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Chapter 5
Evening turned into night, and for the first time in a long time, I slept not only well, but through until morning. By the time I woke, the tray from last night’s dinner had been taken away and replaced with fruits, cheese, and nuts. But it was the absence of Mrak that truly unsettled me.
I clutched the sheets around my naked body as I sat up, being careful not to displace the breakfast tray. “Mrak?”
Only silence answered. My brow furrows as I turned to study the barren, crimson landscape outside. From here, it was hard to believe anyone lived outside a palace like this. But shadow demons weren’t human, so anything was possible.
My worry for Mrak and what his absence meant grew as minutes dragged on without him. I assumed that after last night, when he’d fiercely claimed me, finally using my body however he wanted in whatever way he wanted, Mrak would be here in the morning.
He’d have been here if it were up to him—I was sure of that. Which meant something more important must have drawn him away. I couldn't believe I hadn’t woken to any disturbances at all, considering how light of a sleeper I’d become since being a prisoner in Lazarus’s feeding community for a decade. And yet here I was, alone and wondering where Mrak had gone.
I hoped there hadn’t been more refugees. Or another attack. Both would mean Sylas was moving against Mrak even more fiercely. Either would mean we were running out of time to figure out a way to deal with him.
I picked at the breakfast tray as I thought back on what little I knew of Sylas. Almost all of my information about him was filtered through a personal lens. He was Mrak’s brother. He’d taken Leif’s sister. He was, supposedly, incredibly evil.
I considered this as I nibbled on something resembling a pineapple in taste but an orange in shape. No wonder Karn was so concerned with an heir for Mrak. Mrak had to look as stable as possible compared to an evil tyrant who’d stolen power. But that was even more complicated by the fact that Mrak would have to showchange, too. It wouldn’t be enough to simply present Mrak’s people with someone “not a tyrant” to rule. They needed relief right now. Reassurance. Empathy. All things that, according to Mrak’s own words, he hadn’t necessarily given them previously.
My mind clung to that thought as I barely registered the feeling in my fingers going away. It was an odd sort of crawling numbness that slipped down my wrist and into my arms. Only when I dropped the piece of fruit without meaning to did my thoughts dislodge themselves into the present moment.
“Wha—” I went to ask aloud of the crawling numbness, but the word got stuck in my throat halfway through. A throat that was now constricting. No further words came out—even breathing grew difficult as my chest squeezed.
My eyes widened with panic. I clutched my throat, willing it to open so I could breathe again, but instead lost more air to the struggle.
Mrak!I screamed in my mind, forgetting we were no longer connected in that way. He wasn’t a breath away anymore. And gods, it might be the death of me.Mrak, help!
It was no use. He wouldn’t hear, and as that realization set in my world dimmed into tiny black spots on my vision. Those spots swarmed together as darkness encroached.
Allergic, I thought. A reaction to strange foods. But Mrak had been with me for over a year on Earth. He’d know I had no food allergies, and would’ve steered me clear of known allergens here.
Poison. More likely. And both Mrak and Karn would find me here dead because of it. No love. No more heir. Just rage. And rage on Mrak was dangerous. There were several vampires dead now because of it from the just last few days.
I gasped, seeking air and finding none. Time was running out as the numbness in my body turned to a cold chill that swept through right to the bone, inch by inch, along my limbs.
Death. It was moving swiftly toward me. It watched me from the shadows pooling from the corners of the room. Formed into an entity watching me, nameless and void, as I died.
What was that?
Screw this. I was dying. Seeing things. Confused. Desperate for air.
I gritted my teeth together and lifted my palm just enough to not catch the bed on fire when I summoned flames. Even moving my hand that much sent waves of agony through me, my palm feeling heavier than stone. Flames launched from my hand in a quick burst of spherical fire that slammed into the stone door, rattling it on its hinges.
I fell back against the bed as weakness slowed me. I wouldn’t be able to do that again. My lungs screamed from lack of air, but nothing I did opened my throat enough to breathe.
As the world began swimming out of view, I vaguely registered the door to my chambers swinging open.
“Aisling!” Mrak barreled through—recognizable only by his voice. Nothing in my vision was clear anymore. A second form followed him, most likely Karn. He seemed to be everywhere Mrak went.
Words tumbled together. Sound seemed to come to my ears through stuffed cotton.Poisoned. Heal. Stay back.These words filtered in, but the rest drifted away as my eyes slid shut.
Someone lifted me into their lap—Mrak, I assumed—and cradled me into the crook of an arm. I felt a palm settle on my stomach. Heat, immense and strong, flooded my abdomen like fire burning. My eyes shot open not just from the sudden searing flames coursing through me, but because of what itfeltlike.
Like Mrak had slid vampire venom into my veins.
The similarities set off alarms in my mind as Mrak’s magic sent me and my soul teetering closer to death—but a warm one this time, not cold from the poison. I was better off in that respect, except that I felt every part of me dying piece by piece as the flames claimed it. There was no pleasure here. No ecstasy. In this, Mrak’s magic differed from vampire venom.
There were just white-hot flames. Pain. And a growing sense of death that reminded me why ecstasy was only one part of the pleasurable equation in vampire venom.
Fear of death went away as soon as you got the delicious adrenaline boost from skirting it.
