Blakeshire (Insight #9)(98)

Zander elbowed me. “South. Large one.”

“You know about this? Is he really even mad at me?” I asked in a hushed whispered as I glanced at the other guards.

“You are testing him, sovereign. That is a good thing.”

“I’m not immortal.”

“Not yet,” Zander said quietly. “Pay attention,” he said with a nod to Draven, who was still going over Aden’s perception with me.

Draven was telling me that I had to go into that chamber to find what I needed, but that was not helping me at all. Even if there happened to be another explosion right when I was going through said test, that chamber was hundreds of feet below the surface in a massive oval room. Even if the water could fill it, I could not swim in that. No way. No how.

I swallowed nervously as I moved my stare forward. There had to be some kind of loophole here, some kind of way out of this. Anxiety was fluttering in my gut, but I demanded that it back off. I was too focused to be afraid right now.

I was right: by the time we reached the other side of the palace, they only had time for me to change out of my jeans and into a white gown. Its straps were thin and squared off at the chest. The top of it was heavy, almost like it was made of armor. The silk bottom flowed out ever so subtly below that point. I had no idea how I would swim in it—that is, if there was even water. There was a fifty-fifty chance that I was diving into a stone floor.

Draven and I were never alone, so he could not use his words to ensure that I understood what I was supposed to do or even offer reassurance that I could do what I had to do.

As soon as I was dressed, I was led up another set of stairs. At the top of them, I could see the sky. I was being led onto one of the lower rooftops.

The sky was dark and gloomy, but the wind was utterly still. You could still smell the burning city in the not-so-far-off distance.

Drake was there. At his side, the fake ink Alamos, Xavier, and a host of other traitors that smelled so bad that I wished there was a wind.

Britain’s arms were bound. He was standing one step below a massive opening in the roof, and there was nothing less than sadness in his eyes as he peered at me.

This was not a private execution by any means. I could see the courtyard and the city around the palace. Every soul was outside, silently staring up at the roof. Grief was the only emotion coming from them.

Drake’s eyes only met mine briefly, and when they did he opened his mind. I saw him tell me ‘South.’ I watched the very limited time between the last explosions. Nothing that was helping me.

With a placid, calm expression, Zander took my arm from Draven and led me to the opening that Drake and the others were standing around. There were three small steps that led up to the ledge of the opening.

The inked Alamos walked over to me and ripped my locket from my neck. “Immortals do not need tools to prove their worth.”

Drake made no move to take it back for me. He was stone cold as he stood next to this man that would surely cross him soon enough.

The men on the roof began a low chant, one that sounded all too familiar.

Xavier stepped forward and reached a golden chalice toward me.

“Stop,” Drake said through gritted teeth.

I couldn’t help the relieved sigh that left my lips. He was going to save me from this suicide mission.

“She must drink,” Xavier protested.

“The blood of a king. I gave you no vein,” Drake said coolly to him as his eyes moved to the opening I had entered from.

There, Drake’s mother, Beth, emerged looking like nothing less than pure royalty. Her dark eyes never bothered to connect with me.

No one in this world knew of Beth’s secret family. I suppose this family was accustomed to playing a part for the world.

Beth was holding a golden chalice in her hands, one that was far more decadent than the one Xavier was insisting that I drink from.

“You expect me to believe that is your blood?” Xavier said as Beth approached us.

“Witnesses,” Drake said flatly.

At that moment, half of the men behind Xavier stepped forward.

“You are welcome to have a drink if you still doubt your king’s word,” Drake said to Xavier.

No response was given beyond a nod.

The chants grew louder as Beth faced me and reached her chalice to my lips.

I didn’t care how much I may have loved that boy—I was not about to drink blood. I was going to have to figure out how to fake this.

The chalice was deep; the blood was shallow. As it moved closer to my lips, I didn’t smell the familiar odor of blood; I smelled wine. There was an engraving on the inside of the cup that read: ‘beneath the ice south.’

As I heard the gasp from the crowd around me, I swallowed the wine that everyone else assumed was blood.

Beth gently took the chalice from my lips, bowed gracefully, then left the platform of the roof.

I edged up the stairs, daring to glance at Drake.

He may have had every reason to believe that this was a show, he even may have already planned my perfect escape from this, but as far as I knew this would be the last time I saw him.

As I stared into those entrancing eyes, I reflected every moment that he had completed me, I let him see himself through my eyes. I didn’t care that no response came—I had said my peace.

Zander was the one who had bound my hands behind my back. On purpose, he had tucked part of the cloth between my fingers so that when I released that material the ties would be loose enough for me to get free, though I was sure my flailing arms would have done the trick anyway.