Prophecy: Dark Moon Rising (7 page)

He wondered if there really was a way of getting the two houses to cooperate other than resorting to the initial violence that Lady Caelestis and Lord Aurorea had used. Prophecy could never rule her family like that.

He could, but she’d probably never talk to him again. Lord Aurorea had massacred half of his family, sacrificing them to make the others obey. He could do that.

He shook his head to clear it of the idea.

There had to be another way, something peaceful and deathless that would suit Prophecy.

He was sure she’d find it.

Valentine’s gaze tracked Prophecy as she paced the room. He could feel her tension in the air around him as though it was a tangible thing. From the moment the door had closed, she’d not said a word and had barely looked at him.

He leaned back against the table and lowered his eyes to the floor. Studying the grain of the polished wooden floorboards, he listened to the sound of her footsteps. They were a light clicking sound. Extending his senses a fraction, he continued to follow her movements, letting the steady back and forth motion of her ease his thoughts. Focusing on something as simple as the pace of her steps cleared his head, allowing his mind a moment to get everything that was crowding it into order. He supposed that was why he paced while thinking. Sometimes focusing on something simple made the more complex things become easier to deal with.

“Are you okay?” Her voice sounded out to him and he raised his head. “Is something wrong? Does it hurt?”

“Hurt?” he said and her eyes dropped. He looked down at his chest and saw his hand against it, touching the spot above his heart. He flinched with the memory of Arkalus and the stake, and his fingers curled against his shirt, dragging the material with them. “I had not realised … I…”

She was standing in front of him before he could say anything else. Her hand appeared in view, her fingers wrapping around his and holding them.

Bringing his eyes up, he looked into hers and saw all of the concern in their dark depths. He smiled as best he could, hoping to stop her from worrying about him when they had more pressing matters to attend to.

“Have you had any nightmares?” she said while the tips of her fingers brushed against his palm.

He lowered his hand. “It is over.”

“Over?”

“They only last so long.”

“I don’t understand. You sound like you’re speaking from past experience here.” Her eyes were wide with something he couldn’t quite make out. It wasn’t just confusion. Another emotion filled them. Horror. Horror at what she thought he meant by what he’d said. He wished he could pretend what she was thinking wasn’t true, for her sake, but it was and he’d sworn never to lie to her.

“I am,” he said and her hand fell away from his. She seemed stunned into silence so he decided to clarify things for her. “I hold secrets about my bloodline, things that people would willingly torture me to discover. As part of my initiation into the role of hunter, I was trained to withstand torture.”

“So your family tortured you,” she stated in a tone that spoke of anger and resentment.

“I—”

“Don’t defend them, Valentine.” Her hand was in his again, holding it tightly and making him raise his eyes to look into hers.

He hadn’t even realised he’d dropped them to the floor. Why? Was he ashamed of what his family had done to him in order to teach him the ways of coping with pain?

At the time, it had seemed necessary. He had known that he would heal and nothing would be done to him that his body couldn’t repair. He had willingly subjected himself to the captivity, conditions and intense pain associated with torture. It had been for the sake of his family.

It hadn’t been for nothing either. A Vehemens had once caught him. She’d held him for three days before he’d had his chance to kill her. He’d told her nothing. Just like he’d told Kalinor nothing.

The only person who had managed to get him speak while captive had been Arkalus.

“Valentine?” Prophecy said and he blinked himself back to the world. She was still holding his hand where it rested limp at his side.

“What is it?” he said, as though he didn’t know what troubled her.

“I…” She sighed and stared off into the distance. “I wish it was just us again. I don’t think I can cope with all of this. I’m not strong enough. All this waiting, and struggling to control our families. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to take leadership of them. It just feels like we’re sitting ducks, waiting for Elena to choose her moment to attack. We haven’t got an army out of it; we’ve got a death sentence.”

She tried to walk away from him but he held onto her hand, stopping her. She looked down at their joined hands. He held hers a little tighter, hoping to show her that everything would be all right.

