No, Solos had the upper hand on Tersius. He had bested the hunter. The only way Tersius escaped was by assuming his raven form. And Tersius seemed to think that the curse might have been placed on the vampir because of him. I believe he thought Solos had made it back to Midscape.
So I’m led to think that Solos’s body was never found. I laugh to myself as I stare into the abyss before me. Tersius was hunting for the king that defeated him, the one that had eluded him, the one he thought was constantly pulling the strings, extending his life unnaturally just as Tersius was. Maybe he even thought Solos was behind the curse himself.
But what Tersius didn’t know was that even though Solos was gone long ago, he never really left.
I start down the stairs and arrive in a basement. There’s not much; whatever was stored here has long since rotted or turned to dust. The walls are thick with algae and moss. The swamp is determined to consume this place. Thank goodness it has lasted long enough for me to find it.
In the corner is the withered and mummified remains of the once great king.
The last of the true line of Vampir Kings. A man who fell in love with a human and knew his people weren’t ready to accept his chosen bride. A man who tried to honor her as best he knew how, for good or ill. Who tried to write her into the history by hiding in plain sight. I wonder what he would think of a human as the one to uncover the truth.
He might have preferred it this way.
I walk over to the remains of King Solos. He doesn’t look anything like the man in my dreams. His long, moonlit hair has vanished. His lips are curled away from his fangs, still pearly even after all this time.
Stabbed through his chest is a dagger.
A misplaced curse created by a broken heart.
“A curse of vengeance, a curse wrought in blood for blood,” I echo his words.
He had intended to curse Tersius. He had wanted to cut the man down. To curse his blood for spilling the blood of his beloved.
But what Solos had failed to consider was that Tersius had turned himself into a vampir. Even though he was different from the rest. He had still become a vampir.
So when Solos had lain a curse on Tersius’s blood…he had lain a curse on his own people, too, on the blood ofallthe vampir. The curse was finalized in this place. Paid for with Solos’s life. The memories didn’t show me the terms, but I can suspect what they were.
A curse of withering. A curse of death. A curse from which there was no escaping, not ever.
And no one did. Not even Tersius, in the end. And not Solos’s own people.
I take the king’s mummified hand and hold it in both my own. “It’s all right,” I murmur. “It’s time to let this go.”
I slowly release his hand and grab the dagger stabbed through his chest. The moment my fingers touch the metal, a jolt surges through me. I shudder. Coldness sets into my body. This is an item of great magic. An item marked with blood.
Thisis the curse anchor.
I wrench the dagger from his chest. A popping sound crackles behind my ears. I stare at the weapon in my palm, not so unlike the one I crafted. I wonder if, in her own way, Loretta was guiding me in the smithy those nights. If blood is a marker, I’ve written her life, her brother’s, her love’s onto my own. I will carry them with me into eternity. I will keep their memories for however long I have left.
I get back to the castle, but I’m not sure how. My head is in a daze. Perhaps I’m overwhelmed by everything that’s happened. Or perhaps it is the deep magic that is seeped into the blade I carry that’s blurring my awareness.
Before I know it, I’m in the main hall. All eyes are on me as I descend the stairs, ancient dagger in hand.
“Floriane?” Winny asks. They’re still around the table as if nothing has happened, even though the entire world has changed.
“I need you to do something,” I say, pausing at the hallway that leads down to the smithy. “It’s going to require all four of you.”
“All four of us?” Callos is surprised; he’s not used to being sent out.
“Yes, I want you all to see it,” I say cryptically. They need to discover things on their own. I’ve already taken the dagger from Solos’s body, but they’ll piece together the important parts: there’s still the hole in his mummified chest that I took it from. A vampir must be the one who passes on the truth. As much as I want to do it, it has to be one of them. Because I will never be believed. Solos knew it, as did Jontun, even Loretta.
The people who are frozen in time are only a generation and a half away from King Solos. They’re still the direct descendants of vampir who couldn’t even fathom their king taking a human as a lover. Ruvan will have a hard enough time convincing them to accept my role in all this as it is.
“See what?” Ventos asks.
“The truth. Go to the ruins where we trapped Tersius. You’ll find a cellar door there; I left it open. Go into the depths, find the truth.”
“I’m not really a fan of all this dodging,” Lavenzia mutters.
