Dark heiress, p.33
Dark Heiress, page 33
part #5 of Ema Marx Series
I didn’t know what to say. Anger, hurt, and pride warred with my heart. At that moment, I didn’t trust my heart to win. I clenched my jaw and looked away. “I cannot deal with this right now, Ema.”
She sniffled. When she spoke again, her voice was a soft murmur. “You know Brinnon’s secret. He might ... he might never have an heir. And I’m not saying Logan Junior would fill that role. No. He probably never will. But I know Brinnon would love him regardless. I know my boy would be surrounded by an army of his own. Think about it.”
Her footsteps faded away.
I did not move for a long time after she left the wing. Then I grabbed the nearest object and threw it as hard as I could. It wasn’t until the object hit the wall and broke that I realized the small, black rectangle was a tape recorder. I went to it, curious. Several cracks split the recorder down the middle, but the cassette inside survived the collision. I picked it up, removed the tape, then went to my room and found my cassette player in my bag. Placing the earbuds, I popped the cassette into the player and pressed play.
A voice crackled over the shoddy audio. My voice.
“This is Jesu ta Korento and The Scabies.”
“That is a stupid name for a band. It is literally just the two of us.”
I laughed at the sound of my brother’s usual foul mood. The Scabies had lasted all of five minutes, and I had completely forgotten that I’d recorded every second of it.
“Come on, big bro. Don’t be such a square.”
I recalled Jalmari rolling his eyes. I’d composed a single song. Roses. Because I was so metal and badass. The problem was The Scabies had no idea how to play a single musical instrument. I winced as the off-key melody screeched over my headphones. Whoever said metal wasn’t about talent had more talent than we did.
“This is rubbish,” said Jalmari. “I have more important things to do.”
Indeed he had.
The tape ended. I removed the earbuds and sat on the edge of the bed. How sure am I that Ema’s daughter is the one? The Brotherhood certainly thought so. But I had been wrong before.
It does not matter, I realized. Ema is right. We need backup plans. Our backup plans needed backup plans. That was how deep of a grave we were digging. With the threat of the R.E.D. to consider, placating the Council once they learned they’ve been conned into accepting a vampire king, seeing the entire clan safely through the threat of the Rebels ... It is a lot. I wasn’t even positive I wanted it. We were doing it for Jordan ...
Oh. That is right. I had been doing it all for Jordan.
It wasn’t that my half-brother wasn’t in the picture when I imagined our future. Of course he was. But I couldn’t see him clearly. Didn’t obsess over him like I did Jordan and Ema. But to give him up? Was it selfish not to?
They will be pitted against each other. If Snow gets his way, he will turn Jordan against her brother. So sayeth the prophecy. But surely, if they grew up together, she would not wish to harm her own twin.
I looked at the cassette player. Smiled at the memory of my big brother entertaining my fleeting dream to open for The Cure, even if it was just for five minutes, even if he had a mountain of other obligations—and knew that Ema was wrong. Our son needed his family.
I took out my cell phone and called the Alpan prince.
Chapter 28
I found Jalmari in the ballroom on my way back from the fourth wing. My nerves still shook from the argument with Jesu—he’s so stubborn. I had thought about going straight to the North wing to relax and eat, but upon seeing the Neo-Draugrian prince, I stopped. He stood in a small group of five, chatting in low voices that I couldn’t decipher because the conversation was in Finnish. Note to self, learn the language.
Jalmari noticed me and excused himself. “Everything all right, little Roma?”
“Don’t do that,” I said.
“Do what?” His gaze was on his Councilmen, watching them as he spoke to me. To be fair, the group was also watching us.
“Don’t undermine me with pet names.”
Jalmari scanned me and grinned. “But of course, Your Highness.”
I rolled my eyes, then gestured to the loitering Councilmen. “Are they staying for the coronation?”
“I hope not. There are enemies to contend with. But they will be back for the ceremony.”
