Ronan
Fucking hell, I was humming again.
The old habit crawled up my throat like a disease I couldn’t shake, a remnant from a life I should’ve forgotten centuries ago. But here I was, watching the rise and fall of Atreya’s chest as she lay passed out beside me, and my traitorous mouth was forming melodies like I was some kind of undead songbird.
The wards were down, and I’d done what they said couldn’t be done—snatched the queen right out from under Ramses’ nose. The look on that bastard’s face when the shadows swallowed us whole? Worth every risk.
Sweet chaos, what a show it had been. The arena erupting into mayhem, Servat’s screams still echoing off the walls, panic spreading like wildfire through the crowd. And there I was, playing my part perfectly, while Eldra’s rebel crew thought they were the ones pulling all the strings.
Idiots.
The memory of how I’d gotten roped into this clusterfuck was crystal clear—probably because it started with me getting cockblocked in the seediest tavern this side of Tor.
I’d been riding high on willing barmaid blood, the iron-rich taste still coating my tongue, when I first laid eyes on Gaelinantis Otear. Gael, the pretty-faced bastard who’d end up dragging me into this mess. The tavern was exactly what you’d expect—damp wood, dim lights, and the kind of clientele that made thieves look respectable.
Xaneth, the arrogant prick I called master, was putting on his usual show. “The King of Ember has extended his hospitality to us,” he’d boasted, fangs out like some fresh-turned fledgling who couldn’t control himself. “We are honored guests within his realm.”
My master was always stupid that way. Couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut if his life depended on it.
Most of the patrons were either too enthralled or too drunk to care about the fanged asshole bragging in the corner. But not Gael. No, that crafty son of a bitch knew exactly what he was doing.
“Welcome, traveler.” His voice had been smooth as aged whiskey. “What brings you to this corner of depravity? Besides the—well—depravity.”
I should’ve known right then that my night was about to go sideways. But the blood high had me stupid, and when he pulled out that flask from the Old Country, I watched Xaneth fall for the bait like the greedy bastard he was.
I rolled my eyes and languidly turned my head to look at Gael. A frock of blonde hair hung down around his shoulders, and his blue eyes glittered the way mine would when I found easy prey.
Intrigued, I dropped the barmaid from my lap. The corner of Gael’s mouth twitched in what might have been amusement. “And you. Would you care to join me upstairs? The night is long, and the company here grows tiresome.”
I flexed my fingers and smirked. “I do love the hospitality of this country,” I said, letting my fangs show just enough to make the threat clear.
Xaneth grunted and turned away, eyes glazed with blood-drunk stupor. “Whore,” he muttered.
The word rolled off me like water. Xaneth would let me have my fun tonight because he was riding his own high, too caught up in his delusions of grandeur to care what his “spawn” did.
We climbed those creaking stairs to a loft room that smelled of mold and desperation. Cobwebs decorated the corners like party streamers at a funeral, and moonlight leaked through a grimy window, painting everything in shades of grey.
“I’ve fucked in worse places,” I said, yanking off my shirt and kicking my boots across the warped floorboards. The cheap wood groaned under my feet like it was considering giving up altogether.
Gael watched me with those too-bright eyes, a predator’s smile playing at his lips. “I’ve no doubt,” he replied, “but tonight, you won’t be sharing a bed with me.”
I froze mid-strip, muscles coiling tight. “Oh?” My eyebrow arched high as a gallows. “And what game are we playing then, pretty boy?”
The bastard didn’t answer. Instead, he reached into his satchel and pulled out something that made the air wrong. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed it onto the hay bed. The object hit the straw with a soft thud that seemed to echo in my bones, and then reality started to tear itself apart.
Before I could move, Gael closed the distance between us. His hand slammed into my chest, and I stumbled backward through the portal’s maw. The world dissolved into a kaleidoscope of color and pain, every cell in my body screaming as I was ripped from one place and spat out in another.
When my vision cleared, I found myself sprawled on a carpet worth more than everything I’d stolen in the past century. The Solaris crest sneered down at me from every tapestry, and three figures stood around me like executioners at a hanging.
I folded my hands behind my head and stretched out like I was lounging on a beach instead of potentially moments from death. “Well,” I drawled, “this is definitely the most creative way someone’s ever tried to kill me.”
A woman with dark blue hair narrowed her eyes and glared at me. Another man stood next to her, whose eyes were white and void of pupils.
Eldra was the kind of beautiful that made you want to bleed.
Dark hair like spilled ink framed a face that belonged in the kind of paintings rich assholes hung in their mansions to make themselves feel important. But it was his eyes that made my fangs itch—blue-grey and burning with their own inner fire, like he’d swallowed starlight and couldn’t quite contain it. The bastard knew exactly how pretty he was, too. Used it like a weapon, all that devastating beauty honed to a killing edge.
