Page 53 of A Kingdom of Death & Darkness
To their credit, Seven and Rorrick do as I say, and their backs are immediately pressed against mine. I expected some sort of protest. After all, we are mortal enemies. But it seems they’ve accepted me just as much as I’ve accepted that they’re a part of loving Crymson. She’s ours. All of ours. And we’re going to save her.
In my chest, I can feel Carver’s panic threatening to weaken my knees. I can feel him rushing through the trees. Through our bond, I send the image of the first Dead that comes looming from the smoke and feel his direction immediately shift. I don’t know how far away he is, don’t know how long it’ll be until he and the Blood Prince return. All I can focus on is the husk of a woman who peers into my eyes.
“Thorn King,” she hisses, her red eyes crackling with anger. “Useless Thorn King.”
She still wears the dress she’d been tossed away in, the uniform of the Promised. It was once satin of the best quality, but it’s ripped and dirty now. Her neck is raw and mottled, theonce deadly wound not a permanent fixture. Old dried blood browns the front of her shift where she bled out before being tossed away. She was likely beautiful once, but the elements haven’t been kind to her through the years, it seems. Her flesh is hanging from her in strange places, ripped and shredded, sores pockmarking what little is left. Much isn’t left of her hair. What remains are strings of dark blood-crusted chunks that frame her face.
“I am not your enemy, Promised,” I say, but still, I draw my sword. My wings are the most vulnerable to these creatures. I could rise into the air to protect them, but then I’d be leaving the two vampires to fend for themselves. Crymson would never forgive me.
After everything we’ve shared, I don’t think I could forgive me either.
“You did not help,” she rasps, her voice strained and whistling as if too much air rushes through the wound in her neck. “Therefore, youareour enemy.”
From the ash, more and more Dead appear, all women, all mangled beyond repair, all wearing variations of the Promised uniform. They’re the Blood Kingdom’s curse. These are all the women Boris has murdered, drained, tossed away like garbage. Women who are no different from my own mother. Killing them gives me no pleasure, but if we don’t act, then they’ll rip us to shreds.
In their eyes, we are all enemies, because we still breathe.
“Don’t let them bite you,” I tell Rorrick. “Above all else.”
I hear the sound of a sword being unsheathed and risk a glance over my shoulder at the vampires. It’s clear they’ve raided my weapons room. Rorrick holds a blade better fit for a medieval knight. It suits him as he palms the pommel and braces himself. Seven pulls his own sword, more of a polished, artfully craftedweapon. They stand at the ready as I pull my own sword, my father’s, and prepare for a battle I have no desire to fight.
But for Crymson, I’ll fight anything that stands in the way between us.
THIRTY-THREE
Christian
I can feel her,just barely, but she’s muted. It’s a strange feeling, like she’s deep underwater and I can’t quite see her through the muddy depths. Carver should feel her fully since they’re fated, but apparently he feels nothing, and his panic is fueling my own.
“Anything?” I ask, panting with my anxiety. I’ve never been afraid like I am in this moment. In all my years, I’ve never feared for the life of someone. But now... I’m afraid.
“Nothing,” Carver hisses, his eyes bright as he searches, his wings tucked in tightly to his back. “Something’s happened. I feel nothing.”
“Fuck!” I snarl, rushing toward the tiniest thread of awareness I can feel. “I can’t...”
The feeling shifts then. At first, it’s as muted and dull as before, and then it explodes with so much awareness, I stumble to a stop and have to brace myself against the nearest tree.
“What?” I gasp, clutching at my chest as I feel her settle there. I can feel her, stronger than before, stronger than she’s ever been.
My heart physically pulses for her. Raw agony stabs through me.
Carver drops to his knees, his hand clutching onto his chest as he cries out in pain. They’re fated. He’s likely feeling his own awareness and hers at the same time.
And then she starts to move. I feel her closing in on me. Wherever she is, she’s changing direction and now heading back our way, toward where Thorn and the others fight.
“Come on,” I growl through my teeth, my hand still clutched against my chest as if it’ll keep all the blood inside me.
Carver stumbles to his feet, his ragged breathing worrisome, but together, we both begin to run. She’s moving fast, so fast, we almost can’t keep up. It’s strange. She’s human, achingly so, though there’s power in her veins that we still haven’t fully realized. Now, something else feels like it has taken control. She no longer feels human.
She feels like everything.
We shoot through the tree line and stumble to a stop as we take in the fight before us. Thorn, Rorrick, and Seven all stand back-to-back, their swords out as they face off against the Dead. Dead Promised screech and swipe out at them with ragged claws and sharp teeth, but strangely, they don’t attack.
“Where is she?” I growl, searching frantically. But I don’t see her.
Fuck! I don’t see her!
THIRTY-FOUR
