Ciopori smiled, lost in her daydream, swimming in the memory of Marquis’s impossibly beautiful blue-black eyes...and that gorgeous, thick raven hair. She could still hear the velvet tenor of his voice as it played again and again in her mind, a haunting melody, pure and hypnotic. When she concentrated, she could still see the hard cut of his jaw, the sculpted perfection of his lips, the perfect angles of his face, and the rock-hard lines of his body—a body that appeared to have been chiseled out of granite by the hands of a master artisan. Truly, her sisters had created a magnificent, unparalleled species…even as they had sought to curse them.
Ciopori laughed aloud then, as she also remembered the warrior’s complete lack of social grace, and his cerebral analysis of simple wit: The male didn’t have a clue when it came to humor or subtle nuances; yet oddly enough, Ciopori found those traits adorable. In fact, they were the qualities she admired most because they softened what might otherwise be a far too overwhelming male.
She regarded the sky once more. What an amazing night. She had found the mate of her soul, the man of her dreams. And now, another warrior in the house of Jadon—her beloved brother’s direct line of ancestry—was being given the same chance to find eternal love. She was so caught up in her musing that she didn’t realize Napolean Mondragon had joined her on the veranda until he spoke.
“Greetings, Princess.” Napolean remained formal, as usual, speaking to her in the Old Language. “It is an incredible sight to behold, is it not?”
Ciopori turned toward the monarch and bowed her head ever so slightly. “Milord.” She turned back to the sky. “Indeed, it is magnificent. I don’t believe I have ever seen anything more spectacular in all of my life.”
Napolean smiled, his shimmering silver irises casting light like crystals against the moon; his gorgeous, waist length hair swaying with his regal movements. “I’ve seen the Blood Moon sky a thousand times over my long life, yet every time it appears, it is as if I am viewing it for the first time. I am pleased that you are able to see it.”
Ciopori gave him a curious glance. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Napolean shrugged his broad shoulders. “The Blood Moon is an omen—a sign which only appears to the male descendants of both Jadon and Jaegar—”
“My brothers,” Ciopori clarified.
“A sign which only appears to the male descendants of your brothers,” Napolean corrected, still clearly in awe of her lineage. “Yet, it was a mercy given to the descendants of Jadon, alone, following the Curse. And for that reason, humans have never been able to observe the phenomenon: The sky looks perfectly normal to them right now. The moon looks the same as always.”
He came to stand beside her and paused, as if searching for the right words. “As you are not...a product of the Curse...I wasn’t sure if you would be able to behold it or not.”
Ciopori sighed and gazed toward the forest, both of them now leaning against the banister. “I can see your point, milord. However, I am a Celestial Being of pure blood, one of the remaining descendants of the goddess Cygnus and her human mate, Mateo; so of course I can view the Omen: All that occurs in the heavens occurs in my ancestral home.”
Napolean looked at her wistfully—clearly studying her face. “You know, I remember you, Princess Ciopori…from before.”
“Pardon me?” She looked surprised.
Napolean’s smile was exquisite. “I remember you from Romania.”
Ciopori turned to face him then, her hands clasped together in front of her. “I’m afraid I don’t share this memory, Sir Mondragon; please, elaborate.”
Napolean laughed, his voice a rich baritone. “You wouldn’t, Princess—being that I was only ten-years old when the Blood Curse occurred.” He sighed. “I saw you only once. It was right before...the sacrifices began...when our world was still a fair and just place to be...
“It was after a particularly successful harvest—at one of the honoring ceremonies: You were there with your father, the king, although I don’t recall seeing your sister or your mother. But you—you were standing behind your father on the platform, wearing one of the most exquisite gowns I had ever seen. Well, for a five-year-old.” He chuckled lightly. “It was lavender—like the lilies of the field—and I remember staring at all that silk as it swayed in the wind. The sun cast a shadow beneath you, causing the effect of a halo above you. I was but a child then, and I believed our king to be a god. Gazing at you on that platform, I was certain you were a goddess as well.”