I looked past his shoulder at the group. They watched me with an even mix of curious and nefarious gazes. “Can we speak privately?”
Jalmari scoffed. “A true luxury, given the present company.” He pivoted and gave his Councilmen a wink. Then he faced me. “Come.”
I followed Jalmari to his office. It looked exactly the same as when I left it last. Solid wood desk, tall bookshelves, minimalist style. Once, we toasted to our own morbid version of an engagement moments before I poisoned him at Leena’s instruction. My gaze went to the spot on the floor where Jalmari had fallen over and lost consciousness. There were no physical markings on the spotless wood panels, but I gulped anyway.
“What can I do for you, my future queen?” Jalmari folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the desk in a relaxed stance.
“You didn’t tell me the Rebels were raiding the capital cities. Is that happening elsewhere, too? Germany?”
Jalmari scoffed. “I didn’t tell you because is it not your concern. You have bigger things to worry about.”
“You’re making a mistake,” I said.
Jalmari blinked once, then made a show of looking around the room. “Where?”
I eyed him. “Ordering civilians to capture the Rebels for you. That’s not their job. It’s yours. The Councilmen and the guards. I saw the Rebels at the attack on Brinnon’s castle, same as you. They used their numbers to intimidate us and catch us by surprise, but they didn’t know how to fight. They’re not soldiers.”
Jalmari narrowed his gaze. “You are questioning my orders? You, with no knowledge of battle strategy and no experience of leading a people?”
“Yes me, the woman you are giving your crown to.” Seriously, what was with the Korento men today? Jalmari furrowed his brow, but I didn’t give him a chance to continue undermining me. “I may not know battle strategy, but I know wars. I’ve studied them in hindsight, from all angles. This is a revolution, Jalmari. They mean to dethrone you, and that means me and Jesu and me as well. Do you know what drives a revolution? Fear. Fear makes people act irrationally. You gave your men a quota; a thousand Rebels by the end of the week. They will focus on the quota, Jalmari. Not fair trial. Not evidence. The quota. You know why? Fear. If you lead from a place of fear, they will follow from a place of fear, but all it takes is one accidental screw up. The family of one wrongly accused civilian crying out for justice in the middle of a dark alley. Then that fear turns, and you and your entire family become the thing they hate. When that happens, they will abandon the monarchy and join the Rebels. Their numbers will grow. And you can’t kill them all.”
Jalmari’s gaze darkened. He said nothing for a long while, and I was positive he would dismiss me. “What is your alternative?”
I blinked at him. “Pardon?”
“Your alternative,” he said harshly. “I assume you have one.”
I did. “Lead from a place of mercy.”
He snorted. “Show the Rebels mercy? Even after they killed Maria and attempted to kill your friend, Brinnon?”
“Yes,” I said confidently. “Instead of turning civilians against each other, offer them a reward for information. Give protection to Rebels who turn themselves in. Let this be a monarchy they flock to, not one they run from. Protect them, and they will want to protect us. Douse the fire under Victor’s ass with a loyalty he cannot fracture.”
Jalmari watched me for several minutes. I realized he went quiet when thinking.
He’s taking me seriously.
“The Alpan Rebels were easily cut down because they are Alpan. Limited to the forms of their chosen beasts. They were able to infiltrate Brinnon’s army because no one expected it, but they will not be able to pull that off a second time. That is not the case here. Neo-Draugrian can phase. That means Neo-Draugrian Rebels don’t need to infiltrate us. They can simply wait in the walls.” He paused and studied me. “Still think mercy is the wisest choice?”
“Mercy is always the wisest choice.” I held firm. Kept my gaze level with his. Showing him that I meant it.
Jalmari nodded. “Very well. I will convey these new orders to the Arms. Is there anything else?”
My gaze widened. New orders? I suddenly needed to sit down and lowered into the office chair facing Jalmari. “Did that really just happen?”
Jalmari smirked. “Don’t get used to it, little Roma.”
