Blood Redemption (10 page)

She had known Saber would attack and kill their mutual enemy if given half a chance;
and her gamble had paid off. Later, when he ran into the Silivasi brothers along with
Jocelyn, in the meadow, he had made his own calculated decision—to stop the war for
the night, forestall another bloody battle, and live to fight another day. It hadn’t
been as compassionate as it seemed; but truth be told, he had owed the brave woman—Jocelyn—that
much. How had she put it?
The enemy of my enemy is my friend
. And while that was hardly the case, even in that meadow, Saber had felt a modicum
of respect for the brave female.

A fleeting, retractable regard.

And that was all.

Saber could not have agreed with Lorna less: He walked away from the Silivasi brothers
after the Lycan attack because he was tired of fighting; the Dark Ones had dead to
gather; and they could always resume another day. Furthermore, he had let Princess
Vanya live the night before because he needed her in order to survive. Point blank.
Simple. Rational. Strategic decisions.

He measured his next words carefully—he had to be cautious. This woman, with all her
desperation, need, and Pollyanna psychology, could confuse him if he let her.
Lorna
, he said, to regain her attention.
The point is
:
I need you to do something
special…unique
…
affectionate
for the princess
,
something that
symbolically
comes from me
, at least in theory
. Something that says,
‘
I’m sorry
.
’
I need you to convince her to talk with me, sit with me, perhaps go for an escorted
walk with me—a
fter sunset
, if you don’t mind
.
He was careful to emphasize the time of day, not that the warriors would ever let
him out of that tiny cell, but just in case, he did not ever, under any circumstances,
want to feel or see the sunlight again.
I need you to convince her to give me a
second
chance.

Lorna placed her hand over her mouth, thinking.
I can do that
, she finally said. And then she regarded him circumspectly.
However, I
will not lie for you, Sabin
o
—Saber
.
So, whatever
else you do,
you must
sincerely
mean this apology.

He nodded slyly.
I do.

She looked at him cross-wise through the corner of her eye but pressed on.
Maybe. Maybe not
. And then she splayed her fingers on his knee and increased the pressure.
Just the same, I am asking you—I am not telling you
like a superior
; I am not threatening you
like an enemy
;
and
I am not
begging you like a subordinate
—I
am simply asking
you
as
the woman who gave you life
: D
o
not hurt this princess, Saber.
If I do this for you, do not dishonor
her
.
Give me your word.

Saber didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or break free from his chains and try to
put the poor, misguided creature out of her misery. Do not dishonor the princess?
Do not lie? Do not hurt anyone? Give her his
word
.

As if!

Dear Valley of Shadows; she really did think she was speaking to a male from the house
of Jadon. Why couldn’t anyone comprehend the depth of his depravity, the cellular
makeup of his so-called soul?

Eight hundred years in darkness.

Just as many years serving the dark lords of the Abyss…willingly.

He looked at Lorna, and for the briefest moment, he almost wished he were something
else,
someone else
, that she still had the son she obviously wanted and believed in so desperately.

Because this was beyond sad.

This was epically tragic.

Lorn
a
, do
this thing for me and y
ou have my word
.

He never even broke a sweat.

Vanya Demir glanced up at the spectacular domed ceiling in Napolean’s private rectory
and marveled at the artistry that never failed to amaze her: the hand-painted mural
of Zeus and Apollo. Remembering where she was, and why she was there, she looked back
down, shook her head in utter exasperation, and tried to push through her fatigue.
They had been going back and forth in Napolean’s living room for hours—her, Marquis,
Ciopori, Brooke, Napolean, and Ramsey—Nathaniel Silivasi was filling in for the lead
sentinel at the guard station with Saxson or Santos, whoever was working the current
shift.

The way she understood it, the king had received a missive from the house of Jaegar
earlier that day, carried on the wings of a beautiful falcon, and the missive had
been arrogant and to the point, dated
Tuesday,
t
he second day of March
.

To
:
His Grace, Napolean Mondragon, Rul
er of the house of Jadon

From
:
His
Excellence
, Oskar Vadovsky, Chief of
Council for the house of Jaegar

Purpose:
To r
equest a meeting o
f delegat
es
in the Red Canyons

Time: T
omorrow
—W
ednesday, the third day of March
at e
leven PM.

Dear Sir, i
t has come to our attention that there is a matter of some delicacy between our houses
. O
ne of your ranks has infiltrated our colony for eight
hundred years, and has now been returned to his rightful
home.
While
this imposter
is no longer our concern
,
our
High Court
has convicted his father, Damien Alexiares, of treason
; and
the
traitor
is to be
executed at five AM,
Thursday
morning
, the fourth day of March
. His brothers have yet to stand trial.

It would appear that Damien’s
last dying wish is to speak with his
unlawful
son.
In addition, Saber’s brother, Dane, would like one last chance to
speak
with his
illegitimate
brother.
To that end, w
e
are offering a limited truce in order to conduct this matter in peace. The house
of Jaegar will provide a
delegation
of
one soldier, both family
members, and
one sorcerer,
accompanied by
our High Chief of Council; and we would request an equal delegation of five
members from the house of Jadon, including yourself and Saber
,
of course, to
join us
.
We feel this is a fair and manageable number of participants.