Ciopori laughed. “Well, that is quite a compliment coming from one who grew up to be such a powerful leader himself. I’m sure many of the children here think the same of you now.” After a moment of silence, she ventured, “If you don’t mind me asking: What house are you from? I mean your lineage before the Curse.”
Napolean looked off into the distance. He raised his eyebrows and sighed as if he rarely thought of such things anymore. “I am the only one of my family that has survived—the last remaining pure-blood Celestial Being of our people.” He glanced at her and smiled. “At least until now.”
Ciopori nodded.
“My direct descendants were begotten of the goddess Andromeda and her human mate, Demetrius Mondragon.”
Ciopori caught her breath. “You come from a very powerful house of magic, milord: I did not realize...”
“That’s quite all right,” Napolean replied.” There is little time for practicing enchantment anymore, ruling the house of—leading your brother’s house is a full-time job.”
Ciopori crossed her arms in front of her. “Then I must say, as difficult as all of this is, I am glad we are here with you, Lord Mondragon of the house of Andromeda. It is not a good feeling to be all alone.”
Napolean declined his head but didn’t answer.
“Speaking of which”—Ciopori gestured toward the sky—“I am quite curious about the male who is being honored tonight by the gods. Who does our Lord Draco smile upon? Do you already know his mate?”
Napolean cleared his throat, and then his face became a blank slate, completely devoid of emotion. “Ciopori...how shall I say this?” He turned around to face her. “The duty of my kingship is this: I see everything that happens in the house of Jadon, both good and bad. I know the thoughts, intentions, and fears of all the males, and all of the choices they make the moment they make them, but I am not permitted by the gods to act upon—or even reveal—such information. To interfere in the lives of my subjects would be to...tamper with the future…or alter the hands of fate. To change destiny or obstruct free will.
“Not to mention, it would be a severe violation of the privacy of our males—certainly unworthy of the respect each one has earned. Verily, I may act only upon a direct request, a matter of law and order, in the interest of our survival, or the earth’s protection...but my reach ends there.”
Ciopori declined her head in deference; perhaps she had violated some sort of tenet. “Forgive me, milord: Was I wrong to inquire about this matter?”
Napolean smiled and shook his head. “No, Princess—not at all. A male’s constellation is common knowledge in the house of Jadon; however, the identity of his mate is not. Therefore, I can answer your first question but not your last.” He drew in a deep breath. “It is the warrior Marquis whose constellation illuminates our sky this night. He is the chosen one of Draco.”
Ciopori hesitated. “You don’t mean Marquis Silivasi?” As if she knew more than one vampire named Marquis.
Napolean nodded, his face serene. “Yes, the Ancient Master Warrior, Marquis Silivasi.”
Ciopori caught at the rail, her knees buckling beneath her. She froze as she turned away from Napolean, dumbfounded. He had repeated the name twice, yet she still could not believe she’d heard him correctly. “You mean...the male who was here earlier today…Nachari’s brother…that Marquis Silivasi?”
Napolean’s calm demeanor appeared deliberate. “Yes, the constellation is his.”
Ciopori’s hand flew to her mouth in a despe
rate attempt to restrain from asking a third time. It took every ounce of composure she had to stand on the deck and look at the king…as if the entire world had not just collapsed around her. “If you would be so kind, I would require a moment alone.” Her voice sounded hollow and far away, as if the words were coming from someone else’s mouth.
Napolean bowed ever so slightly, his expression betraying nothing. “Of course.”
Ciopori held up her hand. “I would, however, like to have a word with the wizard, Nachari, if you wouldn’t mind. Please send him out as soon as possible.” She swallowed a lump in her throat and fought to keep from trembling.
Napolean placed a comforting hand on the small of her back but refrained from speaking. And Ciopori knew it was just as he had said: The sovereign leader of the house of Jadon already knew everything, and he would ask no further questions because providence had to play itself out—good, bad, or indifferent. The wizened king was faultlessly neutral, an observer at best.
