Moonlight Prince (Vampire Girl #4)(41)

We are not the only ones who train. Fen and Dean spar in the center square, dueling each other for hours on end. Their bodies slick with sweat. Their muscles glistening in the moonlight. Dean struggles to fight his brother at first. But in time, he begins to notice Fen's strategies, his feints and attacks, and he begins to hold his own. The two almost seem a perfect match, until Fen ups the challenge, increasing his speed and disarming Dean quickly. "Better," says the Prince of War. "But not better enough. Again!"

Even Marasphyr takes part in training. She does it privately, away from the rest of us, but sometimes I catch sight of her behind a building, summoning black fire in her hands, conjuring portals. Once, she notices me, and stops immediately. "Don't you have things to practice?" she snaps.

I leave her alone and resume my studies. Tavian proves a much faster teacher than Varis. One time, I ask him why that might be. "You must understand," says Tavian, drawing glyphs in the sand between us with a stick. "The Druids were never meant to train the Midnight Star. It was a skill passed down from one High Fae to another. The Midnight Star would, in his or her lifetime, train all the children in the family, preparing them for the day one of them might be chosen. If the Midnight Star died early, their siblings also possessed the knowledge, and would take on training the younglings." He waves his hands in the air, having me mimic his movements. "So you see, when the High Fae were all slaughtered, their art was lost with them. Knowledge of the old magic faded."

I raise an eyebrow. "But, what about you? How do you know this power then?"

He smiles. "I knew a Midnight Star once. She was… very dear to me. You have her eyes, you know."

My green eyes. A reminder of a family I never knew. "What happened to her?"

Tavian looks down in the sand, seeing something I do not. "She died. In a great battle, between Fae and vampire."

"You mean…" My eyes go wide. "You mean you knew my aunt?"

"Yes." He beams at me fondly. "We grew up together. Playing in the ancient groves. Pulling tricks on the Druids. She was a fierce person, your aunt, full of courage and passion. She was like you, really."

"What was her name?"

He breathes deeply, like savoring a good taste. "Saphira."

"Saphira," I repeat, committing the name to memory.

"She had deep blue hair, and a smile that would make anyone blush. I… I never told her how I felt. And then, the war began, and it was too late."

I touch his hand. "How did she die?"

"Like a hero," he says. "In a great battle. The entire forces of the Fae met the entire forces of the vampire. Lucian and Saphira dueled for days. In the end, she won, and then, she did something I could never do. She showed mercy. Mercy to the vampire king. A chance to surrender. He took advantage of the moment, and cut her hand with his sword. One cut is all it took. There was some kind of poison on the blade, and Saphira fell, her body shaking with spams, her face turning blue. I did not reach her in time. But I held her corpse in my arms, weeping as the Fae lost their freedom."

He rips up a blade of grass, twirling it in his fingers. "I found love again, as you know. Many years later. I had a family. But in my dreams, I still danced with Saphira. I still held her in my arms. I never forgot. And so one day, when the opportunity arose, I joined a rebellion. There had been other uprisings before, but this one, this one had a true leader. A man who could truly bring peace between vampire and Fae. The Moonlight Prince they called him. He led with courage. Dispensed justice with grace. He was… too angry, at the time, but I did not realize. I too was full of rage. Together, we concocted a plan. A way to defeat the vampires once and for all. And so we summoned the Darkness. And what a dreadful price we paid."

I scoot closer. "What happened to the prince?"

Tavian chuckles, but there's no warmth to it. "Haven't you heard? He disappeared."

Something tickles at my mind. "You said there were three, before. Three cursed. Who was the third?"

He pauses for a long while. "The third—"

"It's ready," says Kayla, walking over, beaming with pride, Riku chirping on her shoulder. "Come. See for yourself."

Tavian sighs, and whispers in my ear. "The third is dead." Then he says no more.

Together, we follow Kayla to the forge.

Once there, she hands me the most beautiful sword I have ever seen. It glows a pale blue and feels cold to the touch. Ancient Fae glyphs are etched into the steel and drawn onto the leather hilt. I wave the blade through the air, noting its light weight, its perfect balance. This is a sword kingdoms would wage war over. A sword people would die for.

"What will you call it?" asks Kayla.

I study the moonlight blade, remembering the guardian who gave his life. "I'll call it Lux. It means light in Latin. And with this light, I will defeat the Darkness." I gaze into my blade for a long moment, seeing the heart of the guardian who sacrificed for it. "It is time. Time to end this war."

Tavian shakes his head. "Your training is not yet complete."

"But you said…" a memory tickles my mind, growing fuzzier by the moment… "you said…"

"I said we have time here. Much time to prepare. We must not rush to battle."