CHAPTER 1 - MEDRA

Autumntide

Ten Months Earlier

The leaves were turning color when he found me. The last vestiges of summer were fleeing as my imprisonment began.

I had died destroying a corrupt god in my own world. I had sacrificed to save the ones I loved. I had gone willingly to my end. I had gone with no regrets.

And I had expected the end to stay the end.

Fate was cruel.

I took my first gasping breath, feeling my soul fluttering violently about within my body, as if uncertain it had a true place there, before finally settling uncomfortably, as if unwillingly accepting we were stuck here together.

But where was here? This was not my world. This was not Aercanum. I could sense that from the very air. It reeked with the tinge of iron and ash. Blood and death.

With a groan, I shifted my weight, the movement sending ripples of pain down my back. Something was pinning my legs down.

I stirred again and, this time, glanced downwards. A chill ran through me. Not some thing . Some one . Someone dead lay atop me, weighing me down.

I took a deep breath to steady myself. But that only made it worse as the scent of decay filled my nostrils more strongly. I gagged.

My ears pricked at a faint sound.

Then came another.

I strained to decipher the muffled murmurs. Footsteps marched against hard ground.

People were coming.

I sat up and pushed at the heavy body that had fallen over my legs, struggling to free myself. Should I call for help? Or hope they'd pass by without seeing me?

The voices were growing closer.

Abruptly, a figure appeared on the edge of my vision, bouncing up the mounds of bodies like a large weasel.

It was a man. Small and wiry. He had a smirk upon his lips, revealing a row of ratlike yellowed teeth.

I lay still, hoping he would think me just another dead body on the heap.

But it was too late. He must have caught my movement before I'd seen him. With a quick rattish leap, he was on top of me, pinning me down.

I could smell the stink of his rancid breath as he lowered his face to mine and sniffed long and deep.

"Barnabas!"

The voice cracked the air like a whip. Loud. Deep. Commanding.

The man sitting astride me froze, his face torn in indecision.

"Yes, Master?" His voice became like the slithering of serpents. Odious and simpering.

"What have you found?"

An intake of breath. The man's face was very close to my ear. He inhaled again, drawing in my scent as if it held the fragrance of a rare wine.

And then, to my horror, his tongue snaked out. Red and foul-smelling, the twisting flesh approached my neck.

"Barnabas." The voice was sharper. "I asked you a question and I expect a swift response."

The tongue slid back into the rat man's mouth. I saw the look of disappointment in his eyes as he begrudgingly responded, "This one's alive."

A pause. "Impossible. All the others were dead. The place has been on fire for days."

There was a glint in the man named Barnabas's eyes I didn't like.

I held my breath as we looked back at one another. Then he smiled.

"Even so, she's alive, milord. And she smells"—he sniffed the air again like a hungry mongrel, and I flinched—" exquisite ."

He lowered his mouth to my neck again, and I shouted, raising my hands to push him away as I saw the glint of sharp teeth.

"Get off her," the other man–the lord–growled. His voice was predatory, threatening. I struggled to get a sense of how old he was. Younger than Barnabas, I thought. "Not a taste. Not another sniff. That's an order. Bring her to me. Now."

Barnabas whined so quietly only I could hear, like a dog fighting against its master's chain.

"Just a small taste. Just a little taste, pretty one," he whispered. "You smell so good. Better than anything I've ever had. When he has you, he won't let you go. I'll never get another chance at you again."

His lips parted and two sharp canine teeth appeared, sharp and elongated. Larger than I had ever seen on a man–or a woman, for that matter. He barred them like a wolf might do with fangs and began to lower his face to my neck.

Panic surged. I flailed, lifting my arms up to hit him. He shocked me with his speed and strength, forcing my arms back down almost instantly.

I was weaker than I'd been. From my arrival or the ordeal that preceded it, I wasn't sure which.

I kept struggling against him and felt his frustration as he tried to keep me pinned.

His face loomed over my neck. His teeth were so close. I shut my eyes, my entire body tensing for the inevitable attack.

Instead, there was a soft crunching sound.

I felt a wetness on my face and opened my eyes.

Barnabas's body was still on top of me. But his head was gone.

Letting out a gasp of horror, I sat up and shoved his corpse off me, glancing to the side to see his decapitated head rolling down the mound of bodies, a bolt embedded in his skull.