“It was different then, Prophecy. We did not have such responsibilities.”

She laughed and he frowned to hear it.

“Such responsibilities?” A smile teased her lips. “Are you saying it was simpler when we just had to save the world together?”

He nodded, his expression deadly serious. “Of course. This added burden is affecting both of us. Neither of us want to lead our family. Both of us would rather we were alone.”

He swallowed when she stepped closer to him, her dark eyes searching his for the meaning behind his words. It wasn’t just her current apparel making him want to be alone with her; it was everything.

It was their families.

It was Venturi.

It was the possibility that the issues that hung between them all would get everyone killed, and he didn’t want that.

He didn’t want to lose her.

By taking her from her family that night and setting her on this path, he had given himself the duty of protecting her, and he would see that she survived this. It was his responsibility to make sure of that.

“Don’t you wish we could just leave? I mean … the Law Keepers will be coming, won’t they? The houses won’t work with each other no matter what we do. They’re always going to secretly despise the other.” She paused for a moment, her face sombre. “We’re doomed.”

“We are not doomed,” he said and pulled her towards him, gathering her into his arms. “But I do wish it was just us again.”

Taking hold of her hand, he wrapped his other arm about her waist and turned on the spot with her. A smile crept onto her lips, gracefully curving them and showing in her eyes. He turned with her again, leading her into the more open area away from the table he’d been leaning against. Dancing across the room with her, he was amazed at how it affected her. She was suddenly full of smiles, staring deep into his eyes and looking as though there was nothing but a tranquil eternity ahead of them.

He took a deep breath and lowered his head until his cheek touched hers.

“I wish it could be always like this,” she said and her fingers gripped his shoulder a little firmer. Her cheek pressed harder against his.

“So do I,” he whispered and closed his eyes. He wondered if she felt as calm and peaceful as he did right now. It really did feel as though the war had disappeared and the weight of the prophecy had been lifted from his shoulders.

“Valentine?” Her voice trembled and her soft breath tickled his neck.

“Hmm?” He gathered her a little closer, smiling when his action lifted her off the floor so he was just moving with her again as though she was a perfect china doll in his embrace.

“Don’t ever stop. Dance away with me … far from here … far from all this. I want it all over with. I want it all to go away so we can be like this, feel like this.”

Drawing back, he smiled into her eyes, silently telling her that if he had the power, he’d do exactly as she’d asked him to. He’d end this war and take away all of the fear he could feel in her, the uncertainty. He wished he had the words to reassure her that nothing bad was going to happen, but he couldn’t lie to her. Bad things were going to happen, it was going to get worse before it got better, but in the end, they would be free of the prophecy and safe at last.

He combed her damp hair with his fingers, his eyes taking in her face and the sweet look of hope she was giving him, and then sighed.

Someone coughed delicately, breaking the spell. He could feel the warmth of the quiet moment slip away, leaving behind only the cold reality of the world.

Prophecy turned her head and he followed suit. Standing in the doorway was Serenity. If she were here, then his head guard would shortly join them and so would Tiberius and Venturi.

“Now that looked like fun,” Serenity said while venturing further into the room. “I wish someone would dance with me like that.”

“Maybe they will someday.” Prophecy smiled at Serenity and then looked at him.

Reluctantly letting go of her, he prepared himself for the impending discussion. She moved away from him, heading back to the table that she’d been pacing next to before she’d come to him. Serenity went to her, holding a low spoken conversation that he presumed was about their dancing. When Xavier entered, shortly followed by Tiberius, Valentine went to the table.

Prophecy looked at him and her eyes betrayed what she’d said earlier. She didn’t want to be here. She was tired and strained, and didn’t know how to make things right between their families.

