I block their first double attack, spinning on the spot, delivering hits left and right. On the second charge, Mayri slices me open across my ribs, then slashes down my chest. But I do not falter. I cannot waver.
Like a roaring thunder, I crouch low on the ground, holding my bloodied chest with a shaking hand. I smear the blood on my leather pants and kick Mayri’s knees backward with a crunching snap. Before I can surge back up, my shadow self rains down vengeance in a blurred mist, slashing through Lukha’s neck mid-motion. His head tumbles through the air like a rock thrown on a lake’s surface, skidding to a halt several feet away.
Mayri wails, crawling on his forearms backwards to the onpyr corpse, until my shadow double shuts him up with a final, barbaric blow.
Two heartbeats of silence pass. I poise myself for attack, ready to jump on the last assailant. And then, he’s gone. Fucking vanishes into the night like a chimera.
I spin, scanning the darkness, my chest heaving, the slash against my ribs stinging with every inhale. The threat is gone, and I take in a battered breath.
Aimee still lies slumped against the wall, her face so serene, so still, it makes my heart bleed. I run to her, and check franticallyfor her pulse. She’s still alive, thank Akaori! My little umbra is a fighter, and my heart swells in gratitude that I did not lose her.
I gather her gingerly into my arms, pushing down the cobbled street for support. I need to get her to the castle healers immediately.
Behind me, footsteps slap noisily on the cobblestones.
Vampires emerge from the nearby houses, pouring down the alley with daggers clutched in their hands, barefoot and frantic. They rose from their bloodwine-induced slumber, stirred by the commotion, by the violent battle cries echoing through the empty streets.
“King Killian,” one breathes in alarm. “We heard the scuffle. What occurred here?”
“Onpyr scouts,” I hiss. “They must have slipped unnoticed during our battle in Dithrau. Crossed the Gorgnome Pass, and who knows for how long they’ve been waiting here in the shadows. Gathering intel. One escaped.”
I turn to the nearest vampire, a warrior that recently joined Blaise’s ranks. My voice is cold as steel as I command.
“Mattya, find Blaise. He must be sleeping off his drunken stupor between the thighs of a willing female, deep within the Plaisir District. Tell him his spies have fallen. Lost to Morweena’s will. Beheaded with my daggers. Tell him to hunt the escapee before he reaches his mistress.”
He nods once and runs off into the night.
With my little umbra gently gathered into my arms, I stride purposefully towards the tunnels, towards Sangeries.
I run through the castle at blinding speed, shouting orders at the wide-eyed servants.
“Bring the healers to my bedchambers. NOW!”
I boom through my bedroom door, the chamber a temple of shadows and overindulgence.
Darkness pools in every crack and edge, interrupted only by the flickering radiance of a flame that burns low in a hearth sculpted with snarling vampiric beasts.
I move towards the bed, wide and draped in cascading black fabric. I place Aimee’s sleeping form against the obsidian silk sheets, my fingertips grazing her clammy skin. A trickle of dried blood stains her temple, and I shudder at the thought of losing her. I have just found her, the absent piece of myself that I wasn’t even aware was missing. I cannot stand facing the rest of my eternity without her. If Akaori finally found me worthy of such a creature, I will not lay waste to her blessing.
“Where are those blasted healers?” I ground out through clenched teeth. Someone is going to lose a head, and several limbs, if they don’t arrive here sooner. Her heady scent envelops me like a caress, blending in with that of old parchment, blood, and incense. She smells of peonies, of summer rain and laughter, and the intoxicating aroma has weakened my knees since the very first moment I met her.
Right when I’m about to march out and murder the first fool I lay my eyes upon, the door opens and two healers enter.
“My King, you’re injured!” the female says, moving to reach me.
“I’ll survive, Esmera. Heal her! She has taken a nasty blow to her head. Her breathing is even, but she won’t wake up,” I say agitatedly. My wound is already stitching itself up, all on its own, the pain a distant memory. It’s one perk of being what I am. Nothing can kill me anymore. Except for the fragile Fae female slumped on my bed.
The healers work in silence, inspecting the wound, cleaning it with herbal remedies, and pouring their palliative magic into Aimee. The color has returned to her cheeks, and she looks more than ever like a sleeping beauty.
“She’ll be fine, my King,” Esmera says as they prepare to leave the room. “She won’t even have a headache when she awakens.”
I grumble in response as I watch them see themselves out.
I won’t leave her side until she wakes up, and she pushes me out, once again. I close my eyes, groaning, remembering our almost-shared kiss. How her breath had hitched. How her eyes had closed in sweet surrender. Oh, how I wish that our moment hadn’t ended so abruptly. Will she awaken in the same fortuitous mood, or will she revert to her usual stone-faced demeanor?
My shadows creep towards the bed, the red mist swaddling her like an ethereal blanket. They have even less self-control around her than I do. At least the misty bastards get to touch her more often, to feel her warm skin, her silky smooth mane. She seems to accept my shadow’s touch much more easily than my own. Whether or not she realizes it, I do not know.
A sigh escapes my lips as I unbutton my ruined shirt. I need to wash away all the blood and gore—to purify myself in cleansing water. I stride towards the clawfoot tub that stands beside the towering, vaulted windows—where the night tumbles in like liquid ebony.
