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I cursed under my breath, glaring at her.
“Luckily, I’ve already started the project I told you about earlier. We elite have chosen for a reason. Now that I’m king, I thought I might need more protection. So I claimed a whole class. Renitent, like you. Faster and stronger than any normal chosen.”
“You took their eyes?” I asked.
“My chosen will mirror my image. But I didn’t do it just to be cruel. You see, to break the limitations of human biology, first, you have to hurt them… badly.”
He stepped behind one of the girls and curled his long nails down the side of her cheek, turning her chin. I could make out the faint raised skin of a scar. I felt sick as I realized he’d branded them with his initials, like cattle. And he was planning to do the same to my sister.
I took shaky breaths, listening to the sound of dripping from the roof onto the stone courtyard outside. Was it raining? Or were my senses just picking up ambient nose and filling in the space between. My blade was wet, slick with blood. But with fresh elixir in my veins, I was ready for a new challenge.
“To make someone renitent,” Nigel said, “you need to hurt them deeply. Give them a lot of elixir. They need to be wounded, or the elixir will burn through them and enflame their minds. So, wound, heal. Again and again. Each time, the elixir takes a stronger hold. Never enough to be close to death. But it trains the mortal body to adapt, cells swelling to absorb more. It’s no wonder you’re so defiant, so broken.”
“You disgust me,” I said.
“I’ll put that on your gravestone.”
He took off his jacket and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, then he took a sharp dagger and held it up to his own chest.
“What are you doing?” I asked, my eyes widening.
“Feeding my creations.”
He sliced himself, across his smooth chest and stomach, then his wrists and arms. The young girls crowded around him, greedily licking the shiny, dark blood from his chest. They pushed each other out of the way, writhing like leeches until the wounds healed themselves. My nostrils burned from the potent scent of elixir.
“Listen to them, the children of the night,” Nigel commented over the sounds of slurping. “What pretty music they make.”
“Theatrical, even for you.”
“You haven’t read Damien’s favorite book? I’m surprised, all that time in the library before the trials.”
He flipped his wrist, and the chosen formed a line between us. They were a few years younger than me, but fierce and hungry, now buzzing with elixir. I could see the addiction in their eyes, the blind loyalty. They couldn’t be reasoned with. Not while they were under Nigel’s sway.
When they attacked, it came from all directions. I felt like I was fighting an inky octopus, lashing out with thorny black limbs. Like a spider with fangs stabbing from all sides. Even as I blocked and spun I felt the bite of their knives slipping through my defenses.
The wounds were superficial, but draining. My energy leaked out with each puncture, like a deflated balloon. I felt an arm snap and kicked two so hard I heard their ribs break, but the others were so fast and furious I felt like I was swinging at bees.
Finally my blade connected, running straight through a girl’s chest, her face inches from mine. I saw the pain and anguish in her eyes before she went limp. She collapsed at my feet when I pulled out the sword.
“That’s enough,” Nigel said. The remaining chosen backed away warily. “I can see there’s still room for improvement.”
“What’s the matter, Cyclops?” I asked. “Let me guess, never learned to share your toys?”
“Now Emily, that’s not very kind of you, towards my disability. Don’t feel bad just because you’ve been outsmarted. I’ve been around a lot longer than you have been.” He turned a chair around, revealing a pale boy slumped and curled into a large pillow like a pet cat.Jamie.
A new row of guards stepped forward, rattling shields, their heads covered in helmets and armor. The curates returned, pushing a bound figure between them with a bruised cheek and black eye. Curate Marcus.
Nigel smiled at my stunned expression. Rivka whispered something in his ear. Then she knelt down before him, pulling her hair out of the way and lowering the strap of her gown.
Nigel fed on her until blood was dripping down her shoulder, staring at me the whole time. Then he stood, his lips stained scarlet.
“Who should we kill first,” he leered. “Your brother or your priest?”
“You’re no king,” I spat. “You’re a monster.”
“All kings are monsters,” he grinned. “Zhu Houcong, for example, was the twelfth emperor of the Ming dynasty. He basically seized the throne, even though his family had no imperial lineage. In 1524, he jailed or executed his opponents. Above all things, he desired the legendary elixir of eternal life.”
I was only half-listening, scanning the room for an advantage. Far away I could hear footsteps pounding up the palace stairs. Allies, or more enemies?