She pressed her palms into the table, leaning over it while she spoke to Tiberius. Xavier stood to one side, almost aloof, until Valentine caught his eye and intimated with a single glance that he would do better not to stand so apart from the group. He watched the head guard walk towards the table and position himself next to Tiberius. Tiberius immediately straightened up, standing tall and acting as though he hadn’t noticed Xavier’s presence even when he so obviously had. Valentine looked at the two of them, both dressed in the fine uniform that their position bestowed upon them and both holding their head high. He wondered if Venturi and himself looked as ridiculously competitive to Prophecy. It had been a while since he’d let his jealousy of the Tenebrae get the better of him, but there were times when he almost slipped and resorted to acting childishly as he had in England.

When Prophecy glanced across at him, he gave her his full attention.

“We have no other choice but to fight together. It is the only way that will guarantee both of our families’ safety. We can’t risk the two armies turning on each other, or refusing to fight … or worse, siding with Elena.”

He could hear the tiniest hint of anxiety in her voice, too small for the others to detect, but enough that he noticed it. To them, she probably sounded confident and strong, in command. To him, she sounded scared and tired. He’d become so used to her ways, her nuances, that he could sense the faint change in her feelings as though they were bonded.

Looking down at her hand and the amulet that encased it, he wasn’t surprised to see a faint glow coming from the purple stone against her palm. Edging closer to her, he leaned on the table in a similar fashion to her and touched his hand against hers. She looked down at his hand where it was brushing hers and then smiled up into his eyes. Offering her a slight smile in return, he absorbed the warm tickling of the magic as it crept over his hand and then turned his attention to Serenity when she spoke.

“There has to be a way. Surely not all of the Aurorea are against us?” Serenity turned to face Xavier as she spoke and Valentine looked at him.

He waited to see how his head guard was going to react to such a question. His eyes locked on Xavier’s face, watching for any sign that he was lying.

“Not all, no. There are some willing to work with the Caelestis for the greater good of the family.”

“Of our species.” Prophecy corrected him.

Xavier frowned and then lowered his head. “My apologies, my lady. I meant my family and our species of course.”

Prophecy’s eyes followed his hand as he swept his dark hair from his face, pushing the long strands back into the ponytail that held the rest. She held his gaze when he finally found the courage to look directly at her. She swore his eyes flashed blue for a moment, but it might have been her imagination. She hadn’t been sleeping well recently and everything was starting to seriously take its toll on her.

She moved her hand closer to Valentine’s, wanting more of the comforting feeling that his proximity was giving her. Glancing down at his hand, she smiled inside when she saw the red threads of magic weaving their way around both of their fingers.

“It’s the calm before the storm isn’t it? She’s making us wait on purpose,” she said to no one in particular.

“It would seem that way,” Valentine answered her.

She stared at his hand, her eyes tracing the veins in the back of it and the intricate white scars that marred his skin. She liked the way she felt when he was this close to her. She felt a lot calmer and relaxed. Being in his arms earlier had reminded her of being on the run with him. She really wished she still were. This wasn’t what she wanted for her. She’d never wanted to lead her family. Now she was bogged down, forced to command a political position, and no safer than she had been when on the run. She still had a prophecy hanging over her head. People still wanted her dead. Only now they knew exactly where to find her.

The door opened and she lifted her head a fraction, enough to see Venturi enter. A sense of discomfort filled her and she could only hold his gaze for a split second before something forced her to look away. She stared at Valentine’s hand again, not willing to let go of it even though she knew that doing so would alleviate the strange sense of guilt inside her.

Venturi stopped beside her and she still kept hold of Valentine, even when she looked at him.

The Tenebrae placed the journal and the two scroll fragments down. She noticed that he avoided looking at her hand and at the man standing next to her. It was understandable. If their roles were reversed, she was sure she’d have a hard time with it too.

Raising her head, she looked at Venturi for what felt like hours. Her mind raced to think of something to say but she choked on the heavy atmosphere between them. She wondered if the others could sense it as keenly as she could and then told herself it was just her imagination and too many unspoken things. It was to be expected after the incident in the training room. She really hadn’t handled it well.