Vampire Legacy (Book 4 of the Dragon Heat series) (13 page)

“Unless…” Arthur said, and then stopped.

Petran narrowed his eyes at his chamberlain. “Speak your mind, Arthur. It’s better to cover all possibilities than be caught by surprise.”

“Unless the Dragon Lord is in on it as well,” he finally said.

Petran snorted. “Why would he poison his own people?” He had given his chamberlain the green flag but he didn’t expect that sort of nonsense.

“As a diversion,” Arthur replied with a shrug. “Maybe he wanted to implicate the poisoning of his people onto someone else but it backfired somehow along the way.”

Petran rubbed his short-trimmed beard, as he took Arthur’s words into consideration. “We need more evidence,” he stated. “Go back to Oxford and get me solid proof. I am certain that if we find the poison used, we’ll find the owner.”

Arthur bowed low in reverence and dematerialized. Petran’s mind reeled a thousand miles per hour. His chamberlain’s theory wasn’t as ridiculous as he had first thought it to be. He’d known Somenski all his life, he was a traditionalist and a harsh land lord at times, but Petran couldn’t imagine the old sod being capable of such cruelty against his own people. That didn’t mean, however, that another lord wouldn’t be. There were also the Daemons from the Dry Lands who have been trying to expand their empire for centuries. Petran’s father had sacrificed his own crown to keep them away, but if they wanted Somenski’s land, they’d have to go through Petran’s first. Furthermore, Petran knew contamination of wells and poisoning of royals wasn’t the Daemons’ style. No, this had been an internal job backed by an enemy powerful enough to cover it up so smoothly.

The sound of approaching footsteps caught Petran’s attention, bringing him back from his thoughts. He waited in the shadows.

After a moment, Lady Natalia strolled by not even ten feet away from him. She seemed not to have noticed him because she hurried on her path without a pause. And by the gates of Hiad, it looked like she was fuming. Her head held high, her shoulders squared up, as if she were on her way to battle. At once, Petran thanked the Soartas for not being the one on the receiving end of that wrath.

But he couldn’t miss the opportunity of approaching her without prying ears around.

This may be his only chance to find out if she had managed to convince her father to end the engagement. He pushed off the shadows and started after her.

“Vampire.” The odd call made him halt mid stride.

Who dared to address him in such an uncouth manner? He turned around, ready to retaliate against whomever it was.

The shadow of a tall woman appeared from behind one of the tents. She wore a plain leather dress, her wrists and neck adorned with several bracelets and necklaces, and her long dark braids almost touched the ground. She was the same water witch who helped Natalia smuggle Milek’s sister out of the country. The one called Mother Nepú.

“I know water witches are averse to the male gender, but this is not the way of addressing a king.”

“You’re not my king, or of my people,” she replied slowly. “However—” She lifted her hand, as if in surrender. “I’m not here to quarrel with you.”

It was then Petran noticed she still carried the book Natalia had given her as payment. “So why are you here?”

“To warn you, vampire.”

And there it was again. The woman was simply incapable of adhering to proper manners. He let it pass. This time. “Warn me about what, witch? And be quick about it, my patience is at its limit tonight.”

“I came here to tell you not to pursue the path you are on now.”

“Tell me?” Petran saw red. Mighty Soartas, the woman had real nerve. “May I remind you, witch, I am the King of Vampires, the leader of the most powerful race in Terhem Viahta. Since you seemed to have forgotten, no one tells me what to do or not to do, especially a charlatan witch from the jungle.”

“I’m warning you that if you proceed with your plans, the destruction which will ensue will be bigger and more devastating than the Great War.”

“What in Hiad are you talking about?” Petran growled. Maybe Nepú had overheard him talking to Arthur and was trying to stop him from uncovering the truth with this tall tale. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You were the one who provided the poison to contaminate the village’s well.”

“I did no such thing.”

“Yes, you did,” Petran snarled towering over her. “Your kind is known for your little potions and magic tricks. You developed the poison, and that’s why you’re the only one who could provide Natalia with the antidote to keep the disease from consuming her father.”

“You are hallucinating, Vampire King,” Nepú replied. Disdain oozed out of her eyes but her voice was surprisingly calm. “Your chamberlain will return with a list of possible substances matching the one found in the water, and soon enough you will discover that none of those constituents are found in my jungle.” She exhaled an annoyed sigh. “This is not why I’m here.”

“So why in Hiad, are you wasting my time?”

She glared at him, then glanced in the direction of where Lady Natalia had headed in, and then back at him again.

Oh, right, that pursuit.
“That’s none of your business, witch,” Petran stated coldly. “Go back to your jungle before I offer you as dinner to my army.” He brushed past her and resumed on his course.