My gaze shot in his direction as he turned away and exited the room.
Right. I wouldn’t be queen for long. I was just a placeholder for Jesu. Not that I minded. But still, to have that kind of effect? Wow.
I stood to leave when the door opened. Naamah took half a step into the office before his gaze lifted, and he startled as though not expecting me. He recovered quickly; his bearded mouth lifted to crease the outer corners of his eyes. “Just the lady I was looking for.”
I upped my brow. “Yeah?”
“We have a ceremony to practice for.” Naamah crossed to the bookshelves at the back of the room and searched for some unknown volume. “The traditions are pretty simple, but you are expected to memorize your lines.”
“Don’t tell me ... they’re in Finish, aren’t they?”
Naamah pivoted and smirked. “Worse. Norse.”
My brow inched toward my hairline, and I sighed. “I’m just grateful you’re not signing me up for etiquette classes.” I paused. Blinked. Felt the color drain from my face. “You’re not signing me up for etiquette classes, are you?”
Naamah chuckled. “Perhaps a crash-course version demonstrated by yours truly.”
Well that doesn’t sound too bad.
Naamah found the book he searched for and pulled a thin leather-bound spine from the shelf. “Here it is. Your crash-course. I suggest we begin immediately.”
He handed me the book, but it was only to quell my curiosity since I couldn’t read the beautiful characters stamped in gold leaflets on the front cover. The blotched handwritten ink inside wasn’t much better.
“We really ought to scan these things into a database,” he said as I returned the book to him. “Before they’re lost even to us.”
“Your secrets would be revealed if you did. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with new traditions.”
Naamah smiled with his eyes. “No, there is not,” he agreed. “But for now, let us appease the Council with the familiar.”
I nodded. A change was in the wind. It would come no matter how hard anyone fought against it. Better to flow with the tide and save my strength for the rapids.
“I hope you are not squeamish around snakes.”
“Depends on the snake.” I narrowed my gaze. “Why?”
“One will be draped across your shoulders during the ceremony.”
I blinked several times. “Um ...”
“Just a little grass snake,” Naamah clarified. “And just for a few minutes.”
I drew a deep breath, dispelling some tension, and mustering my courage. I’m a vampyre. The poor creature will be more frightened of me than I will be of it. “Sure, no problem.”
Naamah nodded. “Good. Shall we get started?”
“Here?” I glanced around the gloomy office space.
“Might as well. This castle doesn’t have a throne room. A platform will be assembled in the ballroom for the occasion.” His gaze took a turn around the perimeter of the office. “I suspect it won’t be any bigger than the space we’re in.”
“Okay.” I stood straighter and rolled my shoulders back as though to appear more regal. “Let’s do this.”
Naamah explained the symbolism of the snake—the shedding of the skin represented the shedding of an era—and how the creatures played a significant role in the theology of the people of the time. It saddened me to think how peaceful the Draugrians once lived. How even though the human population believed them godly, they still served their mortal brethren. Sad because Apollyon took advantage, killed them all, and stole the throne for himself. Jord didn’t even get a chance to rule—an opportunity to defend her people—before her uncle married her off to end the slaughter. Naamah admitted he didn’t know much about Jesu’s mother or her life before her husband. He and Maria had arrived with Apollyon, already sworn to service; victims of another clan defeated by Apollyon’s might.
Jord got her revenge, though. Because of her, Apollyon was dead for over two-thousand years. Until I came and messed things up. But I liked to think Jord would approve of me putting her son on the throne—the last true Draugrian—as well as carrying her grandchildren. I kept Jord’s honor at the forefront of my mind while Naamah and I practiced my lines for the ceremony. He’d translated for me:
“I am the serpent that holds the earth.
I am the light that guides in the dark.
I am the shield that weathers the storm.
I am the blood from wince gods are born.
Protector of family, friend, and brood.”
Beautiful. Powerful. And utterly impossible to recite in a foreign language. After two frustrating hours, Naamah made up some excuse about needing to check on Jalmari.
