Chapter 29: 29
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The flowers in the gardens bloom bright and cold under the dull light that is fading in from the dense fog of clouds as I lean sit on the edge of the fountain, staring defeatedly into the water. Three days. It had already been that long. I only have a month to find the flame and three days… I counted out on my fingers the days until Soren has to choose a mate: the rise of the next full moon. A tenth. A tenth of my time had gone. I sigh, folding into myself, moving to push away the light fabrics of my blue silver dress that drapes down my body in torrents of fabric like a waterfall. It is a light and breezy garment, not showy enough to reveal little more than the white expanse of my collar bone, comfortable enough to walk down the halls at a moderate pace without tripping. Or to run away from vampires, if it ever came to that. I have had a few close encounters over the last few days, but none which had come anywhere near to the level of danger that I had experienced with Prince Soren.
Sighing I unbuckle my sword from my gold and silver belt, the silver gleaming dull from days without polish and without use. Elris would be so disappointed if he knew. I dip the tip into the water, using the hem of my dress to wipe away the grime and dust that had settled on its length, then moved to polish off the solid round ruby at the centre of the hilt, working at it until my hands ache and the little stone shines brighter. Better. A shadow looms over me, darkening the gleam of my sword and the twinkle of a water in the fountain. I grow cold.
"Finally given up on your search for Soren?" A cold voice asks. My body goes rigid. A female voice, not the gruff male voice I was expecting, but a female, as bright and cold as the icy water in which I had dipped my sword. I jerk my head upwards, shielding my eyes from the light peeking through the vast expanse of wispy clouds.
"Why do you care?" I spit recklessly, narrowing my eyes at the tall, slender figure before me, my vision straining against the glare from the sun. I make out pale skin, so pale it seems blue, two studded horns jutting stark against the deep azure hair, and long painted nails which grip the hem of a crimson patterned kimono. My eyes trace the floral while and yellow patterns that dance round the fabric, drinking in the richness of the colour against the pale of her skin. It is the vampire I saw when I arrived, looking as arrogant as ever. My mind flashes quickly to the possibility she probably wants trouble, considering she is asking about Soren.
"You are talking to a high lady," the pale skinned vampire hisses, jabbing my leg with her foot. I recoil slightly from the pain, but try my best to keep my face neutral, to give her no sign of any weakness. Over the past three days, I have found it to be the tactic most effective for dealing with vampires- if you could even call that 'dealing with them'. "Know your place, little mortal elf, I could kill you if you mess me around." Her words echo Soren's delightfully, yet unlike Soren, her voice is full of contempt, and bitter with a dangerous undertone that I might only call jealousy.
Ah, so that's why she is here.
I play with wisps of fire on my fingers nonchalantly, flicking my eyes back up to her, then back down once again to the flame, bored.
"So you are jealous, then. You want to be his mate," I say, moving to stand now as I buckle the sword to my belt again with a swift snap, not bothering to draw it on her, or even bothering to spare her another glance. It would probably be unwise to draw a sword so quickly, to make myself a threat so easily- despite how much of a pain she is being. In a palace full of vampires, I need as little enemies as possible. Besides, in the palace, I am under protection. She would not kill me here. Hurt me, perhaps, but not kill. Her pale blue skin blushes a pretty pink- probably blood still in her system from her last feeding, and she takes a step back, shocked at my openness. Good. I think.
"I never said that," she spits, but I can tell from the frantic look in her eye I hit a nerve. "All I am saying is that Soren doesn't care about you, you are just a puny elf, he probably is just keeping you around for his next meal. So whatever you think you have over him, forget it."
"Okay, whatever you say, high lady vampire," I mutter, rolling my eyes as I make to leave. I couldn't care less to sit around and listen to some well rehearsed spiel about how Soren doesn't give a damn about anyone or anything and is using me for my blood- he is a vampire, that's what vampires do. Nor am I particularly interested in the notion of having a 'romantic rival' considering I don't even like Soren in the first place.
