Syrus paced back and forth, a squirmy feeling in his stomach, while Redge sat still in the corner. Bemused by the situation, Syrus tried to think his way through his feelings. He compartmentalized his outrage and rebellious intentions toward his parents and tucked them deep inside so he could deal with them later. Everything had to be channeled into survival. He wanted to live. He wanted his sight back. The hunger for it was strangling him. He wanted to see the faces of the people who thought he was dead, when he came back to life. He would squash his enemies under his foot and show them no mercy.
Focus! Syrus ordered himself. How he would be, and what he would do, were thoughts that distracted from the immediate goal. He must survive. He must reach the wizard. He must keep his guide/guardian from killing him. Syrus told himself to be calm and polite to her even if she was caustic in return. She probably hadn’t volunteered for this.
Syrus heard her approaching footsteps outside the council chamber door. He turned toward the source of the noise, and Redge stood beside him. The hinges creaked as the door swung open. A sharp pang hit Syrus square in the chest. It lasted only a second and then vanished. The pain knocked the breath from him. When he inhaled again, his senses spun with Forest’s scent. Syrus’ teeth began to tingle. He would have to stifle his olfactory sense, or she would instantly be able to see how appealing she smelled to him. Just the idea of one taste was enough to contemplate begging.
Forest walked through the door and spotted Syrus and his personal guard standing at the other end of the room. Her stomach swooped as if the floor had just dropped from under her feet. Her brain screeched to a halt. Every muscle in her body clamped down in defense, turning her to stone. She stared openly at Syrus as though her brain could not process the information her eyes were sending to it. Desire. Admiration of beauty. Objection. Hate. Forest's hatred of vampires snapped through her body. She hated him. No man had the right to be what he was. His existence was injustice.
Snap out of it! You have a job to do, regardless of your errant endocrine system. Anger bordering on rage had her clamping her teeth together. She saw him, but he did not see her.
Forest forced herself forward until she was able to get a good look at his ruined eyes. They were the color of black pearls, and he had no pupils. The second she looked in them, a sharp needling pain filled her own eyes. It was a frustrated, grasping feeling. Determination cemented in Forest’s spine. She would succeed in getting him to the wizard. She would look into Syrus’ eyes and he would look into hers.
Syrus was dressed plainly, but she would have picked him out as royalty any day of the week. His clothes were made of a loose, ebony fabric—a tunic and trousers with a cloak casually hanging open on his broad shoulders. The hilts of two butterfly swords, one on each hip, were visible through his open cloak. A small flask hung on his belt as well. He wore no shoes. His black hair was long and glossy, bound back in a single braid. The length of his hair was a mark of his rank in the Blood Kata.
As she moved closer, Forest noticed some diverse scars on his hands, paler in color than the soft cream of his skin. Syrus had a beautifully full mouth with which he offered her a greeting smile, resulting in a wayward thought she had to banish from her mind. When he smiled at her she was glad that real vampires didn’t look like human saber tooth tigers, the way Hollywood painted them. All of Syrus’ bottom teeth were slightly pointed along with his top incisors. You could still call them fangs but they weren’t elongated, and they didn’t slide in and out. Syrus’ were subtle.
Time had stopped moving as Forest looked at Syrus, all protocol forgotten. She was staring at him like a halfwit. Someone cleared their throat, Redge, perhaps? Forest shook herself and straightened. What was going on in her head?
“My lord Prince.” Forest gave a little bow even though she knew he couldn’t see it. The words tasted like bile in her mouth. Respect, respect, respect. She chanted in her head.
“Forest.” He reached out for one of her hands in a gesture of greeting. She grasped it without thinking. He inhaled sharply and threw her hand away from him.
She remembered too late the silver rings she wore. “Oh! I’m sorry! I forgot that I was wearing them. I’m so sorry.”
Syrus shook his burned hand with an irritated expression on his face. He took a deep breath. “You have my thanks and the thanks of my family for taking this mission. I hope these next few days will pass with little consequence and very little danger. And although we are technically enemies, I’m sure that we can avoid killing each other.”
A half strangled giggle escaped Forest’s lips before she bit down on her tongue. She inhaled twice, working hard to control herself. “Let us hope so, my lord.”
“Please call me Syrus.”
Forest inclined her head again. “Syrus.”