Please be advised that we do not wish to wage war,
nor will we make any strategic moves against
you,
our enemies.
On this matter, you have
our
word.

If this request meets
with
your approval, we will see you t
omorrow
night in the Red Canyons. Should you decline our
benevolent
offer, then we will assume that
you have no interest in allowing Saber this one last indulgence,
and Damien will be summarily executed along with his rema
ining offspring: Dane and Diablo
.

Sincerely, the house of Jaegar

Marquis Silivasi snorted with derision. “If these hyenas aren’t up to something, then
I’m not an Ancient Master Warrior. I still say to hell with them. Let them execute
Damien, Dane, and Diablo. Three less animals for us to worry about.”

Ramsey Olaru, who had been lounging against the opposite wall with his arms crossed
over his chest, his right knee bent so that his foot rested against the wall, pushed
off from his perch and sauntered over to Marquis’s side. Talking around the thin toothpick
that was lodged between his lips, he nodded. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Marquis.
We shouldn’t do this, milord.”

Ciopori Demir brushed a stray piece of lint off her skirt and slipped her arm through
her mate’s, leaning her head against Marquis’s shoulder as if exhausted by the conversation.
“I, too, agree with Marquis.” She paused as if carefully considering her words. “In
truth, what difference does it make, my king?”

“We will not allow Vanya to bear sons with that animal,” Marquis said in consensus.
“So really, he’s already as good as dead.”

Now this just irritated Vanya—on so many levels.

Shifting ever so slightly in her oversized armchair next to the king’s, she turned
to face the ancient ruler of the house of Jadon. “Perhaps we should all keep in mind
that I am a grown woman, and the ultimate decision still belongs to me.” Despite her
horrific run-in with the hedonistic male, she still could not completely dismiss her
dream—or what it might mean to the people. The idea of a buried treasure being somewhere,
anywhere, inside of or connected to that male continued to niggle at her, giving her
pause. Deciding the life—and death—of another was no easy matter.

Brooke sat on the arm of Napolean’s chair and only spoke sporadically. “I think we
need to listen to Vanya,” she offered.

Marquis scoffed. Turning to catch Vanya’s eyes, he said, “You’re free to decide whatever
you wish, sister. Just so long as it doesn’t include going within five feet of that
overgrown piece of donkey dung. Sorry, that’s just the way it is.”

By the hardened look on Ramsey’s face, Vanya could tell the warriors were in agreement.
She rolled her eyes conspicuously. “Ciopori,” she said glibly, “perhaps you should
check your mate…before he over reaches.”

Ciopori sighed and glanced away, clearly appearing torn. “Marquis,” she whispered.
“Gentle, darling.
Gentle
.”

Napolean cleared his throat, and the room went silent. He fixed his insightful eyes
on Vanya and regarded her carefully, maybe too carefully.
W
hat all was
he
seeing
? she wondered. She just didn’t know, but to his credit, he held his tongue.

And then he frowned.

He sat back in the large, royal blue armchair and intertwined his fingers. “There
are three things I must consider, beyond the obvious concern for Vanya’s safety: First,
Saber’s history in the house of Jaegar, which pertains to his connection to his dark
family and the development of his soul. Second, the impact seeing his father and brother
might have on him, for good or for evil. And third, the logistics involved in such
a meeting, should we choose to go through with it.”

Marquis opened his mouth to speak, and Napolean waved his hand ever so slightly to
silence him. The noble king was not through speaking. “With regard to Saber’s history
with Damien, Dane, and Diablo, this is an intricate matter. For the males in the house
of Jaegar, there is a strong connection, a code of sorts based on loyalty, survival,
and centuries of cohabitation. While the Dark Ones may erroneously call their connections
love
, it is more of an imprinting: Even snakes will bind together in a mating ball to
propel their species forward. Such ties are strong and binding. Saber, however, has
always had a soul.”

Both Ramsey and Marquis growled with disapproval, and Napolean leveled a
cease and desist
gaze at the keyed-up warriors, each one in turn, making it very clear how the hierarchy,
at least in the house of Jadon, still worked. “You will hold your tongues…and your
reactions.”

He didn’t await their reply. Rather, he lowered his head, his eyes flashing the slightest
feral red, and stared pointedly at Vanya. “Whether he knows it or not—whether he
owns
it or not—Saber Alexiares was born with a soul.” He turned his attention to Ramsey.
“That means that he was born with the capacity and potential to love.” Moving his
attention to Marquis, he added, “Whether or not he understands that he possesses this
capacity is not the issue I am wrestling with.” Clearing his throat, he continued:
“After eight hundred years with his dark father and six hundred years with his brothers,
there is a very good chance that what
Saber
feels for them is beyond loyalty, imprinting, and survival. There is a very good
chance that in his own demented way, he loves these males deeply. And when they are
gone, he may grieve just as profoundly as we would, following the loss of one of our
own.” He chewed his lip in concentration, carefully considering his words. “If we
deny him this meeting and his family is executed, they will become martyrs in his
eyes; and he will forever blame the house of Jadon for a pain he does not even comprehend.”
He turned toward Vanya then. “If he is not already lost to us forever—and he very
well may be—his rage will most certainly consume him. His loyalty to the house of
Jaegar will be set in stone, and any evolvement of his soul outside of their influence
will be impossible.”