"My name is Mikhail," she hisses, as if I should somehow know, bristling as she draws herself upright, her long slender figure towering over mine. She moves a spindly hand to grip my shoulder, nails digging harshly into my flesh. Despite her looks, her grip is by no means delicate. I glare up into her shiny ruby eyes, flames sparking involuntarily at my clenching fingertips, crackling as they fizzle out into the air. Her hand remains tight on my shoulder. My expression darkens.
"Look, Mikhail, if you want to go after Soren, that's fine by me. I don't care. But I have better things to do than talk to a jealous vampire, so if you will excuse me, I am going to take my leave." I say coldly, moving to shake her off me. Mikhail glances down at the shiny silver weapon at my waist, debating her options with a stony expression. Something twitches on her mouth. She stares blandly, her gaze still, but I can tell underneath her mind is working at one hundred miles an hour, racing behind her eyes like a wolf through the woods. Slowly, she removes her hand. The sky darkens around us, wind roaring up into heavy blusters that buffet my sides- perhaps her doing. I brace myself against the cold, against her, silently relieved to have the weight of her hand off me. She tilts her head, pursing her lips her hair wreathing like snakes in the wind, circling round her head while somehow maintaining that ethereal beauty and grace she carried the first time I saw her. The vampire's eyes train on me as she watches me walk off in the direction of the throne room, cheeks swallowed with hatred, or disapproval. I almost don't hear when she calls back to me.
"There are things you don't know about him that would scare even your heart out of your little chest, elf. Don't think because he snapped his brother's neck for you it means anything. Soren does what he wants, when he wants, you would be better leaving him alone. Unless you want to be next."
The words run through me cold and hard, eliciting a shudder quivering down from the nape of my neck right to the base of my spine. I freeze. That white haired vampire was his brother? For a long moment, I stare blankly at the ground, not even registering the rain that has begun to patter down onto my face, or the cascade of rose petals, red and black and purple, that flicker about my ankles and catch on the hem of my dress. My mind spins.
He snapped his own brother's neck.
He snapped it, and he didn't even care. Snapped it to stop his brother getting his hands on me. Snapped it to prevent me from getting killed. My body grows cold.
When I look back for the pale blue vampire, all that's left is the gentle trickle of the fountain, and the faint pitter patter of rain upon damp soil. The gardens are empty, the sky an impenetrable wall of dark clouds that loom with an ominous foreboding. I tip my head up to the rain, letting it soak steadily into my skin, uncaring for the dress of the delicately woven horns of my hair that Ithuriel went to such pain to create.
Soren snapped his own brother's neck to save my life.
Part of me is not sure whether that makes him better or so, so much worse.
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The flowers in the gardens bloom bright and cold under the dull light that is fading in from the dense fog of clouds as I lean sit on the edge of the fountain, staring defeatedly into the water. Three days. It had already been that long. I only have a month to find the flame and three days… I counted out on my fingers the days until Soren has to choose a mate: the rise of the next full moon. A tenth. A tenth of my time had gone. I sigh, folding into myself, moving to push away the light fabrics of my blue silver dress that drapes down my body in torrents of fabric like a waterfall. It is a light and breezy garment, not showy enough to reveal little more than the white expanse of my collar bone, comfortable enough to walk down the halls at a moderate pace without tripping. Or to run away from vampires, if it ever came to that. I have had a few close encounters over the last few days, but none which had come anywhere near to the level of danger that I had experienced with Prince Soren.
Sighing I unbuckle my sword from my gold and silver belt, the silver gleaming dull from days without polish and without use. Elris would be so disappointed if he knew. I dip the tip into the water, using the hem of my dress to wipe away the grime and dust that had settled on its length, then moved to polish off the solid round ruby at the centre of the hilt, working at it until my hands ache and the little stone shines brighter. Better. A shadow looms over me, darkening the gleam of my sword and the twinkle of a water in the fountain. I grow cold.
