“Well, you’ve only seen a very small corner of it. My kingdom is small in comparison to others as well,” I explain. “There’s so much to see.”
Verity fingers one of the gems. “I’d like to see this river someday.”
“Perhaps I can take you,” I say, hope swelling in my chest. This is what we need. We need more than my curse to build a relationship on. A thirst for adventure will do. I imagine Verity by my side as we take on the world and grin to myself. She’s the only one I would want beside me.
“If you have time,” she murmurs. “Being King has kept you busy.”
I press my lips together in a thin line. “I’m sorry, Verity.”
She falls silent and closes her eyes, as if she’s tired. I wait for her to speak, but her lips never part. I leave her and drop my head back against the seat. I will do anything in my power to bring back a smile to Verity’s face. I will chase her demons over the ends of the earth to bring her joy again. Something is eating at her, and I need to find out what.
Chapter 3
Cleo
The wind howls through the mountains like a banshee hailing death’s arrival. I smile as a pleasant chill trails down my spine. My red cloak snaps in the breeze, the hood flying off to expose my pale blonde hair. In the distance, I can see the night beasts crawling out from the crags in the mountains as the sun sets.
The appearance of the night beasts from their dark and shadowy hiding places always heralds the sunset. They waste no time, even adventuring into dim sunlight to sate their bloodlust. I grin slyly to myself as I watch a pack of them dart after a stray deer. When I was young and free of responsibility, I would follow the hunts on my deadwood broom, just for the joy of seeing the night beasts tear apart their prey’s necks.
But there is no more time to waste staring into the barren mountains. Not when Maaz has need of me. I whirl around and stalk back into the Bloodbane keep. A massive fortress built directly into the mountainside; the keep is a monolithic structure of dark grey stone. The walls are huge slabs of stone with few windows. The halls are lit with torches and flaming chandeliers hanging from the tall ceilings. Dark and foreboding, it has been my home for hundreds of years.
I sweep through the halls, past the novice Bloodbane witches that mop the floors and serve us. They bow their heads nervously as I pass but I ignore them. Maaz may have the time and appetite to torture our younger sisters, but I find such obvious entertainment lacking in substance. I prefer unexpected and unpredictable cruelty.
Maaz is in the Holy Rite. I’ve kept her waiting for an hour. She didn’t bother to summon me herself, so I won’t bother to do as she commands until it pleases me. The Bloodbane nature is one of obstinance and conflict. It’s in our blood.
The Holy Rite is in the top of the keep in the center tower. I sweep up the stairs, glancing through the slivers of windows out into the mountain night. Soon, the night creatures will crawl from the crevices and gullies up the keep walls and we will delight in flaying them. But before then, I must speak with Maaz.
I push open the heavy iron doors and step reverently into the Holy Rite. The room is circular, with giant pillars surrounding the Blood Well in the center. Large doors on either side of the room lead out into the balcony that surrounds the room. The doors are shut now, blocking the heavy winds and rain and the night creatures from creeping into our holiest of places. Torches line the room, filling it with a red glow.
Maaz is in the center, kneeling before the Blood Well. My footsteps are silent as I pad towards her. Her pale blonde hair is braided in a complicated strand, her cloak discarded on the ground next to her. I can feel my blade strapped to my thigh and I imagine how easy it would be to slice into her flesh while she looks away.
Her head snaps towards me when I’m within arm’s reach. Her cold blue eyes study me imperiously. “Nice of you to join me, Cleo,” she says.
“I am yours to command, sister,” I sneer.
She looks away and tilts her chin to the Blood Well. Above it, Sadal Melik’s symbol hangs from a heavy chain. No one knows Sadal’s true form. When he appears before us, he takes whatever form he wishes. The Bloodbane have depicted him as a seven-horned crocodile for thousands and thousands of years. “Kneel before the Master,” she whispers.
I grimace, slipping my gaze towards the empty Blood Well. Maaz is the most devout of our sisterhood. I’ve never understood her devotion to Sadal. “He isn’t one for piousness,” I quip. “Tell me why you’ve brought me here.”
“I have failed,” Maaz says under her breath. She runs a hand over the rough stone at the lip of the Blood Well.
I narrow my eyes, staring down at her. I told Maaz many years ago when she first cursed Altair that he was not hers to toy with. But she insisted on giving him a thousand years to break his curse. And now he’s gone and done it at the last minute. My lip curls as I stare at Maaz’s distraught back. She’s a fool. I stay silent, waiting for Maaz to speak. I have nothing to say that could bring her any comfort.
“I have failed my sisters and I have failed my Master,” she mumbles. I watch as she withdraws a knife from her thin shift. She holds it over her narrow wrist. “I am not fit to be the Master’s bride.”
She plunges the knife to her skin while I
