Vampire Legacy (Book 4 of the Dragon Heat series) (36 page)

Petran regarded Hillia as fat tears rolled down her cheeks. With exaggerated movements, she reached behind her and grabbed a handkerchief from her dresser to dab at her eyes. What a great actress she could be.

“Who was it?”

“Who was what?” she replied, between sobs.

“Who came up with the idea of using a rare type of smallpox to kill serfs and murder Somenski, you or Kalaur?”

She blinked a couple of times. “I do not know to what you are referring, husband.”

“Oh, yes you do, wife,” Petran retorted between clenched teeth. “You have been plotting for months to overthrow me. You said it yourself just now…how did you put it? You did not swim across an ocean only to die on the beach?”

“I was trying to play the part, Petran. I had no other choice,” she bellowed back. “Can you not see what a precarious position you have left me in?”

A tinge of guilt threatened to warm Petran’s heart, but he suppressed it. No, he could not fall for her lies. “I knew you didn’t care much about me but I must confess, Hillia, you did surprise me. I didn’t think you would go to these lengths just to get rid of me,” he added. “But I must ask you, why? Why did you do it? You could have chosen to stay in your beloved Paris, or to live at any one of my properties in the New World if you had wished to do so. Why overthrow me? And why now? I never forced you to stay here, or even to pretend to love me. Bloody Hiad, I never even asked you to pay respects and report your whereabouts, Hillia. Why in Hiad do you want me dead?”

Finally, all feigned pretense disappeared from her posture and she gazed up at him with chilling eyes, which brought frost to his bones.

“Like the famous fable,” she said in even tones. “The king is blind to what is right in front of him. You have chosen to live in a fantasy, Petran, but I have not.”

“A fantasy?”

“We are surrounded by enemies, Petran; the other vampire kings are too busy conquering the New World; sooner or later, our land will be stolen either by dragons, or by daemons. And you, my dear king, from the heights of your pedestal have refused to listen to me. You ignored my warnings, my reasoning, and my advice, night after night, year after year. So I did what any queen must do to guarantee the future of her crown...”

“You stabbed your husband in the back and went to bed with my worst enemy,” Petran growled, concluding the sentence for her. He could feel his patience deserting him with her every word.

“No, I forged an alliance with a powerful sovereign while you wasted your time chasing skirts and screwing your neighbors’ daughter.”

Petran felt his fangs tingle, his jaw pop in anger. “Watch your mouth, viper, or I’ll decide to strip you of your venom with my own hands.”

“Everything was set in motion,” Hillia continued her proud tirade as if not having heard his warning. “The old Somenski was succumbing to the Curse—yes, it was one I conjured from my travels to Paris—soon he would have no choice but to give his silly daughter in marriage to keep his castle and lands in the family, making Kalaur the most powerful lord in Eastern Europe. We would be his closest allies, as he confided so many times to me,” Hillia explained with pride in her voice, but then her tone turned dark and her fangs elongated. “That was the way it was supposed to happen until you screwed up everything by becoming infatuated with your little bitch of the moment.”

Petran snorted, not believing his ears. “You are a fool to believe that Kalaur would keep his word or even be satisfied with only Somenski’s lands. He will never stop wanting more, Hillia, he will not stop until he’d gotten ours too. Did you know that while he turned you into
his
little bitch of the moment, he was already in bed with the Desert Sultan planning his next move?”

With those words of truth, Hillia’s eyes went red and she wiped the top of the dresser clean with her hands. Several bottles of expensive French perfume and face powders went flying through the air and crashed against the opposite wall.

“I do not care if the daemons conquer the entire Eastern Territories,” she bellowed. “As long as
she
gets what she deserves!”

She, meaning Natalia.

Petran blinked, unable to mask his astonishment and disgust. “Is that what this is all about? My affair with Natalia?” He could not contain his anger any longer. It boiled to the top, and exploded into his words. “By Apa Dobrý, woman! What a petty little inmã you are! You destroyed my kingdom because of a jealous triviality?”

