Henri
You were pushing yourself too hard. Rising before dawn to run the hills, practicing swordplay with Anika until lunch, lifting weights in the afternoon and then sparring with whomever would take you on until dusk. Interspersed were trips to the archery ranges and lessons on firearms from the warborn guardians. You’d resolved to learn every weapon and fighting technique available to you in an attempt to impress the tribes when they arrived.
Meanwhile, Lucian was busy hiring and training staff, taking inventory, and preparing Lena’s palace rooms so that we might accommodate the other tribes at the standard to which they were accustomed. Stefan dined on our decadent food and drank our wine, amused himself with the pool, tennis courts, bathhouse, and host of masseurs that had been brought in to service the tribes. And Lena gave orders.
Among the many squabbles and negotiations, usually carried on during mealtimes when we convened, there was one serious dispute, and it happened over breakfast the day before the Grigori and their entourages were scheduled to arrive. It was in regard to the ritual of human sacrifice, typically performed during the night of the First Feast, a custom to which you were vehemently opposed.
“We are not murdering innocent people,” you roared with a passion that erupted, volcanic-like, from your core. Standing at the head of the table, you white-knuckled the wood while Lena stared up at you with cool impassivity. The rest of us watched the exchange like a sporting event.
“The Grigori will see it as yet another weakness,” Lena warned, though without her usual vehemence. I’d noticed, as of late, her tendency to defer to you. Was it only an attempt at manipulation?
“I don’t care what they think,” you said, a lie. That fear had consumed you for the past several weeks, had driven you to distraction.
“But perhaps you should,” Lena said, opting not to challenge you directly.
Of course, I was on your side—the tribes were wanton, especially when it came to availing themselves of human bodies—but every time I was tempted to interfere on your behalf, I refrained. I’d not undermine your authority in front of Lena.
You took a deep, calming breath before continuing. “Let me be clear on this point right now. In this revolution, we will do everything we can to spare human life. We’re not going to enslave them or drain them or make them our puppets to do our dirty work. If they serve us, they do so willingly and with eyes wide open. And I expect your support on this, Mater. You need to work to repair your reputation and demonstrate to the other tribes that the bloodborn have some semblance of discipline and self-control.”
Your arguments had merit, and even Lena seemed to consider it.
“I fear you’re making a grave mistake in your attempts to be benevolent, my son.” Lena paused and weighed your expression to see if your conviction might dim. It did not. “But we’ll try it your way.”
You eyed her and said in a warning tone, “I’m not compromising on this one.”
“As it pleases you, my prince.” Lena lowered her eyes in acquiescence, her subservient tone just shy of convincing.
You then announced you were late for training and turned on your heel, leaving your breakfast unfinished. Anika followed, silent as a shadow. Lately, you and the assassin had been practicing your swordplay in closed quarters where onlookers couldn’t observe. Did I feel excluded? A little. But instead of following you, I haunted the halls of Lena’s palazzo, listening in on her negotiations with Lucian for any signs of duplicity, but their conversations were dull and mostly centered around the details of décor and accommodations once the tribes arrived.
I didn’t see you again until much later in the afternoon when we met at the training yard for a grappling lesson. At your request, servants had brought in mats and laid them on the hard-packed clay. In addition to becoming an expert swordsman and sniper, you were aiming to master the art of wrestling as well.
“You should take the rest of the day off,” I said as you began stripping to your gym shorts in preparation for our match. There were cuts and bruises all over your body, visible even with your darker skin tone.
“The tribes will be here tomorrow. I can’t afford to take any time off.”
“No one expects you to master every discipline of combat.”
“The warborn will expect it. Anika’s six months younger than me and lightyears ahead.”
“It’s not a competition, Vincent.”
“Yes, it is. And I have a lot to prove. I don’t want to appear weak or stupid in front of the tribes.”
“You are neither of those things,” I assured you.
“But that’s what they’ll assume. Admit it, Henri.”
I couldn’t argue your point. Despite your maturity, you were still only a drop of water in the well of time that spanned the Grigori’s existence.
“Let’s go.” You smacked your hands aggressively. These lessons were meant to help your maneuverability in close-range combat and teach you how to break an attacker’s hold. Mean and scrappy as you were, you didn’t have the mass to take on a serious competitor and win.
We circled each other. You bounced lightly on your feet with your arms outstretched. I lunged a few times as if to grab you, testing your reflexes, and you dodged every attack. You advanced then and grappled the backs of my knees, using the momentum of your hips and chest to try and knock me off balance. I leaned back a little so that you might not be too disheartened, then countered with a chokehold, depressing your carotid artery with the blade of my wrist for the briefest moment before releasing you.
“You didn’t even budge,” you complained. Your face was flushed, from my grip or frustration, and it roused me in a different way.
“I have a very good center of gravity.”
“Youaregravity,” you grumbled and advanced again, this time grabbing my waist and hooking a foot around my ankle in an attempt to trip me. I spread my stance and countered with a sprawl, slowly dragging you down to the mat, mindful not to crush you under my weight. With the near hundred pounds I had on you, it really wasn’t a fair fight. You writhed in my embrace, twisting like a serpent, until I released you.