"Finally given up on your search for Soren?" A cold voice asks. My body goes rigid. A female voice, not the gruff male voice I was expecting, but a female, as bright and cold as the icy water in which I had dipped my sword. I jerk my head upwards, shielding my eyes from the light peeking through the vast expanse of wispy clouds.
"Why do you care?" I spit recklessly, narrowing my eyes at the tall, slender figure before me, my vision straining against the glare from the sun. I make out pale skin, so pale it seems blue, two studded horns jutting stark against the deep azure hair, and long painted nails which grip the hem of a crimson patterned kimono. My eyes trace the floral while and yellow patterns that dance round the fabric, drinking in the richness of the colour against the pale of her skin. It is the vampire I saw when I arrived, looking as arrogant as ever. My mind flashes quickly to the possibility she probably wants trouble, considering she is asking about Soren.
"You are talking to a high lady," the pale skinned vampire hisses, jabbing my leg with her foot. I recoil slightly from the pain, but try my best to keep my face neutral, to give her no sign of any weakness. Over the past three days, I have found it to be the tactic most effective for dealing with vampires- if you could even call that 'dealing with them'. "Know your place, little mortal elf, I could kill you if you mess me around." Her words echo Soren's delightfully, yet unlike Soren, her voice is full of contempt, and bitter with a dangerous undertone that I might only call jealousy.
Ah, so that's why she is here.
I play with wisps of fire on my fingers nonchalantly, flicking my eyes back up to her, then back down once again to the flame, bored.
"So you are jealous, then. You want to be his mate," I say, moving to stand now as I buckle the sword to my belt again with a swift snap, not bothering to draw it on her, or even bothering to spare her another glance. It would probably be unwise to draw a sword so quickly, to make myself a threat so easily- despite how much of a pain she is being. In a palace full of vampires, I need as little enemies as possible. Besides, in the palace, I am under protection. She would not kill me here. Hurt me, perhaps, but not kill. Her pale blue skin blushes a pretty pink- probably blood still in her system from her last feeding, and she takes a step back, shocked at my openness. Good. I think.
"I never said that," she spits, but I can tell from the frantic look in her eye I hit a nerve. "All I am saying is that Soren doesn't care about you, you are just a puny elf, he probably is just keeping you around for his next meal. So whatever you think you have over him, forget it."
"Okay, whatever you say, high lady vampire," I mutter, rolling my eyes as I make to leave. I couldn't care less to sit around and listen to some well rehearsed spiel about how Soren doesn't give a damn about anyone or anything and is using me for my blood- he is a vampire, that's what vampires do. Nor am I particularly interested in the notion of having a 'romantic rival' considering I don't even like Soren in the first place.
"My name is Mikhail," she hisses, as if I should somehow know, bristling as she draws herself upright, her long slender figure towering over mine. She moves a spindly hand to grip my shoulder, nails digging harshly into my flesh. Despite her looks, her grip is by no means delicate. I glare up into her shiny ruby eyes, flames sparking involuntarily at my clenching fingertips, crackling as they fizzle out into the air. Her hand remains tight on my shoulder. My expression darkens.
"Look, Mikhail, if you want to go after Soren, that's fine by me. I don't care. But I have better things to do than talk to a jealous vampire, so if you will excuse me, I am going to take my leave." I say coldly, moving to shake her off me. Mikhail glances down at the shiny silver weapon at my waist, debating her options with a stony expression. Something twitches on her mouth. She stares blandly, her gaze still, but I can tell underneath her mind is working at one hundred miles an hour, racing behind her eyes like a wolf through the woods. Slowly, she removes her hand. The sky darkens around us, wind roaring up into heavy blusters that buffet my sides- perhaps her doing. I brace myself against the cold, against her, silently relieved to have the weight of her hand off me. She tilts her head, pursing her lips her hair wreathing like snakes in the wind, circling round her head while somehow maintaining that ethereal beauty and grace she carried the first time I saw her. The vampire's eyes train on me as she watches me walk off in the direction of the throne room, cheeks swallowed with hatred, or disapproval. I almost don't hear when she calls back to me.