When Brooke brushed her hand lightly along his shoulder in an obvious gesture of support,
he visibly relaxed beneath her touch. “There is also the matter of repercussions:
What impact will such a meeting of houses have on Mr. Alexiares?” He regarded Marquis
with scrutiny then. “I agree with you, Master Warrior, there is an ulterior motive
involved—the Dark Ones are always up to something. Nonetheless, we are capable of
containing the situation if necessary.” His eyes flashed a strange gold and yellow,
reminiscent of the sun’s rays at high noon, before settling back into a dark, regal
hue. “I am more than capable of containing—or destroying—our enemy.” He stiffened.
“As you know, I don’t want to risk the collateral damage of so many human lives should
I have to unleash my fury in the valley, but I will if I have to.”

Marquis’s sharp inhale made it clear that there would be no argument from the Ancient
Master Warrior. Napolean’s prowess in battle was legendary—his overwhelming facility
for lethality and power beyond what anyone in the house of Jadon could even comprehend.

“I…” Ramsey tested his voice before proceeding. “I understand that, milord; however,
the cost in human life, in natural destruction—perhaps even to your own health should
you have to
go there
—might be more of a risk than any of us are willing to take.”

Napolean appeared to be considering Ramsey’s words. “Perhaps.” He shrugged. “However,
if the Dark Ones are planning some sort of subterfuge—a trick or worse, an attack—then
it is more than likely against Saber, himself.” He absently braced his jaw with his
thumb and forefinger. “They do not want this male—who has lived among them, studied
their histories and secrets, shared in their customs and ceremonies—waltzing off into
the sunset to live among their enemy, knowing he could potentially share all he has
learned with our house. Believe me, whether they try something tomorrow night or not,
they want Saber Alexiares dead.”

Vanya shivered unwittingly, rubbing her arms with her hands to generate heat.

“This may be the edge we need,” Napolean explained.

“How so?” Ramsey asked.

“A chink in the armor, so to speak,” Napolean answered. “If they make a move against
Saber, then they also make it clear that he is no longer welcome among them. If they
actually try to kill him, then he learns that his loyalty, and his unconscious love,
are not shared by his dark brothers. They leave us an opening…they leave
him
an opening…to begin absorbing information from a different vantage point: one that
at least allows the possibility that he was not born there, and may be other than
what he assumes.” He rubbed his temples wearily then. “It isn’t much. The male is
as hardwired as I have ever seen, nurture trumping nature at its max; but just the
same, it may be a crucial opportunity if we ever hope to make any inroads with the
soldier.”

For some reason, the king’s words must have triggered a momentary lapse in reason
within Ramsey Olaru. He spit out his toothpick—
on
Napolean’s
floor
—and snarled, “I gotta be honest; I’ve watched the bastard day in and day out for
a while now, and I’m not so sure he still has a soul to be saved.” His muscles bunched
and rippled as he drew to his full height. “Frankly, I’m against all of it. I say
the male never gets anywhere near Vanya, and the Dark Ones can take their delegation
and shove it where the sun don’t shine. Literally.” His voice dropped to a lethal
purr. “If it please you, milord; my job,
my sworn duty
, is to kill Dark Ones. If you recall, I spend my evenings, or at least I used to
before I became a glorified babysitter, arranging hunting parties to troll the local
towns and counties, extinguishing dark vampires. Tracking them, hunting them, ensnaring
them whenever necessary, so I can deliver their hearts and their heads back to hell.
Now, you want your warriors to just stand back and let them waltz into neutral territory,
knowing damn well they’re planning an offensive, all so we might save this one unredeemable
soul.” His lips twitched in anger. “Well, I say the cost is too high. The risk is
too great. I say no to it all.”

The king’s jaw tightened, and his own voice took on a dangerous edge. “Your allegiance
is to the house of Jadon first, Ramsey.”

Ramsey turned on his heel and took an aggressive step toward Napolean. “You’re damn
right it is!”

“And Saber is
born
of this house!”

“The hell he is!” Ramsey shouted in an unprecedented display of insubordination.

Napolean dropped his own tone to a low, lethal whisper. “At any rate, you will obey
your Sovereign.”

Ramsey seemed to inhale Napolean’s words and swish them around in his mouth, trying
feverishly to swallow them, before failing. In a barely audible tone, he murmured,
“Maybe. Maybe not on this one.”

Napolean’s head turned to the side in an eerily serpentine motion, and a terrifying
pop, like that of an amplifier blowing a fuse, crackled in the air as the king’s ancient
eyes bored into Ramsey’s like a searing laser of light.