5. A Curse and a Blessing

CHAPTER 5

A Curse and a Blessing

B rynleigh was in the middle of an internal debate about how bad it would look if she slipped into the Void to escape this wearisome ceremony when a high-pitched scream cut through the Chancellor's monotonous speech. Was it bad that, for a moment, she'd been happy because it meant she could focus on something other than the history of the Choosing?

As soon as the ceremony had started, Brynleigh was looking forward to its end. Not only was the speech ridiculously tedious, but all the women wore floor-length black strapless gowns and four-inch stilettos. The shoes seemed designed to inflict agony upon the wearer's feet, and Brynleigh wanted to take them off as soon as possible.

Another scream came seconds after the first.

Brynleigh's head snapped back, her eyes narrowing as she searched for the source of the cry. Her shadows pulsed within her, and she let a few slip as her fingers curled into fists. The damned shadows cloaking the middle of the ballroom, designed to keep them from seeing the men, made seeing anything at all nearly impossible.

There.

At the back of the ballroom, by the exit, a guest was on the ground. Even through the shadows, Brynleigh made out their prone form .

Her nostrils flared, and her heart raced.

Blood .

She'd recognize the scent anywhere. It was her life, after all. The source of her immortality. Her everything .

A snarl rumbled through the elevated box, and it took a moment for Brynleigh to realize the sound came from her chest. She stared at the floor, warring with herself.

Half of her—the monstrous, deadly, violent creature built for death itself—wanted to vault over the railing. She'd summon her wings and make it onto the floor in one piece. The other half—the rational, logical one—remembered that she wasn't there to feed. It urged her to leave before she did something stupid and endangered her entire mission.

The other women were yelling, and Brynleigh could've sworn someone was crying, but their voices were muffled.

Brynleigh battled the dueling desires within her. Like all vampires, blood was her weakness and her strength. A curse and a blessing. The giver of her life and the pulsing, never-ending need in her veins.

Her fangs sliced into her tongue as she stared at the growing pool of red on the ground below. It wasn't that far. Two, maybe three stories. She could be down there in a flash. Her shadows would protect her while she fed. She could?—

"Ladies!" a guard shouted, his commanding voice snapping Brynleigh from her thoughts.

She jerked her attention away from the body, turning to face the soldier.

"Follow me," he ordered. "I have orders to return you to the Crimson Lounge immediately."

A sigh of relief slipped past Brynleigh's lips as she moved towards the guard. Each step took her further away from the crimson pool of temptation.

Three more guards waited in the hallway. Two took the front, and the other pair flanked them from behind.

The predator within Brynleigh had awoken at the scent of blood; now, it was on high alert. It prowled within her, writhing like the shadows in her veins.

She jumped when something brushed against her arm .

"What's going on?" Hallie's voice shook as she hugged her arms around herself. Her pale wings twitched behind her.

Brynleigh's stomach twisted at the sound of the Fortune Elf's voice. Hallie sounded so much like…

No .

Brynleigh refused to think about that. She couldn't risk letting those memories take hold. Not right now. She needed to stay alert and present.

Still, she could take pity on Hallie and try to protect her. The Fortune Elf seemed too frail for this world, as if all the inequality and violence surrounding them would break her.

Brynleigh leaned in. "I'm not sure," she whispered. "I think someone was shot."

That was the most plausible explanation for the amount of blood. Even though they'd moved far enough away that the scent was gone, Brynleigh's fangs still burned. She needed to feed, and soon.

In the old days, when the Kingdom of Eleyta was ruled by vampires, Isvana's children used to have Sources. They were able to drink from the vein whenever they wanted. Now, that kind of behavior was frowned upon. Blood banks were the intermediary between vampires and the vital liquid they needed to survive.

For a fee, of course.

Paying for blood was considered more "humane" than biting. In fact, Brynleigh had never actually bitten and fed from anyone before. She was fairly certain that the blood banks were another way for the Representatives to keep vampires in check.

When creatures of the moon drank blood that didn't come directly from the vein, their powers were significantly reduced. Oh, their blessings of wings and shadows remained intact, but as Jelisette so often told her progeny, vampires had other gifts in the past. One of their blood ancestors had even been able to read minds. Brynleigh had never met Estrella de la Point, but she'd heard of her impressive skills.

Estrella, along with many of the vampires who'd lived in the Four Kingdoms, had voluntarily entered a deep sleep when the Republic was founded. Tales were told of the older vampires, who'd grown weary of life and required a rest. Their location was a well-kept secret, known only by a select few .

Hallie gasped, and several of the other women glanced her in direction. "Shot?" Panic flared in the Fortune Elf's eyes, and she stumbled.

Brynleigh caught Hallie's arm and righted the elf before she fell. "Don't draw attention," she cautioned.

Brynleigh knew better than most that flying under the radar was the best way to get through life. She didn't need anyone looking too closely at her.