"There are things you don't know about him that would scare even your heart out of your little chest, elf. Don't think because he snapped his brother's neck for you it means anything. Soren does what he wants, when he wants, you would be better leaving him alone. Unless you want to be next."
The words run through me cold and hard, eliciting a shudder quivering down from the nape of my neck right to the base of my spine. I freeze. That white haired vampire was his brother? For a long moment, I stare blankly at the ground, not even registering the rain that has begun to patter down onto my face, or the cascade of rose petals, red and black and purple, that flicker about my ankles and catch on the hem of my dress. My mind spins.
He snapped his own brother's neck.
He snapped it, and he didn't even care. Snapped it to stop his brother getting his hands on me. Snapped it to prevent me from getting killed. My body grows cold.
When I look back for the pale blue vampire, all that's left is the gentle trickle of the fountain, and the faint pitter patter of rain upon damp soil. The gardens are empty, the sky an impenetrable wall of dark clouds that loom with an ominous foreboding. I tip my head up to the rain, letting it soak steadily into my skin, uncaring for the dress of the delicately woven horns of my hair that Ithuriel went to such pain to create.
Soren snapped his own brother's neck to save my life.
Part of me is not sure whether that makes him better or so, so much worse.
The flowers in the gardens bloom bright and cold under the dull light that is fading in from the dense fog of clouds as I lean sit on the edge of the fountain, staring defeatedly into the water. Three days. It had already been that long. I only have a month to find the flame and three days I counted out on my fingers the days until Soren has to choose a mate: the rise of the next full moon. A tenth. A tenth of my time had gone. I sigh, folding into myself, moving to push away the light fabrics of my blue silver dress that drapes down my body in torrents of fabric like a waterfall. It is a light and breezy garment, not showy enough to reveal little more than the white expanse of my collar bone, comfortable enough to walk down the halls at a moderate pace without tripping. Or to run away from vampires, if it ever came to that. I have had a few close encounters over the last few days, but none which had come anywhere near to the level of danger that I had experienced with Prince Soren. Sighing I unbuckle my sword from my gold and silver belt, the silver gleaming dull from days without polish and without use. Elris would be so disappointed if he knew. I dip the tip into the water, using the hem of my dress to wipe away the grime and dust that had settled on its length, then moved to polish off the solid round ruby at the centre of the hilt, working at it until my hands ache and the little stone shines brighter. Better. A shadow looms over me, darkening the gleam of my sword and the twinkle of a water in the fountain. I grow cold. "Finally given up on your search for Soren?" A cold voice asks. My body goes rigid. A female voice, not the gruff male voice I was expecting, but a female, as bright and cold as the icy water in which I had dipped my sword. I jerk my head upwards, shielding my eyes from the light peeking through the vast expanse of wispy clouds. "Why do you care?" I spit recklessly, narrowing my eyes at the tall, slender figure before me, my vision straining against the glare from the sun. I make out pale skin, so pale it seems blue, two studded horns jutting stark against the deep azure hair, and long painted nails which grip the hem of a crimson patterned kimono. My eyes trace the floral while and yellow patterns that dance round the fabric, drinking in the richness of the colour against the pale of her skin. It is the vampire I saw when I arrived, looking as arrogant as ever. My mind flashes quickly to the possibility she probably wants trouble, considering she is asking about Soren. "You are talking to a high lady," the pale skinned vampire hisses, jabbing my leg with her foot. I recoil slightly from the pain, but try my best to keep my face neutral, to give her no sign of any weakness. Over the past three days, I have found it to be the tactic most effective for dealing with vampires- if you could even call that 'dealing with them'. "Know your place, little mortal elf, I could kill you if you mess me around." Her words echo Soren's delightfully, yet unlike Soren, her voice is full of contempt, and bitter with a dangerous undertone that I might only call jealousy. Ah, so that's why she is here. I play with wisps