I propped myself up on my elbow, tasting the tension in the air. “Well, isn’t this cozy?” My finger jabbed accusingly at Gael’s perfect face. “If you wanted an audience, pretty boy, you could’ve just asked. Though I have to say—” I let my gaze drift deliberately over our newfound company, “—this is taking foreplay to new heights. I call top bunk.”
“Still running that smart mouth, Ronan.” Gael’s smile was all teeth, no warmth. He rattled off introductions like he was reading a shopping list. Madsen—the woman with murder in her eyes. Hisen—the creepy fuck with white eyes that reminded me of maggots. He didn’t bother with Eldra. Didn’t need to. Power rolled off him in waves that made my skin prickle. If he was anything like his father, I was in some serious trouble.
I got to my feet with exaggerated care, brushing nonexistent dirt from my clothes like this was all perfectly normal. Like I hadn’t just been magically kidnapped mid-hookup. “Points for dramatic flair,” I drawled, meeting Eldra’s burning gaze head-on. “Though I usually prefer dinner before being whisked away to strange rooms.”
“Your master talks too much,” Gael cut in. “Word is, you’ve got an invitation to Ember.”
I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “No shit. What gave it away? The endless bragging or the part where Xaneth practically shouted it from the rooftops?”
“You’ve been around a while,” Hisen’s corpse-eyes fixed on me. The words slithered out like he was tasting them.
“Fascinating observation. Got any other brilliant insights?” My tone could’ve stripped paint.
Eldra moved then, all liquid grace and lethal intent. Each step brought him closer, and my body tensed like a bowstring about to snap. “Ember’s walls are warded,” he said, voice soft as silk over steel. “No one crosses without the king’s blessing. It’s supposed to be impossible.”
A smirk tugged at my lips. “Let me guess—” I leaned forward, close enough to catch his scent (smoke and lightning and something ancient that made my head spin), “—you need the impossible done?”
“Precisely.” His smile was sin incarnate. “And Xaneth can’t know.”
I crossed my arms, feigning boredom while my mind raced. “And who’s the lucky soul I’m supposed to spirit away from the most heavily guarded city in the realm?”
“The Furian Slayer, Atreya.”
The laugh burst out of me before I could stop it, echoing off the walls like broken glass. “The Queen?” I wheezed, clutching my sides. “You want me to kidnap the fucking Queen of Ember?” I straightened, wiping tears from my eyes. “Either you’re all insane, or I’m still drunk on barmaid blood and this is some wild hallucination.”
Nobody laughed with me. Their faces remained carved from stone, and my amusement dried up like water in desert heat.
“Oh,” I said softly, the smile dying on my lips. “You’re serious. You actually want me to snatch the queen from under the king’s nose. From a city that’s locked up tighter than a Preistess’s—”
Eldra nodded, “Yes. And we believe you are one of the few who can do it.”
Madsen snorted.
I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees, and regarded them with renewed interest. “Do you now?” I mused, intrigued despite my survival instincts screaming at me this was a terrible idea.
But if I listened to that all the time, my life would be incredibly boring. “And why, pray tell, would you think I could—or would—do such a thing?”
With a subtle gesture from Eldra, the room emptied until it was just the two of us, the tension between us palpable in the silence that followed. Eldra’s piercing blue-grey eyes never wavered from mine.
“You’ve been a vampire a long time,” Eldra began, repeating what the white-eyed freak said before. “But unlike Xaneth, you don’t possess the gift of walking in sunlight. You’re just a spawn.”
I narrowed my eyes at the thinly veiled insult, my pride stung by his blunt words. “Careful, Eldra,” I warned, my tone low and even. “You wouldn’t want to insult someone you’re trying to recruit, would you?”
He ignored my warning, continuing as if I hadn’t spoken. “However, I just so happen to be in possession of a Daylight ring.”
I scoffed at that. “A Daylight ring? You’re a liar. Everyone knows they were all destroyed after the Dead War that sank Maradi City.”
Eldra’s expression remained unfazed. “Not all,” he corrected. “There was one that survived. An old heirloom saved from the ruin. My father had a penchant for collecting rare artifacts. He always believed they’d serve a greater purpose one day. He was one of the Kings during that war.”
With a flick of his wrist, a small object materialized in his hand, seemingly conjured from thin air. The ring he held between his fingers was a thing of beauty and power, its band forged from an unknown, lustrous metal that seemed to absorb the light around it. At its center sat a stone that was the color of the midday sky, a deep and vibrant blue that pulsed with an inner light. Intricate runes were etched along the circumference of the band, runes that spoke of ancient magic, of binding oaths and promises made in blood.
“This,” Eldra said, holding the ring out to me, “is your key to walking in the sun. With it, you can move freely during daylight hours, undeterred by the fatal touch of the sun’s rays.”