"Oh gods," the Fortune Elf moaned. "This was supposed to be a safe place." Hallie wrung her hands in front of her, and worry leaked into her voice. "I never thought someone would get shot!"

So much for keeping her voice down. By the time Hallie spoke the last words, she was yelling.

Valentina appeared out of nowhere. "Aren't you a Fortune Elf?" she sneered. "You should've Seen this coming."

Hallie seemed to shrink in on herself. "That's not… it doesn't work…" Her wings flapped, and she was as white as a sheet of paper. "I can't… the paths of the future don't reveal themselves like that."

"Leave her alone," Brynleigh snapped. "She's in shock."

Not everyone was used to death like Brynleigh. Hallie obviously didn't know how horrible life could be, which was a blessing, in a way.

Brynleigh's innocence had drowned along with her family.

The mean fae wrinkled her nose. "Oh, I see how it is. The Fortune Elf has acquired a fangy bodyguard. Two misfits finding solace in each other. The bloodsucker and the commoner."

"Fuck off," Brynleigh snarled as she reached out and drew Hallie towards her. The elf trembled as she drew in massive gulps of air. "Go find someone else to harass."

Valentina's violet eyes widened, and she bared her elongated canines. "You vile blood-drinking bitch. Do you know who I am?"

Brynleigh raised a brow and haughtily replied, "You look like dinner to me."

A very nasty dinner whose blood probably tasted like putrid garbage. But Brynleigh didn't care. She didn't know what kind of fae Valentina was, whether she took after her mother's elemental abilities or her father's, whoever he was, but right now, she didn't care. Her control was already hanging on by a thread .

Valentina should know better than to pick a fight with a vampire already inflamed by the scent of blood.

Brynleigh released Hallie. The Fortune Elf stumbled back as a growl rumbled through the vampire. Somewhere outside of herself, Brynleigh was aware of the other women stepping back.

The guards were nowhere to be seen.

The Chancellor's daughter didn't move. She smirked as if she knew a secret no one else did. "You really have no idea who I am, do you?"

Valentina's eyes glimmered with violence, and Brynleigh knew she should drop this, but she couldn't seem to stop herself from saying, "Other than a bitch?" Brynleigh snarled and drew shadows around her. "No."

Valentina opened her palm. A flame flickered above her hand.

Instinctively, Brynleigh stumbled back.

Of course, Valentina was a fucking fire fae. Why not? That was the worst possible scenario. Just once, Brynleigh would like for things to go her way. Being in the Choosing with someone who could kill her with a flick of her wrist was a sick, twisted joke.

Vampires were essentially immortal, but three things could cause them significant harm and even death: silver, wooden stakes, and flames. Long ago, before electricity, vampires lit their homes with Light Elf magic to avoid fire entirely.

Despite her desire to remain strong, Brynleigh trembled at the sight of the small yellow flame. She hated that her stomach curled in on itself at the sight, and she despised the icy fear running through her veins.

She was a vampire, a true immortal that would never Fade, but this instilled fear deep within her.

And Valentina? Her horrible, red mouth twisted as an awful, mocking laugh left her lips. The sound was like nails running down a chalkboard.

Right then and there, the fire fae secured a spot at the top of Brynleigh's "to-kill" list.

"Not so brave now, are you?" Valentina sneered and took a step towards Brynleigh.

The deadly flame was now a foot tall.

Brynleigh staggered back and slammed into a wall. She didn't look away from the fire. Her fingers flexed, and she released even more shadows.

She prepared to fight.

If it came down to it, Brynleigh would do whatever it took to survive, including killing the Chancellor's daughter. She was aware that wouldn't go over well—honestly, she'd be lucky if she spent the rest of her immortal life in a prohiberis-lined prison—but she was being threatened. Rational thought had no place here.

"Ladies!" Matron Lilith screeched, appearing in the corner of Brynleigh's vision. "Enough!"

A long moment passed before Valentina smirked. She extinguished the flame and rolled her shoulders. "Don't worry, Matron," she said in a sickly-sweet voice. "I was just showing my new friend what I can do."

Boiling lava replaced the ice running through Brynleigh's veins. "We're not friends," she snarled. "I'll never be your friend."

The fire fae simply shrugged and sauntered into the lounge as if she hadn't been threatening to kill Brynleigh moments before.

Matron Lilith looked at Brynleigh and shook her head. She frowned. "You shouldn't let her get beneath your skin, dear. It will only make things worse."

Brynleigh knew she should answer—she'd been raised to understand the importance of manners, especially when dealing with one's elders—but her control was rapidly deteriorating. She dipped her head, following Valentina into the Crimson Lounge.

The other women were discussing the shooting, but Brynleigh ignored them and headed straight for the bar.

The Death Elf who was wiping down the counter looked up as Brynleigh approached. "Miss?"

"Blood, please," Brynleigh rasped, gripping the ruby countertop.