“I assume you have a plan for our journey?”
“A flexible plan. We'll take the tunnel under the castle, and we will travel through the night until we reach my home, in the fringe. It's remote and secluded. If we are lucky, we will encounter no one. We have to wait for a signal from Kindel when it is safe to proceed into the Wolf’s Wood.”
“Is it time to start?” he asked.
“As soon as you are ready.”
Redge walked behind Syrus like a bulky shadow as they made their way to the tunnel’s entrance. The tunnel would deposit them outside of Paradigm’s borders. It was enchanted for quick passage, and though they walked at a normal pace, they covered miles in minutes. Forest wondered if Redge was planning to come too. But as soon as they stepped outside, Syrus and Redge embraced like brothers, and Redge handed him a bulging pack, which Syrus slung over one shoulder. Redge turned and went back inside the tunnel.
“Lead on,” Syrus said.
Forest looked up at the night sky, gaining her bearings. Paradigm glowed in the distance behind them, the wilderness ahead. She furrowed her brow as she looked at Syrus. Excitement emanated from him. He shifted his pack on his shoulder, waiting for her to move so that he could follow. Why would he be excited? Maybe it wasn't excitement, maybe it was anxiety. She could understand anxiety. She turned and began to walk, unsure at what pace she should assume. Given the circumstance, if she were alone, or had a companion that could see; she would be moving as briskly as possible. As it was, Forest was walking with a medium gait.
Syrus matched her pace and stayed on her heels with ease. Forest was relieved he had no problem following her without a guiding hand or having to place his hand on her shoulder. That would have made the trip seem twice as long, and more than twice as irritating. After a while of walking in silence, Forest began to notice that Syrus walked so stealthily he hardly made any sound at all. He glided sinuously behind her. She could easily imagine he was stalking her like prey.
Forest glanced up at the clear night sky, struck by the immensely odd turn of events. It was hard for her to wrap her brain around the fact that the Prince of Regia was not only alive but was walking behind her, expecting her to safeguard his life. And to top it off, the royal pain was sexy as hell. Stop thinking like that! She told herself. The odds of getting through this trip without making a fool of herself were already looking thin.
“What is it?” Syrus asked in a low voice.
Forest jumped and checked herself. She had been looking at him over her shoulder as she walked. “Nothing.” She turned her eyes back to the road.
A moment passed.
“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I don’t know when someone is staring at me. I can feel your eyes on me." Syrus' voice went quiet and breathy. "The questions you’re too afraid to ask are running over my skin like someone’s fingers.”
Forest could feel her cheeks burning. “They are?”
“No." He chuckled. "I could tell you were looking over your shoulder by the way your stride changed.”
Forest had a split second of indecision whether or not she was angry. The next second she was laughing quietly, and made a mental note that Syrus was ornery.
“So,” he ask
ed, “you must have some questions, don’t you?”
Forest slowed her pace slightly and looked around, listening. It seemed safe enough to have a small conversation. She was certain, for the moment, they weren’t being followed. She had many questions she wanted to ask, but she took a moment to think about how to proceed. This was the beginning of their trip and the beginning of their acquaintance. Much of how things would be between them would be determined with this first exchange of words. If she was to have any standing with him, she had to demand it with her tone and demeanor. He was the prince and she was nothing. However, she had the knowledge and experience that had landed the job, so she was in charge. Casual friendliness with an unmistakable edge of authority was how she intended to treat him.
“Why are you barefoot?” she asked, remembering to keep her voice down.
“If I can feel the ground under my feet, it’s less likely I’ll fall on my face or in a hole.”
Forest thought it best not to ask too many questions, so he didn’t get the idea she was overly interested. Asking too much also opened the door for him to ask questions in return, and she wanted to avoid that.
“It was a wizard who attacked you, five years ago?”
Syrus sighed. “Yes. I never saw his face. I'm sure he meant to kill me. I was in a death-sleep for a long time afterward. When I woke up, the whole investigation was basically over, and I was blind. The wizard on the council, Devonte, tried to cure me.” Syrus snorted. “There were times that the things Devonte tried on me were more painful than the spell that blinded me.”
“So, we’re going to Maxcarion, specifically, because he was the one who attacked you?”