“If you go after her, you will trigger one of the most powerful prophecies of all Apa Sâmbetei, carved by The Mighty Soartas themselves.”

The macabre statement made him pause again. He was listening.

“A war so mighty no creature has ever seen before will ensue,” the witch carried on. “Century-old alliances will collapse, the sacred bound between mother and child will be broken, and the suffering will continue for generations to come. Is that what you want as your legacy, King of Vampires?”

“And all that will take place just because I talked to Lady Natalia?” Petran let out a bitter laugh.

“Divine forces are at play here,” Nepú snarled. “Do not scorn the Soarta Prophecies.”

Petran had had enough of this insolent woman telling him what to do or rather, what not to do. He hissed at her, baring his fangs and letting his rage seep out through his eyes, which were fully red by now.

“No, witch,” he growled, standing an inch from her. “
You
should be more careful not to scorn my intelligence.”

She lifted the book, almost shoving it in his face. “It is written in my scrolls and now I found confirmation in this ancient book. I do not lie.”

It was time to end this conversation. “I care not for one or the other, but now you’re trying my patience.” He stood tall and issued his own warning. “If I see you in these grounds again, or even a mile from Lady Natalia, I will make sure this book you so much care about is the last thing you ever read. Do you understand?”

She glared at him but didn’t utter a word. Good.

All the dimwitted woman had managed to do was make him even more determined to talk to Natalia.

Taking no further heed of the witch, Petran turned around and went back to the very same path he had been on before pointlessly being interrupted.

Chapter Sixteen

Talia was absolutely fuming. She had to get away from that den of vipers before she exploded. Queen Hillia and her mob of superficial wenches wouldn’t stop talking about their travels to Paris, their Parisian couture masters, their parties, and of course, how Talia’s choice of outfit had been unfitting for a duchess of her stature. By the gates of Hiad, women of the ton could be infuriatingly futile and mean at times. Even though Hillia held a higher-ranking title than Talia, she should have shown more courtesy to her. Being younger than the vampire wench and seeing that her father’s territory was smaller than that of her husband’s Hillia probably felt she was entitled to scorn her. How Talia would pay to see that nasty tart fall from her glass pedestal one day!

Someone called her name in the distance, but she ignored it. Exhaling a sharp breath, she picked up her pace and stomped around the archery contest without giving the delectable males a second glance. She needed some air, she needed space to calm her nerves otherwise she’d tell Hillia where she should put her fancy gown of hers, in front of everyone and disgrace her father. No, she couldn’t do that. Her father had worked hard to maintain his alliances and preserve the safety of their territory. She had to lower her chin down, seal her lips, and endure Hillia’s poisonous remarks with the decorum expected of—

A firm grasp wrapped around her arm and dragged her into the bushes.

Argh!

Caught by surprise, Talia lost her balance and fell into her assailant’s grip, unable to defend herself. Unlike the last time she endured a similar experience, no scent of wild mint enveloped her. Instant panic threatened to overwhelm her mind.

The man’s hand clasped hard over her mouth muffling her cries for help while dragging her further into the dark and very deserted forest.

Oh, Mighty Soartas, she had been so engrossed in her own bickering that she forgot to stay within the safety of the gaming grounds. But the sky would fall before she gave in so easily. She thrashed against her captor, kicking and biting whatever came her way.

“Ouch,” her assailant cried out. “Lady Natalia, please stop biting me!”

At the sound of Dimitri’s familiar voice, she paused her struggle. He also stopped and let her go.

“Dimitri!” she cried. “What in Hiad are you doing?”

“I’m so sorry, milady, but I have urgent—” 

The most guttural war cry Talia had ever heard interrupted his explanation. Out of nowhere, a shadow flew past her and crashed against her friend, pinning him to the ground. It all happened so fast it took her a few moments to register it. When she did, she realized the newcomer was punching poor Dimitri senseless. The attacker’s fur coat covered his large shoulders but allowed Talia a view of his fists connecting with her friend’s jaw. His pointed kalpak made of sable fur lay forgotten a few feet away.

What in Hiad? Was that Petran?

“Petran, stop,” she shouted, throwing herself at his back.

But stop, he didn’t. She tried to pull him away from Dimitri but miscalculated and fell over Petran’s shoulders, and in the spur of the moment, his elbow connected to her cheek as he prepared for another series of punches.

“Ouch,” she yelled falling back on the dirt floor.

“Natalia,” Petran cried out, finally ceasing his attack on her friend. He crouched beside her, holding her up. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“No,” Talia replied in anger. “But look at poor Dimitri!”

She unclasped herself from Petran’s embrace and crawled to her friend’s side. He was still flat on his back, his face covered in blood.

“Do you know this man?” Petran asked in surprise.

“Dimitri, can you hear me?” Talia asked the fallen rebel, and then cringed at his weak grunt for a reply.