I wiped my arm across my face, trying to clean off the vermin's blood.

Which was when I realized I was very inconveniently naked.

"Get up. Come down here."

I gritted my teeth. It seemed I was about to exchange one captor for another. And this one didn't sound the sniveling sort.

"I'd much rather prefer to stay here," I called. "Be on your way. I require no aid."

There was silence for a moment. Then I heard a burst of voices. The man was not alone. My words had evidently shocked the group of people who surrounded him.

"Silence." The voices below fell silent. "It was not a request," the voice came again. "But if you decline to do my bidding for a second time, I'll gladly have one of my men carry you down."

I rose slowly to my feet and heard gasps from below, whether at the sight of Barnabas's blood dripping down me or the shock of a woman's naked flesh–who can say. They were mostly men, so likely the latter.

I lifted my hand to shield my eyes from the hazy sun which had half-peeked out from behind the clouds. Focusing my eyes, I saw a line of soldiers–some standing, others on horseback. All wore a distinctive style of red and black armor.

A man sat at the front on a black steed. He held a crossbow in his hands. I eyed the weapon with interest. It must have been a powerful bow indeed to decapitate with a single shot.

Then I looked up at the man's face and all thoughts of the bow left my mind.

He was striking. All sharp angles and pale skin. Lethal and alluring.

He was also much younger than I'd expected. Closer to my own age.

This man had saved my life. Killed one of his own men to protect me.

But as I saw the arrogant expression painting his handsome features, the cruel twist of his thin lips, I felt no gratitude.

Golden-blond hair framed a sharp jawline. He had a lean, elegant build, all muscular grace. Nevertheless, there was something about him that made me think he had been a frail and skinny boy once.

One of his features stood out from the others. His aquiline, hawkish nose. It was out of place. Too pointed, too large. Too less-than-perfect. But if anything, it made him look even more aristocratic, enhancing his haughty expression. It complemented the fine angles of his cheekbones and jaw and added to his wolfish air.

Some might even have called him unattractive. He certainly wasn't my type. I preferred a bulkier build. Darker hair. Still, I couldn't deny there was something about him. A sense of barely coiled power and dangerous cunning that simmered beneath the surface of his facade of tight control.

As I stumbled down the mountain of rotting corpses, he slid off his horse. Holding the crossbow in his left hand, he strode towards me. He carried himself like someone unused to having his authority questioned.

Piercing gray eyes glinted and I felt myself being assessed from head to toe. His eyes lingered slowly on every inch of my flesh, stripping away all of my modesty.

He took a step closer towards me, sniffing the air in a way that reminded me unbearably of Barnabas. I caught the scent of green apples wafting off him, just before I snapped and backed away from him. Later, I would wonder about that. He smelled fresh. Nothing like Barnabas or the rancid corpses.

Still, I couldn't bear that gaze raking over me any longer.

"Take a good, long look, why don't you?" I tossed my long hair over one shoulder and was disconcerted to feel it fall on bare skin. "I assure you, it's the last one you'll ever get."

One brave soldier hooted with laughter somewhere down the line. I grinned towards the soldiers, daring them to laugh again.

A glare from their young commander silenced them all in an instant.

The young man sneered. "I was trying to understand Barnabas's strange fascination. You smell absolutely revolting. But then, I suppose lying on a pile of corpses tends to do that to one."

He turned to one of the soldiers. "Get her some clothes." He snapped his fingers. "No, on second thought, give her your cloak. Take it off. Now."

I saw the soldier's eyes widen. "But, my lord, my prince," the man whispered, glancing at me surreptitiously. "You saw what she is. Her hair... She bears the mark..."

A prince, was he? He was certainly haughty-looking enough to be one.

"I know what she is," the commander responded. "Better than you do, I have no doubt. Now give her your fucking cloak. We're taking her back with us."

Hurriedly, the soldier unfastened his cloak and tossed it over to me. I caught it gratefully, trying to ignore the look in his eyes. Fear or revulsion, I couldn't quite tell.

"Prince or not, you're quite mistaken if you think I'm going anywhere with you," I declared as I accepted the cloak and wrapped it around me. "Thank you for the cloak, but I'll find my own way home from this place."

Part of that was true, at least. This wasn't home. I doubted I'd ever get back there again. But I could leave this hellhole into which I'd fallen.