Thank Isvana, the elf took one look at her face and gulped. He ducked beneath the bar, pulling out two red bags. "Warm or cold?"

At that moment, Brynleigh didn't have any time to wait for the blood to heat up. "Cold," she replied. "Please hurry."

The bartender nodded and ran a knife along the top of the bags. He poured the crimson liquid into a goblet and slid it over. "Here you go, miss. "

Brynleigh snatched the cup and took a long swallow. The blood settled in her stomach, taking the most brittle edge off her hunger. "Thank you," she breathed.

The bartender nodded as Brynleigh drained the contents of her cup. The anger subsided as she downed the blood. The burning in her fangs cooled, and although she still desired to teach Valentina a lesson, rationality ruled her thoughts again.

"Can I have some more?" she asked.

The elf nodded, grabbing another bag as the door opened. Brynleigh watched over her shoulder as Matron Lilith entered, flanked by two guards. Both tall guards were broad of shoulder, muscular, and had scary-looking guns holstered at their hips. Their matching brown eyes swept through the room, and Brynleigh would've bet good money that they were brothers.

"Here you go." The bartender handed the goblet to Brynleigh.

Matron Lilith sat on one of the crimson couches, folding her hands in her lap. "As I'm sure you're all aware, the Opening Ceremony didn't exactly go as planned."

"No shit," someone snarkily replied.

Brynleigh didn't see who it was.

"What happened?" This question came from Esme, who had her arm wrapped around Hallie.

The Matron sighed and signaled for one of the guards to step forward. "Harper will explain."

The soldier cleared his throat. "This morning, we received a tip that there may be a threat on the Chancellor's life."

A flurry of horrified gasps ran through the room.

"What?" someone exclaimed.

"Who would do such a thing?"

Valentina paled, and for a moment, Brynleigh felt bad for her. She imagined hearing that someone wanted your mother dead wasn't pleasant. Then she remembered the way the fire fae had threatened to kill her, and the pity was dissipated like a morning mist.

If Chancellor Rose was half as much of a bitch as her daughter, it was surprising that it had taken someone this long to threaten her life. Brynleigh knew better than most that there was no safe place in the Republic of Balance. Not really.

"There's no reason to fear." Harper's voice was matter-of-fact.

"No reason to fear?" Hallie questioned. "Someone was shot!"

Brynleigh was surprised by the force in the Fortune Elf's voice, considering that Hallie had seemed close to fainting a few minutes ago. She was happy to see her new friend fighting back, though. Maybe Hallie did have enough mettle to survive in this cold, harsh world.

"I assure you; we are equipped to deal with any threats," Harper replied. "The woman who was shot was a rebel. She will no longer be a problem."

The undercurrents of his words were evident: the rebel was dead, and dead women couldn't cause problems.

Cold-hearted. To the point. Jelisette would approve.

"Due to the unusual circumstances, the Opening Ceremony is over." Matron Lilith gestured to the guards. "From now on, there will be added security around the Hall of Choice."

"There's no need to be worried," Harper added. "This is a precautionary measure, nothing more."

A hand raised in the corner.

"Yes, Calliope?" Matron Lilith nodded.

"What about the Choosing?" Calliope perched on the edge of a red sofa, twisting green threads of magic through her fingers. The Earth Elf's black hair had slipped from its bun on the hurried walk back to the lounge, and several strands dangled around her face.

Brynleigh stiffened. She hadn't even considered that such an act of violence could make the Chancellor halt the Choosing. She hadn't even met Ryker yet. She couldn't wait another decade to avenge her family.

For some vampires, ten years wasn't a long time, but Brynleigh was young enough that time still had meaning for her. Ten years might as well have been a lifetime. If the Choosing ended now, the captain would return to hiding, and then what would Brynleigh do?

Twisting her necklace through her fingers, Brynleigh forced herself to breathe. Not for the oxygen, since vampires didn't precisely require air to live, but for normalcy.

The Choosing couldn't end prematurely. It just couldn't .

A memory flickered across Brynleigh's mind. Her heart raced. Her stomach knotted. Flashes of too-sudden lightning and a deluge of rain forced their way out of the compartment where she kept them. She shoved them back down.

After what felt like hours but was probably a few seconds, Lilith smiled. "The Choosing will continue as planned. Chancellor Rose believes stopping it would give the rebels what they want."

Brynleigh's legs trembled in relief.

"And we're safe?" Hallie asked.

"Extremely," replied the Matron. "There has never been a single participant injury or death in the history of the Choosing. This one won't be any different."

Calliope asked a follow-up question, but Brynleigh didn't hear her. Relief liquefied the vampire's limbs, and she barely reached the empty seat on the couch next to Esme.

The Light Elf glanced at her, lifting a manicured brow in question, but Brynleigh shook her head. "I'm fine," she murmured.

And she would be. Rebels be damned, Brynleigh de la Point wouldn't be leaving the Hall of Choice without a ring on her finger.