of fire on my fingers nonchalantly, flicking my eyes back up to her, then back down once again to the flame, bored. "So you are jealous, then. You want to be his mate," I say, moving to stand now as I buckle the sword to my belt again with a swift snap, not bothering to draw it on her, or even bothering to spare her another glance. It would probably be unwise to draw a sword so quickly, to make myself a threat so easily- despite how much of a pain she is being. In a palace full of vampires, I need as little enemies as possible. Besides, in the palace, I am under protection. She would not kill me here. Hurt me, perhaps, but not kill. Her pale blue skin blushes a pretty pink- probably blood still in her system from her last feeding, and she takes a step back, shocked at my openness. Good. I think. "I never said that," she spits, but I can tell from the frantic look in her eye I hit a nerve. "All I am saying is that Soren doesn't care about you, you are just a puny elf, he probably is just keeping you around for his next meal. So whatever you think you have over him, forget it." "Okay, whatever you say, high lady vampire," I mutter, rolling my eyes as I make to leave. I couldn't care less to sit around and listen to some well rehearsed spiel about how Soren doesn't give a damn about anyone or anything and is using me for my blood- he is a vampire, that's what vampires do. Nor am I particularly interested in the notion of having a 'romantic rival' considering I don't even like Soren in the first place. "My name is Mikhail," she hisses, as if I should somehow know, bristling as she draws herself upright, her long slender figure towering over mine. She moves a spindly hand to grip my shoulder, nails digging harshly into my flesh. Despite her looks, her grip is by no means delicate. I glare up into her shiny ruby eyes, flames sparking involuntarily at my clenching fingertips, crackling as they fizzle out into the air. Her hand remains tight on my shoulder. My expression darkens. "Look, Mikhail, if you want to go after Soren, that's fine by me. I don't care. But I have better things to do than talk to a jealous vampire, so if you will excuse me, I am going to take my leave." I say coldly, moving to shake her off me. Mikhail glances down at the shiny silver weapon at my waist, debating her options with a stony expression. Something twitches on her mouth. She stares blandly, her gaze still, but I can tell underneath her mind is working at one hundred miles an hour, racing behind her eyes like a wolf through the woods. Slowly, she removes her hand. The sky darkens around us, wind roaring up into heavy blusters that buffet my sides- perhaps her doing. I brace myself against the cold, against her, silently relieved to have the weight of her hand off me. She tilts her head, pursing her lips her hair wreathing like snakes in the wind, circling round her head while somehow maintaining that ethereal beauty and grace she carried the first time I saw her. The vampire's eyes train on me as she watches me walk off in the direction of the throne room, cheeks swallowed with hatred, or disapproval. I almost don't hear when she calls back to me. "There are things you don't know about him that would scare even your heart out of your little chest, elf. Don't think because he snapped his brother's neck for you it means anything. Soren does what he wants, when he wants, you would be better leaving him alone. Unless you want to be next." The words run through me cold and hard, eliciting a shudder quivering down from the nape of my neck right to the base of my spine. I freeze. That white haired vampire was his brother? For a long moment, I stare blankly at the ground, not even registering the rain that has begun to patter down onto my face, or the cascade of rose petals, red and black and purple, that flicker about my ankles and catch on the hem of my dress. My mind spins. He snapped his own brother's neck. He snapped it, and he didn't even care. Snapped it to stop his brother getting his hands on me. Snapped it to prevent me from getting killed. My body grows cold. When I look back for the pale blue vampire, all that's left is the gentle trickle of the fountain, and the faint pitter patter of rain upon damp soil. The gardens are empty, the sky an impenetrable wall of dark clouds that loom with an ominous foreboding. I tip my head up to the rain, letting it soak steadily into my skin, uncaring for the dress of the delicately woven horns of my hair that Ithuriel went to such pain to create. Soren snapped his own brother's neck to save my life. Part of me is not sure whether that makes him better or so, so much worse.