Syrus smiled. “You’re sharp, aren’t you? Yes. He was the wizard who attacked me. It's not believed that he holds anything against me, personally. During the investigation, it was discovered that throughout the last few years, Maxcarion has been a mercenary. Someone else hired him to attack me. He is the best hope I have for restoration.”
Listening to him, Forest discovered she liked the sound of his voice immensely. She tried to think about what the last few years must have been like for him. If he was still considered a master of the Blood Kata, he would have had to make serious adjustments, if not relearn many things to still be able to fight. But she figured that wasn’t the case. He had probably been allowed to keep his rank because he was the prince. She wanted to ask him about his formal training in the Kata, but those kinds of questions were too personal for a new acquaintance.
“What do you intend to offer him as payment?” she asked.
“That’s my business,” he snapped.
Forest huffed and picked up the pace. Annoyance tinged with reminder that she hated all vampires. This one might be good looking, but so what? Leith was good looking, and nothing would ever cure her of hatred for him. So that was that—she wouldn’t even try to soften the edges of her hatred. Since Syrus was bent on being rude, she would be coldly civil and nothing more.
She looked around as she continued to power walk. The night was edging toward its halfway mark. The aquamarine moon was at its zenith, casting dim light on the road that stretched out before them. They were approaching a thickly wooded area. It was unlikely they would pass through unnoticed. She turned to tell Syrus this and found him, surprisingly, a long way behind her, obviously struggling to keep up. He wore traces of panic on his face, and she could tell by the way he was walking that he was in pain.
Forest ran back to him, filled with inexplicable concern. He stopped and exhaled raggedly. The scent of blood had her spine stiffening.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You were going so fast. This road is rough.”
Forest looked back along the road. The moon illuminated the smears of blood on the ground. Syrus’ feet were bleeding. So far, she was proving to be a poor caretaker. Well, it wasn’t her fault if the great moron refused to wear shoes.
“Come over here and sit down under this tree,” Forest said, reaching out for his hand, and then, remembering her silver jewelry, pulled it back again. He had followed her without assistance before, so he shouldn’t need it now.
Syrus took his pack off and sat down with his feet stretched out in front of him. Forest looked at his wounds. They weren’t deep and would probably only take a few minutes to heal.
“I need a drink,” Syrus said.
“Well, I don’t have one for you.”
“Sure you do.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
Her mouth fell open in shock. Was he suggesting that she let him feed from her? Forest wasn't sure how to best express her violent negative response.
Syrus shrugged and reached for his pack. “Some other time, perhaps.”
He dug his hand around inside, before pulling out a corked bottle. He ran his fingers over the neck of the bottle where Forest could see a few etched designs. He put the bottle down, reached into his pack, and withdrew another. Syrus ran his fingers over the neck of this bottle as well. It too was etched. His face held a look of indecision for a second before he shrugged, uncorked the bottle, and took a drink. He closed his eyelids, leaned his head back, and sighed.
Forest crossed her arms over her chest. “The etchings tell you what type of blood is in the bottle?”
“Yes.”
“What kind did you just drink?”
“Elf.” He smiled vaguely and took another swig. “The fastest healers.”
She looked at his knobby pack. “Did you only bring blood?”
“No. I have water as well.”
“Do you have any human blood with you?” she asked aggressively.
Syrus straightened. “No. Of course not.”
Her eyes probed his face. “Hmm.” Once again, her eyes itched with annoyance that her gaze was not returned. “Ogre blood has the strongest scent. Do you have any?”
He reached for the first bottle he had pulled from his pack and held it out to her. She took it from him, and one of her fingers touched his. A pain like someone jamming a needle up her finger jolted her, and she gasped. Syrus, likewise, retracted his hand, as though it burned and swore elegantly under his breath.
“Please take off that accursed silver,” he said angrily.
She ignored his request. “I’m going to cover the blood you left on the road so we aren’t tracked by it. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Sure, no problem,” he said sarcastically.
The pain in Forest’s finger eased and vanished while she trickled the ogre blood on the ground where Syrus’ feet had bled, completely confusing the scent. No one would have been able to figure it for what it was.
As she walked back to where Syrus was waiting for her, she began to bristle with anger. It was very early in the game, but he didn’t seem to be such a bad guy. Why did he have to be so damned attractive? Leith’s face wandered into her mind, and she compared it to Syrus’. Forest hadn’t thought superficially about the way Leith looked since she’d been a schoolgirl. Usually when she thought about him, she only saw red and plotted how best to kill him. But now, she found herself thinking about his face.