The poor draco tried to stand up but his eyes rolled backwards and he plummeted back down.
Damned Vampire King!

Talia stood up and slapped Petran on the chest. “What were you thinking?”

“What was
I
thinking? What in Hiad was this moron thinking dragging you away like that? I thought you were being kidnapped.”

Talia had to admit he had a point. “Well, he wasn’t. And you almost killed him.”

Petran’s stance went rigid, his eyes becoming cold as ice. “And I will make sure to finish the job if he dares touch you like that again.”

Talia took a step back shocked at the bluntness of his warning, but deep inside a small voice cheered the hint of jealousy in his voice. 

“Ouch-aww,” Dimitri mumbled from the floor.

Talia crouched down by his side and tried to help him up, but he was too heavy for her. “Petran,” she uttered, giving him a
get down here at once and help me out
look.

The King of Vampires stared at her bluntly. For a moment, she thought he’d just stand there looking bored but then, he rolled his eyes—he actually rolled his eyes—and helped her out. In one swift movement, he pulled poor Dimitri up by the collar and made him stand on his own.

“Thank you,” Talia stated curtly. “Dimitri, what are you doing here?”

Her rebel friend tried to speak but only choked. 

Talia took a deep breath. “King Petran, could you please stop squeezing his neck?”

“Sorry,” he replied flatly, “I didn’t know he was so fragile.” Then he let her friend go, who promptly took a step away from the vampire.

“It’s an important matter,” Dimitri finally said, rubbing his neck.

“What important matter?” Talia prompted. He had come a long way to reach her. This was currently the epicenter of the Eastern Lordship. Every single monarch and lord in the Eastern Europe was present, not to mention each with a vast entourage of personal guards. It was the last place any outlaw should be roaming around in plain view.

But the said outlaw was looking wearily at Petran, and not answering her question.

“Oh, spit it out, mate,” Petran blurted. “You came into Kalaur’s very own den because your leader, Milek, told you to come find Lady Natalia, correct?”

With wide eyes, Dimitri gazed back and forth between Talia and Petran. “How does he know?”

“It does not matter, Dimitri, now please, don’t mind him, and tell me what happened to Ivan?” From the corner of her eye, she saw Petran’s jaw clutch at her reference to Milek’s first name.
Oh, well.

“We were at the mines releasing the serfs there when Balaur’s troops showed up out of nowhere.”

“Oh, Mighty Soartas,” Talia exclaimed.

“There were so many of them, and we didn’t have time to free the slaves before their magician, I believe his name is Vrajitor, started throwing his centipedes at us. They glue themselves onto our backs then lock our wings in place!”

Talia covered her mouth in horror. “Like the ones Ivan’s sister told us about?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “But they are much worse than what she described. I don’t know how he does it, milady, but the few dracos who tried to shift and fly away, had their wings cut off straight away.”

“Oh, dear.”

“What happened then?” Petran asked gravely. Apparently, he was as curious as she was.

“Well, chaos ensued,” Dimitri replied, continuing with his story. “The serfs ran in all directions trying to escape. Seeing we were outnumbered, Milek ordered us to run as well. We tried but Balaur’s men cornered us…”

“And?” Talia was holding her heart in her hands.

“Milek and I managed to get in a few good punches, but Vrajitor pulled the trigger.”

“Is he dead?” Petran asked, voicing out the question Talia wouldn’t dare emit.

“We managed to get him out of there,” Dimitri answered. “But he’s in very bad shape.”

Talia exhaled a long breath of relief. Ivan wasn’t dead, and although he was badly injured, at least he was still alive. There was still hope. “Take me to him.”

Dimitri nodded and lifted his hand to take her elbow, but it never reached its destination.

“Not so fast, draco,” Petran growled, shoving Dimitri away from Talia. It looked like just a flick of his wrist but her friend flew back crashing against a nearby tree.

“Petran, what in Hiad?” Talia complained.

“If you think I’m going to let you go by yourself with this thug, you’re sadly mistaken,” he replied in the most annoying even tone.

“This thug is my friend.”

“No,” Petran stated.

“Petran, Ivan is badly injured,” Talia added, trying to bring reason to a most frustratingly hardheaded vampire. “He needs help and fast.”

“I don’t care if he’s on the brink of his life, Natalia,” the vampire in question declared. “I won’t let you go by yourself.”

“Fine,” Talia consented. “So, you’re coming with us.”

Petran snorted. “No way.”

“Well, I’m going to Ivan’s aid, whether you like it or not,” she stated. “If you say you won’t let me go alone with Dimitri, then you better grab your flashy hat off the floor and keep up.”

She didn’t wait for his answer or gave him time to retort. She took Dimitri by the elbow and started walking away.