A moment later I found myself wishing I hadn't spoken.

The young commander had mounted his horse. Now he turned to look down at me disdainfully. His nose, I noticed, was not only hawk-like but crooked, as if it had been broken before, perhaps more than once.

There was something about him that made me unable to look away. His eyes locked with mine in a silent challenge.

"If only the decision was yours to make. It isn't. But if you plan to make this difficult..." He gestured to another soldier. "Find her proper clothes. Then bind her."

And they did.

We rode towards a city, a strange procession of soldiers, horses, and me, staggering in front of the commander's horse, my wrists chained together as I trod over uneven ground.

I could feel the prince's eyes on me, sense his cold amusement each time I tripped and stumbled.

I'd already developed a seething hatred for my new captor, but I managed not to turn my head and look up. Not once.

Eventually though, he spoke.

"Where do you come from?"

I ignored him.

"I asked you a question. Clearly you didn't belong in that place. So where do you come from? What were you doing there?"

I heard the snap of a whip and flinched.

"Don't make me ask again."

I bit my lip to keep the hysterical rise of laughter inside. Would this man truly whip me? I, who had until recently, been a princess of Camelot and a royal fae.

I might as well reply, I thought. Not with the truth though, of course.

"I don't know," I lied.

I wasn't about to tell him I'd dropped in from another world after destroying my own grandfather, who may or may not have been the closest thing my world had to a god. And besides, whatever I'd used to accomplish that feat, I was pretty sure hadn't managed to come along with me.

I hadn't wanted to fully acknowledge it before, but the truth was... I felt weaker. Oddly empty. Dare I say it? Mortal.

Still, there was obviously something about me that had drawn these soldiers' attention. They had said I was different. What was it that marked me out?

"Why are you taking me with you? Do you always accost innocent women you find on the road?"

He was silent for a moment. "You speak as if you don't know who I am. What were you doing in that place?"

"I got lost," I said blithely. "And I don't. Know who you are, I mean. Should I? Know you? I mean, besides knowing you're an asshole?"

He grunted as if annoyed, but didn't raise the whip.

"It's unbelievable to me that you can truly be so ignorant. But then, I suppose you'll find out everything you need to know soon enough," he said cryptically. Then, "Oh, fuck," I heard him mutter.

I looked up to see a soldier jogging towards us. He was of a small, frail build and wore round wire frames lined with glass on his face. Spectacles. I had seen some of the nobles back home wear them before. I gazed at him with curiosity and he stared right back at me, as if completely agog.

"My prince," he gasped. "I was told you had found..." He eyed me. "Found a woman of interest."

"I suppose you could say that," the prince drawled. "She's not that interesting, Lucius. Quite dull, in fact."

I ignored the jab.

"But... her hair," the soldier called Lucius wheezed. "The color. It's incredible. Absolutely incredible, my lord."

That again? So it was my hair. I touched a hand to my head. I'd been told my fae mother had vibrant purple tresses. Not that I'd ever seen her hair. She had died giving birth to me.

In comparison, my hair seemed to have settled into a dull, rusty red.

More than once I'd thought of carrots when I looked at myself in the mirror at night. Right now, the curls were tangled and bushy. My fingers tugged at them but it was pointless. I needed a brush, a comb. And a hot bath. At the thought of being clean and warm, a slight moan escaped my lips.

"Prince Drakharrow, do you have any idea what this means?" Lucius whispered loudly. I had begun to think of him as a kind of secretary. He was certainly toadying up enough to be one. "You must take her before the court. Why, she might even be..."

"We'll wait to speak of it," the prince-commander interrupted. "I've already sent a messenger ahead of us," he admitted, almost begrudgingly.

There was a tension in his voice that told me he knew very well what the other man meant. He just didn't want to acknowledge it. Not yet. Why? What was it about me?

"Excellent news, my lord. Excellent. I knew I could count upon your wisdom." I felt the toadying little secretary's eyes drilling into me. "I can only imagine the stir this will cause. Just look at her, my prince–her hair is truly... well, red ."

"Yes, I can see that, Lucius," Prince Drakharrow snapped. "I have eyes. Red hair. It is indeed red. Well, we're bringing her back with us. The court will investigate the meaning of her appearance and settle the matter. It's all very tedious. Now we must return early without finishing our investigation into the matter of the village. But what can we do? I live to serve." I could almost hear his eyes rolling in annoyance.