Most people thought Leith was extremely good looking. Forest had once thought so too. Now his looks were like that of a mannequin to her. Basically perfect, and perfectly boring. Syrus, on the other hand, was not only extremely good looking, but his looks were interesting. If Leith had scars on his hands, as Syrus did, he’d have worn gloves everywhere. Leith was a baby, Syrus a warrior. The second she thought that, she corrected herself. She didn’t know that yet, but she sensed it.
Syrus was putting the bottle of elf blood away when she reached him. He held out his hand for the ogre blood. “Hold it from the top please,” he said. “I don’t want to get burned again.”
Nor I.
“We are about to go through a wooded area,” Forest told him. “We might come across some company in there. We both need to be on our guard.”
“All right,” Syrus said nonchalantly.
“Put your hood
up.”
The woods ahead were so dense and sprang up so abruptly that it looked like a small mountain instead of a small forest. The road led right into the heart of it. Entering was like going through a huge doorway into a tunnel. The moonlight barred by the thick branches and made very little penetration. It was very, very dark within.
The road became narrow, threading jaggedly through the black trees. Forest had only ever been through this wood in the daytime. Many eyes focused on them. Forest and Syrus pulled closer together instinctively. They moved as swiftly and silently as the wind over the ground. She was surprised at how in this moment of danger, they were able to move together like one entity. If the ground was hurting Syrus’ feet again, he made no show of it.
The smell of death burned in Forest's nose. They should have circumvented this place. Too late to turn around now. Something was following.
Syrus grabbed the back of her robe. “Faster,” he whispered aggressively.
They moved faster. Syrus kept urging her on by pushing his fist into the small of her back. She listened to the breathing and movements of whatever stalked them. It was a Guardian—she was sure of it. Forest swore inwardly. Dread dug sharp fingers into her belly.
The exit of the woods loomed in the distance ahead. It was possible they were being herded into a trap. If that were the case, their pursuer would have a cohort, or a number of cohorts waiting for them just inside the edge of the trees before the wood opened to the sky.
“Syrus,” she whispered, “in a second, we must get off the road. And we have to run. Can you?”
“Yes. Just say when. If I lose my grip on you, I’ll be lost. Please don’t leave me.”
“I won’t. I swear it.”
They continued forward. The closer they came to the end, the more Forest feared she was right. It was a trap. She could smell those waiting to ambush them, hiding in the trees ahead.
“Ready?” she whispered.
Syrus tightened his grip on the back of her robe. One more breath… three more steps…“Now!” she cried, almost without making a sound.
They stepped off the road into the thick of trees. They ran with the speed of those literally running for their lives. A horrible roar came from behind, as well as some loud crashing off to the side. Forest wove through the trees with Syrus right behind her. They had to emerge from the wood! Once they broke free, they would be safe. At least momentarily.
Their pursuers moved at them from the side, trying to cut across. Forest kept pushing forward as fast as she could go with Syrus hanging onto her robe. But they weren’t going fast enough. They were going to be caught. Their only hope was to stand and fight. To stop her own momentum, Forest put her heels down and began to slide to a halt. Dirt and gravel flew up on both sides of her feet like swelling waves.
“NO!” Syrus roared.
They were in sight of the edge, and Forest could hardly account for what happened next. Syrus lifted her off her feet and continued running at a speed that made her equilibrium flip. The black trees turned into blurs, and the next thing she knew, he was setting her down on the ground in the full light of the moon. Both of them were panting, and Forest looked back at the woods. A ghastly roar erupted from the trees. The whole forest shuddered in rage.
Forest took a few moments to catch her breath. “How did you do that?”
Syrus was still panting heavily. “Do what?” he wheezed.
“Run like the Flash?” she demanded.
“The what?”
“Never mind. I’ll concede that Vampires are fast in general, but that was…”
He shrugged as though it was nothing. “Just a basic skill of a master of the Kata.”
The sounds of more crashing through the woods came from behind them.
“We need to keep moving,” Syrus said.
“Yeah. Let’s get back on the road.”
They began walking again at a medium pace.
“How could you see where to run, once you picked me up?” she asked.
He snorted. “Listen to yourself.”