“Triviality?” she barked back. “Do not offend my intelligence, Petran. I saw the way you look at her, the way you jumped to protect her at the Open Games even before you aided your own kind, or your own wife. This affair is insulting and I will not stand for it any longer.”

“It astounds me what a bloody hypocrite you are, my queen. Yes, I’ve taken Lady Natalia as my lover, but I was much more discrete than you were with your lovers.” At her appalled glare, he added. “Do you truly believe I would forget your many indiscretions? Your affairs with half of the bachelors in France? The entire ton knows, so why shouldn’t I?”

“But I have never humiliated you in public,” she screamed at him.

“That’s bullocks, and I have never humil—”

“Never?” she sneered. “Now who is the hypocrite in the room, my king? You did not even care to hide your feelings for that wench. The entirety of Romania noticed your longing gazes and escapades during the Open Games. And then, as if that was not enough, you decided to play hero and jump to her defense in front of the entire Romanian ton!” She kicked her chair out of the way and squared off in front of him. “You disgust me with your weakness for young cunts.”

Petran’s barred his fangs at her at the sound of the vulgar accusation. Oh, how he wished she were a man, so he could punch those foul words right out of her putrid mouth.

“Do not test me, Hillia,” he replied between clenched teeth. “You are ready to sacrifice your own son just to get your revenge on me, and that is unacceptable. Unforgivable. You were right about one thing though, no mother should be forced to see her son suffering, the same way no son should learn that the one who had brought him to life was the one who took it away. This time, you went too far, Hillia.”

“Oh, spare me your ridiculous moralities,” Hillia snorted. “You are as frustrated with Tardieh as I am. He refuses to grow up, or acknowledge our advice. He will never be a good king. On that, my dear, you must agree that I am doing our race a favor by taking him out of the equation.”

“Taking him out of the equation?” Petran repeated in utter rage. “By Apa Dobrý, woman, he is your son!”

“Indeed, and I will amend that promptly.”

Petran ran his hand along his hair, barely believing what he was witnessing. He knew he had married a cold-blooded serpent, but he thought even Hillia would have a soft spot for her offspring. How wrong he had been.

On the far wall, the tall French clock struck midnight. It was time.

“You are the only one to blame for your demise, Hillia,” he warned not bothering to hide his revulsion for her. “You will be charged with high treason, for plotting against your king, and attempting to murder a member of the Draconian Senate.” He reached out and grabbed her by the elbows. “And may the Soartas strike me twice if I don’t see you incinerated for your treachery.”

He was nose to nose with her, and while most women would have recoiled in fear, his lovely wife did not even flinch.

“No, my dear husband,” she sneered. “It is I who will see you cross the Rivers of Apa Sâmbetei.”

At those words, she lifted her hand and struck.

A silver blade glittered in the dim light just before it lodged in Petran’s neck, just below his left ear. Confusion hit him before he realized that the set of daggers, which was now lying on the floor together with the other contents of the dressing table, was missing both pieces. She must have clutched at the dagger and hidden it between her skirts when she threw everything to the floor.

Damn the Soartas! He had been a fool for not predicting that last betrayal.

Life-sustaining blood gushed from the open wound. She had managed to hit an artery, and steal half of his strength. He clutched at the open hole, but from the corner of his eye he saw the blade sparkle against the light once again, heading in his direction.

“And make no mistake, my husband, you will hear my laughter as you are consumed by the divine fire, and your inmã is taken to Hiad,” she screeched then charged forward.

He lifted his left arm successfully blocking the blade to reach his neck but the sharp dagger ripped through skin and the tendons in the crook of his left arm, incapacitating it.
His sword arm
. Bloody Hiad.

Petran jumped back feeling the hit, and prepared for her next attack. She launched herself at him, knife pointing at his jugular. She was going for the kill. But he had decades of experience in his favor. He ducked low and shoved her sideways, wanting to retaliate in kind, but his damned upbringing halted him. He just couldn’t bring himself to hit a woman.

