Moonlight Prince (Vampire Girl #4)(25)

He nods. "They did not know how to control it. And so it consumed them."

"What of the High Fae? Why didn't they stop it? Prevent the rituals?" But maybe they tried. Maybe they tried like Varis tried to prevent my own ritual, when the Darkness drove Yami mad.

"The High Fae were more advisors than real rulers," says Lucian, waving his hand dismissively. "No one listened to them the way they did the Primal One. It was only after the collapse, after the Ancient Fae died off, that the High Fae tightened their rule to prevent such disasters in the future."

Suddenly, a deep chill seeps into my bones. And despite my magic, I tremble.

"Ah," says Lucian. "We are here."

I follow his gaze to the end of the ruin. There, carved into the mountain, stands a giant grey door, a tree engraved on its center. The wind moves oddly here. Pulsing, beating like a heart. And on the cold air, carries a whisper. A soft caress. It draws me. Pulls me closer to the door. Without thinking, I find myself walking forward. Closer. Closer. With each step, my limbs grow colder, my skin turns paler. Frost builds on my eyelashes, on my hair. But I do not care. I not feel the chill. Not anymore. Instead I feel warmth. The warmth of a soft embrace. When I lay my hand upon the door, a flash of energy courses through my body, like a lover's touch. And when I lay my ear against the stone. I hear it. I feel it.

The Darkness.





Chapter 8


MARASPHYR


Fenris Vane


"There is too much temptation to touch her, to hold her, and having her so close but not quite close enough is a sweet kind of torture I am unused to."

—Fenris Vane



We ride for Grey Mountain. Deep into the realm of Envy. Deep into Levi's territory. Even with him gone, we must be careful. If the Princes of War and Lust were spotted traveling to the mountains, word could reach Metsi, giving her time to escape and take Arianna with her. This I will not allow.

So we wear illusions and avoid conversation that would reveal too much. Even Baron is under illusion to look like a dog rather than a wolf. I thought Dean would find it a nuisance, but there is a fire in his eyes, a focus. All thoughts but those of Arianna seem burned from his mind. "When we arrive," he says, as we travel on an empty road, "leave the Druid to me. Focus on Arianna. Get her out."

I guide my steed to stay on the dirt path between fields of snow. Dean rides to my right, Tavian to my left and Baron runs ahead, sniffing out our path. We are a meager group, but it is best to travel with fewer people. Less noticeable. Asher needed to stay to manage the realms. Varis chose to stay and keep an eye on the increasingly worrisome Asher. And Tavian… he surprised me by insisting on coming. "If I do not help you rescue Arianna, Kayla would never forgive me," he'd said. I think also he needed a task with purpose to take his mind off Kayla's diminishing health.

We rode hard the first day, but our horses needed rest, so now we travel at a slow canter. Until we can make haste once more. "We will need our combined strength to defeat Metsi," I say. "We must—"

"I don't care about beating her," says Dean, glaring at the horizon, at the setting orange sun. "I will distract her. You will save Arianna. If I fall in battle, so be it."

I have never seen such fervor from my brother. He seems consumed. But then again, so am I. My thoughts are of Arianna and nothing else. "Very well. We will do as you say."

Tavian nods in agreement.

We speak little then. Until we near the Crimson Castle.

It stands in the distance upon a hill of snow. Red clay leaks from beneath the earth, staining the white land red. The castle itself is built from pale blue stone, its spires jagged and sharp, its ceilings arched. Stone statues loom above the entry way, cruel beasts stalking those below. There is a darkness to the castle. A feeling that makes your hair stand on end. Arianna would call it gothic, I think. But there is something more, hidden behind the layers of twisted beauty. A cruelty. A meanness you can taste.

I turn away, not wishing to look upon the monstrosity. Around us, buildings sprout out from the snow, wooden shacks belonging to the poor living on the outskirts of the city. Some have roofs already caved in. Others are missing doors.

Tavian watches the Fae who we pass by, the slaves wearing nothing but tattered robes that barely cover their bodies, though the day is cold and harsh. They tremble, warming their hands with their breath, as they rush from one duty to another. An older Fae, his hair long and grey, collapses in the snow. None seem to notice. None stop to help.

I jump down from my horse and rush to his side. I pull off my thick fur cloak and wrap it around the man. I bring a flask of water to his lips. Baron whimpers and leans into the man to offer him warmth.

His words are barely a whisper. "Thank you, my prince."

Prince? But the illusion… "I… do not know what you mean."

He smiles. "Your secrets are safe with me. I have heard of tales of the Prince of War. What other vampire would treat a Fae with such kindness?" His eyes flicker to Baron. "And travel with such a loyal companion."

I grin, despite myself. I do not know what the Fae expect of me, or if they hope for things I will never bring, but right now, I grin. I grin for the old man before me. That is a kindness I can do.

Tavian leans down beside me. He offers a portion of his food to the old man, and the man eats, slowly, but steadily.