. The furrow of his brow reveals the same devastation I feel.
My hand trembles as I reach around the back of my neck, my fingers trailing the top of the raised scar that ends there.
All this time, I really have been a prisoner, and I’ve finally come to the day of my execution.
With the weight of the truth on my shoulders, Amatisi approaches me from behind and shoves me to the ground. My knees hit the floor with a loud crack, and Amatisi uses her sharp fingernails to rip the back of my dress to shreds, revealing the damning scar along my spine. I sob as I hold one arm up around my chest to keep myself modest and place the other against the cold floor to hold myself upright. Amatisi runs her finger along my spine, and bile rises in my throat at the sensation.
A teardrop lands on my forearm, and I watch it trail down to the floor, leaving a wet streak on its way down, glimmering slightly against the magic marking on my wrist.
I notice it seems to be…alive. It moves as if more magic is flowing through my veins than ever before.
With the utmost subtlety, I look at Kaius from under my wet lashes. I meet his gaze, then look to my wrist before looking back to him. He nods back with a simple tilt of his head.
He’s given me his magic. He’s trying to help me.
Still looking at the ground, I ask aloud, “Does he have to be the one to do it?”
Amatisi lifts my chin, using her thumb to wipe away one of my tears. “My dear sister has been lost for a thousand years. How poetic it is that you have her beauty.”
Amatisi opens her palm, and a dagger conjures into her hand. I recognize it well. Silver blade, ruby pommel. It’s the dagger Kaius carries with him everywhere.
She runs the blade roughly along my cheek. It stings, but when I touch my skin, expecting the warmth of my blood, there’s nothing. My eyes meet her veiled head, confusion etched in the furrow of my brow.
“The blade remains blunt until wielded by the cursebreaker.”
“Enough of these theatrics!” Dravon shouts, grabbing me by the hair and pulling me to my feet. The tip of his blade digs into the side of my throat.
Kaius remains bound and helpless, but Amatisi holds up her arms in surrender at the threat on my life.
I may be just a human, but her sister’s soul resides within mine, and that makes me valuable.
Losing mescaresher.
I whimper softly when Dravon increases the pressure of his blade on my neck. I feel blood begin to trickle down my throat and soak into the collar of my shredded dress.
“You said I would rule over the vampires!”
“When Kaius ismortalagain, you fool! Release the sacrifice, or witness my fury.”
Dravon growls against my ear. “Give me your word.”
Amatisi immediately relaxes her shoulders and holds out her hand to him. An offer to make a vow. Dravon pushes me away. I crawl to Kaius, shielding myself behind his frame. Whatever magic was holding him hostage dissipates, and he forces me to stand with him, still using his body to protect me as he digs the stake out of his stomach.
I watch as Dravon takes Amatisi’s hand. The moment he does, the skin of his fingers turns a sickly gray color. It begins to trail up his arm, melting away his clothing.
