Chapter 72: Chapter 72
KILLIAN
My mother’s roots…
Most people assumed my mother was a vampire because she’d married my father and was, well, immortal. But immortality didn’t strictly belong to vampires.
My mother had been a witch, a very powerful one at that, and her decision not to reject my father—despite vampires and witches having declared open war on each other—had bred resentment within her mother's coven. Eventually, they turned away from her, and her love for my father had led her to make herself immortal.
When the Rip occurred—when every witch in existence had restrictions imposed on their powers—it didn't place restrictions on her, but it weakened her. After all, she'd lived for so long that her body was sustained as much by magic as by blood.
As the last bloodline witch, covens had come to her for help to undo the Rip, but there was nothing she could do. They ended up interpreting that as: "My husband would rather you all suffer, and I agree with him."
Oh, well.
“There are over three hundred more invitations that have the same spell on them,” I stated—I didn't know exactly how many packs my father had invited to the diplomatic gathering, but there were roughly a thousand in existence, and not all of them had been invited. A small frown tugged at the witch’s lips, probably because I’d ignored her question. “I could only bring this, so I need something that can help me break the spell on those too. And if you can break them remotely, that wouldn’t be awful.”
“Hmm…” She returned her attention to the invitation and dropped it on the table. As she pulled her hand back, her sleeve rode up, revealing a bandage wrapped around her wrist—perhaps to cover up an injury, perhaps to hide her coven mark. “Blood.”
My brows raised. “I’m sorry?”
“My payment.” She picked up Aurel’s empty glass and set it in the middle of the table. “Blood.”
Alarm bells went off in my head for a moment while Fabien tensed beside me. Blood was life, but it was also death, and witches could use it for anything across that spectrum. They were far better known for the latter.
I wasn't worried about death—she couldn't force that on me by using my blood. It was everything else she could do with it that concerned me. What if she shared it with witches who already had reason to hate my family? Forever was far too long to endure whatever vengeful witches could do to me with it.
“What do you need it for?” I asked, tightening my hands into fists, and she shrugged half-heartedly.
“Just a little experiment. Nothing harmless really.”
“Do you mean nothing harmful?” Aurel cut in, his brows furrowed, and she blinked before her face flushed.
“Shut up, Aurel.”
Aurel laughed. “...Wait, how do you know my name?”
Witches lied a lot, but their lies were usually obvious. This particular one didn't seem to be lying, and I wasn’t willing to bet on it—in fact, I suspected I’d seriously regret giving her my blood—but I’d promised Lenore that I’d stop the tournament. And I intended to keep that promise.
“How do you want to do this?” I asked, gesturing at the invitation while discomfort breathed down my neck.
She smiled. “It’s already broken.”
I furrowed my brows before grabbing the invitation, checking it for any lingering traces of magic, but there was nothing left. When I slid my gaze back to her face, her smile widened and my frown deepened. Why do I feel like I just walked into a trap?
“And the other invitations?”
“Broken too,” she answered, taking a sip of her drink, and I gritted my teeth. There was no way for me to confirm that seeing as the only invitation I had in my possession was Lenore’s.
“I don’t like being cheated.” If I got back to Eyrosa to find out she lied—
“I don’t suspect anyone does.”
“Aren’t you Turi?” Fabien asked, staring at her with a measured expression, and I caught the underlying question. The spell on the invitations wasn’t complex, but for a Turi, any use of magic came with repercussions. She didn’t seem to care about that.
“Are my eyes closed?” she replied, deflecting. Dyanis always moved around with their eyes closed—most even wore bands over them.
I actually didn't care whether she cared about the repercussions—she’d be the only one bearing them after all. ”Why did you do it before receiving your payment?”
Her smile reappeared and she tapped the rim of the glass in the middle of the table. “I trust you lovely people not to cheat me.”
Staring at the glass, I dragged my teeth over my bottom lip and ignoring the voice in my head telling me I’d most likely regret this, I brought my palm to my mouth. Fabien clamped his hand on mine before I could sink my fangs into it and I glanced at him, thinking he wanted to talk me out of it, but found him biting down on his palm instead. Before he could move his hand over the glass though, I grabbed it.
“No,” I stated firmly, frowning at him.
Absolutely not. His loyalty to me became well known when he chose to leave Eyrosa with me after my exile, so no. I didn’t want him to suffer because of me. Also, it wasn’t just the blood owner who was at risk when they gave up blood to a witch—whoever they were related to were too. I didn’t give a fuck about my father and Sennet, but I very much gave a fuck about Fabien’s parents and Calley.
“You’re not giving your blood.”
“You’re not giving yours either.”
“I wish I had a brother,” the witch sighed, sounding almost wistful, but we kept our attention fixed on each other. He looked like he wanted to win a staring contest.
The witch abruptly got to her feet, drawing our attention, and I frowned as she walked away from the booth. What the—”Don’t you want your payment?” I called out but she didn’t look back.
Fabien and I glanced at each other, then at Aurel, and I paused when I saw blood on the edge of his mouth before his tongue darted out to wipe it.
The glass on the table was gone and his hands were conveniently out of sight.
I immediately jerked my head towards the witch but she was gone and I shot to my feet, scanning the faces of the people moving towards the entrance. She wasn’t there either. “Have you lost your mind?!”
He raised his brows. “You mean thank you? I have no enemies. Unlike you two. No family to drag into this either, so…” he trailed off, shrugging, and I clenched my jaw. He was right, but that didn’t make it right, and it made me feel like a piece of shit.
“...I owe you,” I muttered, sitting back down, and he shot me an incredulous look.
“Obviously.”
I still felt awful and when I didn’t say anything else, he sighed.
“Don’t get all sappy on me. Also, Fabien was about to tell you about Sennet before she showed up,” he said, and I frowned.
Sennet? I turned toward Fabien, waiting for him to explain, and he grimaced.
“…He was being forceful with Lenore after she left the audience room.”
Blood rushed to my ears, temporarily blocking out everything else. In my vision, the world trembled, but it wasn’t the world that was shaking, boiling, rising. It was me.
“Easy, Killian,” Aurel said in a rush, his gaze fixed on my hand, and I looked down to see bright, blue flames writhing around my right hand. Swallowing, I snuffed it out before it reached the table.
“How?” I asked Fabien, barely recognizing my own voice.
“She and her father left the audience room through the west door and I didn’t realize for some time because of the blockers.” He paused, staring at me like he expected me to lash out at him for losing her, but when I didn’t, he continued, “When I found her, he had her backed against the Almerry building with his arm around her. It wasn’t…” He scrunched his face up like he was trying to find the right word. “...proper… She said this wasn’t the first time.”
I know. I saw how he acted the first time he met her, and I also remembered my reaction to that action even though I didn’t know she was my mate then. I’d told him to keep his hands to himself.
Father must have told him I cared about Lenore, and he’d decided to do this to provoke me. Well, provoke me he had, but every action came with consequences.
“You should talk to her to know exactly what happened,” Fabien said and I hmmed, getting to my feet while grabbing the invitation on the table.
“Let’s head back.”