"Pardon me. Am I boring you?" I hissed, turning to look back at him. I yanked on my chains. "I suppose this is just an ordinary day for you. Leading people around in chains."

He ignored me.

"Very well. As you say, my lord," the secretary-soldier said hastily, also ignoring my outburst but shooting me a shocked glance. "It is a true honor to be in your company as you return with such a very prestigious captive."

"I'm not a fucking captive ," I snarled, spinning about to face the man.

The secretary gasped and backed away, tripping on a rock and nearly toppling over in the process.

Behind me, Drakharrow snickered. The first sign he might be something resembling a human that I'd seen. I looked back at him and glared.

"Do try to keep your footing, Lucius," the young lord drawled. "She's just another blightborn, not a unicorn."

"Indeed not! She may be far more important than any mythological creature of legend," Lucius squeaked as he stretched out his hands to regain his balance. "Though of course, there is a connection between..."

"This conversation is growing tedious. Look." The blond man pointed ahead. "We're nearing the city. The matter will be settled soon."

Lucius scuttled away, still muttering excitedly to himself.

I looked ahead to where he was indicating and drew in my breath. We had come to the top of a high rolling hill. Below us lay a city.

I had come from a castle which floated in the sky. I had used powerful magics to bring it down to earth and kill the ones who dwelled within it.

Already that seemed so long ago. So impossible.

Yet despite the wonders I had witnessed, I could honestly say I had seen nothing quite like what lay before us.

The city itself was built on a smaller scale than I had expected, but nevertheless looked grand and affluent. It lay affixed to the edge of a dark and restless ocean, where tumultuous waters splashed against white sands. Beyond the edge of the city limits, three enormous iron bridges stretched out, leading towards three rocky islands.

On the first island, perched like a white nest on a dark cliff, lay a structure built from bright, gleaming stone. It glistened upwards like a luminous pearl against the roiling gray waves and rapidly dimming sky. Soaring narrow spires filled its center while slender, graceful columns rose around the structure.

On the second island, a castle of deep onyx-colored towers and arches twisted skywards in shapes and at angles which should have been impossible, reminding me of the sharp, pointed fangs of a great stone beast.

The third and final island held the largest building of all and one which I suspected might be the oldest. Looking as if it had arisen from a jumbled mix of eras and styles, it resembled a castle or a great fortress. The structure sprawled like the web of a spider, spiraling outwards from a cluster of six towers, each of a different material and design. The only thing which provided any sense of continuity to the building, whatever it might be, was its color. All of the materials that had been used were of a dark crimson shade, nearly black.

I schooled my features carefully, trying not to disclose my impressions. If my captor could play at boredom, so could I.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to sound careless. "What is the name of that town ahead?"

"Town?" I caught the note of annoyance in his voice. "That is no mere town."

I shrugged. "City, then. What does it matter?"

"What does it matter?"

To my shock, I heard him dismounting behind me. In another moment, he was at my elbow, marching by my side.

"That, girl, is no town, but the capital city of Sangratha." I could feel his eyes on my face. "Honestly, if you are a spy for the borderlands, you're the worst one I've ever seen. How could anyone not know of Veilmar?"

"Oh? And you catch a lot of spies, do you?" I looked him up and down, letting my eyes linger on his black cloak and impeccable armor. "You don't look the sort to get your hands dirty."

"You don't know anything about me, as we've already determined," he retorted.

I tilted my head. "I know you're noble. That you're used to giving orders, not following them. That you're used to people doing your bidding–instead of you having to work to get what you want. I'd say I know enough."

He was silent.

"That man you killed. Barnabas," I ventured. "There was something strange about him."

He snorted.

"I mean, beyond the obvious," I snapped. "His teeth. They were... elongated. I think he was going to... bite me."

The pale-haired prince burst into laughter. "Do you now?"

"I don't see what's so funny about..." I started to say. Then I stopped.

He was smirking down at me coldly–smiling, if you can call it that, for the first time. With his lips parted slightly, I could see that his incisors were even longer than Barnabas's had been, and they narrowed into sharp, delicate points.

"Fangs," I said hollowly. "You have fangs."