I reached out tentatively, half expecting the ring to vanish like a mirage, but the cool metal was solid against my skin. The weight of it was reassuring, a tangible symbol of possibility, of a world that had just expanded its borders for me.
“Let’s say I believe you,” I said slowly, turning the ring over in my hand, admiring the way it seemed to sing with latent power. “What’s the catch? These sorts of gifts don’t come without strings attached.”
Eldra’s lips curved. “The catch,” he said, “is that you succeed in your mission. You bring us the Furian Slayer, Atreya. Do that, and the ring is yours to keep.”
He nonchalantly waved his hand toward the chamber’s window. The curtains, heavy and dark, were pulled back by an invisible force, and sunlight—pure, unfiltered, deadly sunlight—poured into the room.
I recoiled instinctively, a half-scream tearing from my throat as centuries of ingrained fear of the sun’s wrath took hold. Every fiber of my being braced for the agony of being burned, the searing pain that I had been taught would be the end of my kind.
But the pain didn’t come.
My breath hitched, caught between relief and disbelief, as I slowly extended a hand into the beam of sunlight. The rays kissed my skin, and I felt… nothing. No burn, no blistering heat, just the gentle caress of a sun I had not felt since my human days.
Tears, unexpected and unbidden, welled in my eyes.
How long had I wanted this?
Eldra watched me with an unreadable expression, but I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. He had proven his point, demonstrated the ring’s power, and in doing so, had secured my cooperation more effectively than any threat or promise of wealth could have.
The curtains closed, the warmth of the sun gun, and the ring vanished. I held back a strangled whine.
“Get the Queen, and you get the ring.”
“How am I supposed to get her beyond the wall with that shield?”
Eldra met my gaze then. “We have that taken care of.”
“How do I know you won’t just kill me after?”
“A blood vow,” Eldra stated, as though he had read my mind. “It will guarantee that neither of us can betray the other without suffering grave consequences.”
He stepped forward and extended his hand, palm up, in a silent request for my cooperation. I hesitated for a moment, knowing the gravity of what a blood vow entailed. It was an ancient ritual, a covenant as old as time itself, binding two parties in a pact of blood and magic.
With a slow, deliberate motion, Eldra drew a small, ornate dagger from within his cloak. The blade was slender and sharp, its surface etched with runes that glowed faintly with an otherworldly light. He pressed the edge to his palm, and with a swift, sure cut, opened a shallow wound. Crimson blood welled up and I fought the urge to taste him.
I watched, transfixed, as he closed his eyes and began to chant in a language that seemed to twist the air, making the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The blood from his palm rose, defying gravity, and formed into a small orb that hovered above his hand. It pulsed with each word he spoke, growing brighter, its core ablaze with a fierce, inner light.
Then, Eldra opened his eyes, and they were no longer the clear blue-grey I had become accustomed to. They were pools of liquid fire, reflecting the intensity of the vow being forged. He reached across the space between us, the glowing orb of his blood following the command of his outstretched hand, and hovered before me, waiting.
“It is your turn,” Eldra said, his voice resonating with the power of the vow. “Your blood must join mine.”
I took the dagger from him, the metal warm from his touch, and with a steadying breath, I replicated his action, slicing my own palm. My vampiric blood, darker and thicker than Eldra’s, merged with the glowing orb. The moment our bloods touched, a shockwave of energy coursed through the room, and the orb exploded into a cascade of light that enveloped us both.
The light seared into my flesh, branding the vow into my very being, and I felt an unbreakable bond snap into place. A bond of trust, of necessity that linked my fate to Eldra’s until the terms of our agreement were met.
As the light receded, the cuts on our palms healed over, leaving no trace of the wound—only the lingering sensation of the vow that now connected us.
And that led me here, with the wretched woman unconscious on the forest floor.
The moon, a silent witness in the sky, bathed us in a pale glow, outlining her formidable form in silver. I tapped a finger on my chin in thought, considering the woman who lay before me, the so-called Furian Slayer. Atreya. Her reputation preceded her, a whirlwind of tales painting her as a savage warrior, a force of nature in battle. Yet, here she was, unconscious and vulnerable, her soft breaths and peaceful visage betraying none of the ferocity for which she was renowned.
I couldn’t help but let a smirk play across my lips. The Furian Slayer? More like a slumbering kitten, I mused. The rumors whispered of a creature so violent and fearsome that even the bravest souls would cower in her presence. But as I watched her now, those tales seemed as fanciful as the bedtime stories told to frighten children.
I recalled the few times our paths had crossed previously; each encounter was a game of cat and mouse that left me more amused than intimidated.
Her threats were like sweet nothings to my ears, a delightful attempt at being menacing. I had simply laughed.
“Sleeping beauty lost in the woods,” I said aloud.