“I will go fetch Nachari now,” he said in a soothing tone of voice.
Ciopori waited restlessly, pacing back and forth across the veranda. Although it had been less than five minutes since she had asked to see Nachari, it felt like an eternity. Finally, the wizard appeared, and like a swan gliding across a lake, his proud gait carried him effortlessly to her side.
“You asked for me?” His voice was deep with concern.
Ciopori tried to hold his gaze, but her own eyes glazed over with tears, and she had to turn away. It was written all over his face—Nachari knew everything—but then, of course he would: Marquis was his brother, after all, and he had seen the two of them together. Ciopori searched for words but found none.
“I am so sorry,” he finally whispered, “not just for you—but for my brother as well.”
Ciopori drew in a deep breath and forced herself to face him. “Then you know who the...female...is then?” She nearly choked over the words.
Nachari nodded, the soft lines of his face hardening. “Yes, when I reached out to my brother just moments ago, I felt her energy in the air around him. As she is someone well known to our family, I recognized her right away.”
Ciopori began to cry, and she brought her hands up to cover her face, ashamed.
“Please do not be embarrassed.” Nachari sighed. “Whatever you are feeling, I’m sure my brother is as well…”
Ciopori wiped her eyes. “Nachari, does he have to—”
“He does, Ciopori.”
She sniffled and tried to regain her composure. “But why? Why can’t it be changed? Has anyone ever tried?” She knew she sounded desperate, but she no longer cared. “Surely, I am not bound by this curse. There must be some kind of exception, some way for Napolean to intercede with the gods. He is from the house of Andromeda; if anyone can do it, he can.”
Nachari looked out toward the forest, carefully considering his next words. “Honestly, Ciopori...I wish it were so.” He shook his head and ran his hand through his silky mane of dark hair. “It is true that there are a lot of unknowns in this situation, but, Princess, the Blood Curse—that just isn’t one of them. Nor is the sacrifice my brother must make at the end of the Blood Moon.” He paused then and took a deep breath before going on. “Kristina Riley—the destiny the gods have chosen for him—is the only female who can give him what he must have right now.”
Ciopori felt his words like a knife slicing through her gut. Although she knew he meant no offense, no words had ever wounded her more deeply. Unwilling to give up so easily, she gathered her courage once again and defiantly squared her shoulders to the handsome wizard. “Forgive my insistence, Nachari, but you simply do not know that. From what Marquis had already told me, there is only one woman who can bear your children...without suffering a horrible fate...and that is your chosen destiny. But there are things you don’t know, reasons why Marquis and I believe we are meant to be together...”
Her voice trailed off. There was no point in trying to convince Nachari of the rightness of her union with Marquis. She needed to stick to the facts, the logical argument. “Is it not true that the woman who ultimately bears the imprint of a male’s constellation on her wrist actually has small traces of celestial blood in her veins? And is it not true that it is the celestial blood that makes them compatible...in terms of having children?”
“Yes, that’s part of it,” Nachari conceded, “but—”
“Then do I not possess more celestial blood than any destiny the gods have ever chosen?”
Nachari hung his head. The compassion in his eyes was as maddening as it was painful. “You have pure celestial blood, Ciopori. No one would argue such a thing. But your blood is that of the goddess Cygnus, is it not? Marquis’s destiny was chosen at birth by Lord Draco, and it is Draco’s blood his mate will have running through her veins. The blood of the dragon god is the only blood that is compatible with Marquis’s.”
Ciopori stared at the wooden planks on the veranda for quite some time before regaining her courage. She lifted her head and tried one last time. “Again, wizard, with all due respect: You just don’t know if it can be done...because your males have never tried any other way. Until now, there has never been any other possibility.” She sighed and held up her hand. “But for the sake of argument, let us assume that what you say is true, and I cannot give Marquis...children.