He sneered. "Don't tell me you haven't heard of highbloods where you come from or I really will wonder if you fell from the sky. Or perhaps hit your head too hard against a rock." He narrowed his eyes. "Or have drunk a little too much?" A hand darted out and he tapped me on the side of the head, hard.

"Ow! I haven't had anything to drink, you fool," I exclaimed.

"I'm the fool but you're the one with naught in your head." He shook his head.

"I read a passage in a book once..." I began.

"Oh, you can read? I'm speechless."

I ignored him. "It spoke of creatures with sharp teeth that drank blood. They could not go out under the light of day. They attacked at night, sucking their victims dry. They led long lives." I snuck a look at him, hoping beyond hope that he'd tell me the book was mistaken.

"Well, three out of five isn't bad," he remarked. "We can walk in the light, as you can well see." He pointed upwards at the fading evening sun, which had come out from behind the clouds. "We lead long lives."

"But you... drink people?" I stared at him, trying to keep the horror from my tone. "You drink blood?"

He smiled, cruelly and slowly. "We are vampires. It's what we do."

"So you're what? Taking me back to your people to be drained?"

He stretched his arms over his head and I tried to keep my eyes off the muscles rippling beneath the dark cloak. "Perhaps. Who knows what they'll do with you? It's an honor to be drained, you know."

I couldn't tell if he was joking. Somehow I doubted it. "You're a monster."

He smirked. "Stop, you're hurting my feelings, blightborn."

"Don't pretend you have any," I snapped.

"You're right. They're a weakness, so I won't."

"Why do you need to take me anywhere? Why not leave me alone where you found me?"

His lips twisted. "On a heap of dead bodies? I should have thought we were doing you a favor."

I raised my wrists. "Ah, yes, if only all men were as courteous as you," I said sarcastically, clanging the metal chains together. "I'm quite killed with kindness."

His mouth twitched. "Many women would beg to be in your position. Perhaps not while walking on quite such a dusty road..."

"I don't wish to hear of your disgusting sexual exploits," I said, making a face of disgust. "Save your bragging for your men. They won't care if you tell tall tales about the women you tie to your bed."

"I have no need to make up stories," he snapped, sounding irked.

I tossed my hair over my shoulder but said nothing.

I could feel him staring at the red tresses for a moment. Finally, he said, "You asked why we're taking you with us? Well, you heard what Lucius said."

"That it's because of my hair? A rather stupid reason."

He snorted. "I agree."

I glanced at him. "You do? Well, then... Let me go."

"Unfortunately, there's more to it than my preference in hair color. I might think your rust-colored locks unsightly," he said snidely. "But it's not about my personal preference."

"Thank the stars for that," I said under my breath. "I have no wish for you to find me desirable. My lord ." I let the last two words drip with sarcasm.

He ignored me.

After a moment or two, I had to ask. "Fine. What else then? Besides my hair? You said I was a blightborn. What does that mean?"

He glanced at me. "All mortals are blightborn. You clearly aren't a vampire. But there are... differences. You aren't an ordinary mortal. Your ears for one. They're unusual."

I touched a finger to the tip of one ear, feeling the point. I looked at his. "Yours are round."

"All of ours our round," he said, gesturing to the soldiers in front of us. "I've never seen pointed ears like yours. They stand out."

"Is that all? So I was born with red hair and odd ears! And that's a reason to kidnap me?" I said, my voice beginning to raise.

"There's more," he said slowly, his eyes holding mine. He looked up and down my body and despite myself, I felt my cheeks turning red. "Other aspects of your appearance."

I bristled. "Like what?"

"Besides, I didn't kidnap you," he said, turning around to mount his horse once more. Apparently this conversation was at an end. "You were never yours in the first place."

My jaw dropped. "I beg your pardon?"

"You belong to Sangratha. You belong to any highblood who sees fit to take you. As Lucius said, it's an honor to be noticed by one of the Blessed Blood." He smiled, his lips tight. "You should be honored."

Sangratha. Apparently it was the name of this land.

Part of me longed to ask this so-called prince other questions. Such as his name. Or the meaning of the places that lay ahead of us on the three islands. What were they? Were we going there?

But I decided our hostile banter had gone on long enough. I licked my lips, already chapped from hours of walking without water or respite, and walked on in silence.

As we skirted around the edge of the city of Veilmar, soon enough it became clear where our real course lay.

The island in the center of the three. The castle of onyx stone.