“What?”
“'How could you see?’ I’m blind. I can’t see! It was a risk, I’ll admit, but I could sense we were close. I had a bad feeling about fighting the guardians of that wood. What do you think they were?”
“I didn’t get a look, but I think they may have been a merge of ogre and werewolves in beast form.”
“That’s a nasty combination,” Syrus said.
“I agree. I hope I don’t die in battle in a forest. I don’t fancy becoming a guardian for all eternity, especially if I merged with my fallen adversary. That doesn’t happen in the Wolf’s Wood, in case you were wondering.”
“It doesn’t?”
“No. It’s a good thing too. We’d never make it through. No one would. There have been far too many battles fought in the Wolf's Wood. The whole place would be crawling with deformed, hybrid entities.”
She paused, then continued. "I'm sorry for taking us through there. It was a bad call. I’ve been through that wood back there so many times because it’s the most direct route to my house from the castle. But I’ve never gone through at night. I didn’t even think about the guardians giving us trouble. It must be all that blood you’re carrying—riled them up.”
“Hmm…Possibly. I probably brought too much.” Syrus shrugged. “I was just trying to be prepared for whatever. I swear I’m not a glutton. I need more when I’m injured, and I know that’s a possibility.”
Vampires are disgusting. She thought. Then she told herself it wasn’t his fault that he was born a sucker, any more than it was her fault she was born a Halfling.
Forest glanced at him over her shoulder again and almost stopped walking. He was smiling broadly at nothing at all. She could feel excitement emanating from him again, the same way she had felt it when they had first left the castle.
“Why are you smiling?”
Syrus’ expression changed to a childlike embarrassment. “I’m not.”
Forest turned her head back around and rolled her eyes. Then she jumped, startled, as Syrus burst out laughing.
“I can’t tell you how great this is!” he said exuberantly. “I’m not bored! Nor am I likely to be for the next two weeks!”
“Are you nuts?” Forest hissed. “Keep your voice down.”
“Sorry,” he said more quietly. “It’s just that I haven’t been outside the confines of my own castle for so long! Years. Now I’m out. It’s great.”
Forest found his enthusiasm annoying. “You can’t see,” she said in a clipped tone. “How can there be any difference between there and anywhere else?”
“You’re right. It shouldn’t matter…But it does.”
“Fine. That’s great. I’m so pleased you’re having a good time. Now shut up, and keep your happy little thoughts to yourself.”
Syrus clicked his teeth together. She looked over her shoulder at him again. His face was blank, but she could feel the anger generating from him. She smiled broadly, enjoying the fact she had angered him, and turned her head back around to face the road.
A sharp sting, like that of a bee hit her in the right butt cheek. “Ouch!” Forest jumped and whirled around. “What the hell was that?!”
“What?” Syrus asked blankly, innocent as doves.
Forest snarled. “I know you did that, Sucker!”
Syrus bared his teeth, taking one calculated step towards her. “You will show me respect, Halfling. I am the prince.”
“Not right now, you aren’t.” Forest stepped up to him, mere inches between them. “Right now you are nothing more than my shadow, and you will stay that way if you want to live through this.” She poked him hard in the chest with her finger.
Syrus had never been so enraged in all his life. An overwhelming desire to bite her washed over him, making his teeth throb. He knew she was right, but he was determined to put her in her place anyway. In one easy swoop, Syrus pinned Forest’s arms to her sides and lifted her off the ground, cr
ushing her against him. His lips peeled back over his teeth as he dipped his head to her neck when the smell of silver sobered him. What was he doing? He had never done anything like this to anyone. Biting someone in anger was one of the lowest things a vampire could do.
Vitriol coated Forest’s insides as she thought how similar a position she had recently been in with Leith.
“If you do this,” she whispered. “You had better kill me, because if I live through it, I’ll make it my singular goal, to end you in the slowest, most excruciating way I can.”
Syrus dropped her to her feet, feeling lower and more worthless than he ever had in his whole life. “Forgive me…I was…angry.”
He wanted to touch her even if it burned him. She would never let him, not after this. He certainly couldn’t blame her. Syrus took a slow breath, feeling the great weight of loss.
Forest turned her back and marched on. A sob clenched in her throat, tears running down each cheek. Tears Syrus could easily smell.
Chapter Six