“But keep practicing,” he said.
I nodded, waited until his footsteps faded away, then sighed into an armchair. Two days to memorize five lines in Old Norse. Good grief!
I went back to the North wing and spent breakfast with my parents, not wanting to risk the effects of bloodlust when Jesu and I were supposed to be keeping our distance. Sara visited and we talked about baby shower ideas with Mom. Even Tilly, Sara’s chaperone, offered a few suggestions. I was happy to sit back and let the three of them hash out the details. It didn’t matter to me. I was just glad to have something positive for Mom to focus her energy on. The ladies were still at it when Naamah knocked on the door and called me away for more coronation practice.
He led me from the second story landing to the ground level of the ballroom where, as promised, several workers nailed wooden planks together to build a low platform.
Naamah stopped a little way from the construction, then spun on his heels in a flamboyant twist. “Today, I will teach you a basic waltz.”
I snorted. “Dance lessons?”
“Did you think there wouldn’t be any dancing at your coronation?”
Well, I barely had a wedding, so ...
“Who am I supposed to dance with?” I asked, thinking of the first dance tradition at Brinnon’s coronation.
“Prince Jalmari.”
There was an implied duh in there somewhere, but Naamah was either too old fashioned or too gentlemanly to voice it.
I nodded to show I understood. There were all sorts of political reasons why it would be wise for me to choose Jalmari as my partner for the night. Solidarity, for one thing. Reassuring the Council I did not plan to do away with their old regime completely—or immediately. It probably wouldn’t hurt if a few of them believed I might have a romantic interest in the ex-prince after all.
Blech.
But I would do it. I would pretend. For that one night, at least.
You will never be done sacrificing for them.
Naamah smiled, seemingly pleased with my response, then held out a hand. “But for now, I think I will suffice as your dance partner.”
I placed my hand in his and let him lead me into the lesson.
“Pretend there is a square drawn on the floor,” he instructed. “Trace the lines with your feet starting with your right. Step back, trace the first line. Left foot steps to the side. Now bring both feet together.”
“That’s a square?” I watched his feet, trying to follow, but struggled with the visual.
Naamah chuckled. “That was half a square.”
I gaped up at him. “There’s more?”
“Same idea. Just step forward this time. Right foot to the side. Bring both feet together. And there we go.”
“I still don’t see a square.”
“Forget the square. Eyes up.”
I lifted my gaze slowly, not trusting his instructions. At least he was still smiling. Not out of patience with me yet.
Naamah lifted his brow to signal that we were staring again. “Right foot back,” he instructed as he stepped forward with me. “Side. Together. Now step forward. Side. Together. See?”
I pulled both lips between my teeth. Sure, the steps were easy. But I was also painfully aware that we were moving at a snail crawl, and not even classical music went that slow. “Please tell me that’s it. I might be able to pick up the speed if that’s it.”
“Mm. Focus on this for now. We’ll add the rotation in a bit.”
“Rotation?”
“Don’t jump ahead, my friend. Focus.”
We did the square tracing steps several more times. It became easier. A little more fluid. A little less stiff. But I dreaded the moment he decided to pick up the pace.
That moment didn’t come yet. Instead, he decided to do an underarm spin that completely threw me off guard. I jumped back and giggled. “Dude, you can’t just throw me into a twirl with no warning.”
“Apologies. Let’s try that again.”
I drew a sobering breath and moved toward him. This time, Naamah explained how to step into the turn. It seemed simple enough, but when we put the whole thing together—back, side, together. Forward, side, together. Back, side, turn—I aced the spin but completely lost the rhythm to come back into the basic starting step, not knowing how to continue like the room hadn’t just looped me around.
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“No one gets it on the first try. Once more from the top.”
At least he has the patience of a saint. We danced a few more rounds, but each time I botched the spin in new and increasingly cringy ways. I even ended up kneeling at one point. No idea how.