“I can still argue for him—at the end of the Blood Moon—when the curse comes to claim him.” Her voice was beginning to waver. “Nachari, surely those who have cursed you would not punish me. I am one of them. One of the original females—the very reason the curse was enacted in the first place. Even the gods would have to concede to that point.”
Nachari glanced at the sky. “Ciopori, being who you are, you must be a woman of great faith, are you not?”
“Of course I am. That’s just my point—”
“Do you believe that the gods know all and see all?”
“Of course I do. Of course they do. Yes.”
Nachari looked her in the eyes. “Then they know you are here, don’t they? They know that Marquis...loves you...and you, him. They know exactly who you are and where you are from, yet they do this anyway.” He gestured at the heavens. “Forgive me for being so blunt, but after fifteen-hundred years of making him wait, why did the gods choose now? It is almost as if they acted in haste to prevent the two of you from joining. If you believe in divinity, then there is no coincidence.”
Ciopori blanched at his reasoning. He was right.
She shut her eyes and clutched her arms tight to her stomach. If the gods truly knew all, then they had to know she couldn’t possibly let go of Marquis now that she’d found him: They had to know that she would fight for this warrior to the bitter end. She would never let such a punishment stand.
Ciopori Demir was willing to enter the Valley of Death and Shadows with him if necessary.
five
As if Nachari had read Ciopori’s mind, he held out his hand. “Will you walk with me, Ciopori? There is something I need to show you.”
Ciopori took Nachari’s hand and followed him back into the house. They passed through the receiving room, entered a main hall, and eventually made their way to the rear of a large mud-room that sat just beyond the kitchen. The door to the mud-room opened up to a dark, circular tunnel with a hand-laid cobblestone floor.
“What I’d like to show you is just on the other end of this hall,” Nachari said, ushering Ciopori in front of him. And then with the sweep of his hand, he lit a long row of torches, each one anchored in rows at the top of the arched wall.
Ciopori drew in a deep breath as she followed the wizard through the long, damp tunnel.
When they finally got to the end, there were two heavy, wooden, arched doors—like one might find in an ancient castle. Nachari gestured to the one on the left. “This entrance opens up to the Hall of Justice as well as the Ceremonial Hall of our people.” He placed his hand on the thick iron handle of the door on the right. “An
d this one leads to the Chambers of Sacrifice and Atonement.” He cleared his throat. “You should prepare yourself for the...energy.... It is a place of great mourning and death.”
Ciopori took a slight step back, braced herself, and then nodded. “I’ll be fine.”
Nachari was the one to pause then—lost in a frozen moment in time. It was as if the weight of the entire world were sitting on his shoulders, and he couldn’t bring himself to open the doors. As if his hands were frozen in place.
When he finally summoned his courage, he swung the heavy door open so hard that it slammed against the wall behind it, sending a resounding echo through the already creepy room. He swallowed a lump in his throat. “Come on.”
The moment Ciopori entered the chamber, she felt a sudden drop in temperature. The room resembled a small, 1800s church: There were several rows of pews, all lined up, each one facing a single platform where a pulpit would have been, and the energy of the place was indeed heavy with sorrow. On the solitary platform was a small altar made of multi-colored granite. It had a smooth, hollow surface at the top, and an extremely dark energy swirled around the base.
Nachari pointed to the altar. “At the end of the Blood Moon, each male has two sons: one child of light to carry on the race, and one child of darkness—the soulless one—who is brought here as demanded by the Curse.” He pointed toward the hollow groove at the top of the structure. “The child is placed on the altar by his father or Napolean, depending upon the circumstances. Sometimes the mother attends, as do other family members, but more often than not, Napolean performs the ceremonies himself.”
Ciopori felt sick to her stomach, but she didn’t question the gods. The universe was a place of balance: Light cast a shadow. Day gave way to night. Birth and death mirrored one another. The good could not exist without the contrast of the bad to make it so. However difficult, the disparity of two sons—one good, one evil—was a balanced punishment, and she understood her ancient sisters’ reasoning...even if she didn’t agree with it.