Hillia lunged herself at him again and they tumbled backwards, crashing down onto the expensive Persian carpet. She quickly rolled him onto his back straddling him to gain the advantage of being on top, but this time Petran saw her coming. Even though he was bleeding heavily, and one of his arms refused to obey his commands, he grabbed her fists and halted her attack. But unlike him, she had two hands at her disposal, and knew how to use them.

In the back of his mind, he registered battle noises. Had Arthur and his royal army come for his rescue?

Hillia managed to free one hand from his grasp and ripped the skin on his face with her claws. More of his blood spilled on the carpet. The more he bled the less energy he had to fight her. He knew it, she knew it. She was probably counting on it. While still holding one of her wrists, he jolted his hips up breaking her balance. She tumbled sideways, which gave him enough room to move out of her reach. As he stood, she also pushed off the bloody floor and charged at him again.

It was time to end this.

Petran ducked low then swiveled on his heels, dodging Hillia’s attack and stealing her blade from her hand at the same time. Then, he sneaked up and around her, while she was still unaware of what was happening, and plunged the knife into her throat point-first, then drew it across her trachea. Cold blood gushed out as her hands clutched at the open wound in a feeble attempt to block it.

Suddenly, the door in front of him exploded into a million pieces and a blast of dragon fire gushed in, hitting Hillia squarely in the chest.

Petran jumped out of harm’s way, as his wife’s body shook and flailed, consumed by the flames. Her high-pitched screams were deafening to his ears, as much as the sight of her skin melting was a gruesome assault to his eyes. What a horrible way to end a marriage, a life, a generation—all because of jealousy and greed. There had to be a better way of ruling a kingdom, and of being a couple.

Still weak from the loss of blood, he perched himself up on his elbows and watched Talia glide into the room with a graciousness which contrasted with her hard glare. She had managed to find him, again, despite all his efforts to keep her away.

“Petran! Are you alright?” she gasped, crouching by his side. “I was worried to death when you didn’t show up at the rendezvous. I knew something had gone wrong.”

“I told you to stay with your father,” he replied but the hardness on his words failed to match his tone. By Apa Dobrý, he was so glad to see her. He pushed off the floor and pulled her into his arms.

“Oh, Mighty Soartas, you’re bleeding!”

“The wound is closing already,” he replied against her lips, trying to distract her. Or maybe he was trying to distract himself from the immensity of his resolution.
It had to be done
.
There was no way of continuing like that
. 

“Petran, please, talk to me,” Talia pleaded keeping him at arm’s length. “What happened? Why was Hillia attacking you?”

“She was the one behind it all. Kalaur was just another one of her pawns. And she was ready to sacrifice Tardieh for her glory.”

Talia covered her mouth with both hands in shock. “Mighty Soartas!”

“Yes, very well put, my sweet,” he replied with a tired chuckle. “The Soartas definitely pulled a good one on me this time around.” He checked the wound on his neck and was glad to feel the blood had stopped spilling forth. He knew however that it would take a while to heal completely. “How did you manage to get in the castle and find me?” he asked her, opening and closing his sword hand, testing the tendons slashed by Hillia. With relief, he felt the movements of his arm were already returning to normal.

“Zoricah found where Tardieh is being kept,” Talia relayed. “Arthur and the others were ready to go rescue him, but I knew you were still alive and something was keeping you from joining us. I just knew it. So I convinced Arthur to let me sneak in and search for you while they held Kalaur’s guards at bay outside the castle.”

Petran shook his head, unable to stop the admiration from flooding his gaze. He wanted to chide her for not following his orders, for coming after him, for risking her life to save his, but he was simply unable to feel anything but utter respect and admiration for the female draco in front of him. In a rare moment of spontaneity, he cupped her cheeks in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. Her warm lips parted to welcome his tongue with no reservations. All their differences, the war, even Hillia’s betrayal vanished in the moment, in her warmth.