17. Cage

CHAPTER 17

CAGE

"There has to be something in here," I grumble as I swat away centuries' worth of cobwebs. Navigating the underground archives of the Sanguinis Palace is grueling work.

Dangerous, too, given the fact that I'm a sworn enemy of the royal family.

My family is no less royal, if I'm being fair. Royalty is determined by the blessings from our God. Whoever is the strongest takes the throne. When it comes to the Van Drakken and Sanguinis bloodlines, we both have different strengths that make us comparable.

I was always taught that Strigoi like Sabre are pompous weaklings not suited to the throne. But after trying to kill him and losing, only to be on the blade-end of his mercy, I have learned that strength is not always about physical prowess.

Sabre is smart. Incredibly smart. And passionate. That's why I fell for him and why I can't allow him to go through with the asinine plan our families have for each other.

He's stronger than my entire family put together. He's a Prince, yet he's been the one giving enough power to the throne to keep the blood fields functioning.

Fuck them all, I growl inside my head.

No, my father is wrong about Sabre. He's wrong about everything. The Sanguinis family is no less powerful than we are.

But he doesn't see it that way. It's not black and white enough; therefore, he refuses to acknowledge it.

And therein lies the problem between Strigoi clans. It's always a fucking dick-measuring contest.

My mood improves as I imagine that playing out in the Strigoi throne room. Sabre might have vibrating bits that are immensely pleasurable, but when it comes to size, I'd win that contest hands down.

If my family had their way, his dick would be cut off, and not long after that, his head.

Returning home right now turns my stomach. The protocol Sabre and I established is what keeps us safe, but I'm not ready to leave yet. We only meet up in secret when our families are otherwise occupied. With all that's been going on in the Hell Fae Realm, it's been easier to find time to be together.

But my family is coming back from a hunt today. We don't have access to the Royal Blood Fields. So the Van Drakkens are forced to go to other worlds in search of food.

We are a hunted species in most worlds we venture into. This world is no better, where we all squabble over titles and resources.

I'm a sentinel for my household, meaning they expect me to protect the estate in their absence.

I've seen the blood fields. I know the Sanguinis family can't afford an attack right now.

As for my absence, infiltrating enemy territory is as good an excuse as any. So I keep an eye out for anything my father might find useful in theory, but wouldn't be truly damaging to my lover.

The sound of kicked rocks down the dark hall sends my instincts flaring. Like any Strigoi, I can see in pitch darkness, so I don't have a torch.

There's a light at the end of the hall that follows the sound, though, making me curious about whether they keep any mortal staff on hand. That wouldn't be uncommon, but most mortals are better suited to be blood bags in the ground. Strigoi feed on blood and dreams, and those marinate better when the intended target is kept in a permanent sleep.

Being in the Morpheus Kingdom, it's easier for me to slip into my true Strigoi form than if I had been on a hunt with my family in a mortal realm. I'm able to skitter up the wall and cling to the ceiling while I wait for the light to dim.

Instead, it grows brighter.

I go perfectly still as a petite female walks through the hall. Or rather, she's limping.

What are the damn Sanguinis assholes up to now? I wonder.

She nervously glances around, stopping just beneath me as if she can sense my presence.

If she sees me, she doesn't scream. So either she has nerves of steel, or she's coincidentally staring right at my exact location for no reason.

The female is young, too young. Her blue eyes are bright with fear and make her look like a ghost. We have those in this realm, even if they have a different name depending on their type.

Such as Banshees.

Or worse, the Kuntilanak Fae. Those are terrifying things.

And then there are various spirits with no known names.

I hear a rapid heartbeat, though, so that eliminates the latter possibility. And the scent of blood makes my mouth water.

As do her nightmares. Even though she's awake, I can sense them lingering in the back of her mind, waiting for me to taste them just as much as her blood.

Both of those things suggest she's human, or at least partially human. Banshee blood won't sustain a Strigoi.

And a Banshee would have screamed at me by now. Not stared up at me with fear in her eyes.

My hunger, though, makes my fangs ache. The pattering in her chest makes her sound like prey. It wants to tear into her flesh and drain her dry. Sabre fed me his blood, but that doesn't truly nourish me.

The nightmares dancing in her eyes promise a fulfilling meal.

I'm hungry. I need to go home and feed on whatever blood infused with dreams my family has brought back from their hunt.

Or I could feed now.

No, I decide as I swat the vicious hunger away like an irritating pest. I have more control than most of my kind, and I can go impressively long periods without feeding. That's what makes me a good assassin. Everything I do is with controlled measure, and I kill only when it's intentional. Sabre is the same way.

It's one of the reasons we've bonded.

"Hello?" the girl suddenly asks, making me nearly lose my grip on the ceiling and crash down right on top of her.

Wouldn't that be a sight?

Prized assassin. Startled into falling into a clump of claws onto a poor mortal girl.

She chews on her lip as if contemplating something, then drops to her knees and sets her torch next to the wall. It sizzles against the moisture of the underground tunnel. Ignoring it, she fumbles in her bag and pulls out a book.

It's old.

And magicked. I tense as the scent of its ancient power drifts to my position on the ceiling.

This girl could be a means to trap spies, so I don't reveal myself. Still, she's an odd sentinel to put in the archives.

Or the halls to the archives, if I could find them.

She leaves the book on the ground and snatches up her torch, then backs up a few paces. Her shoulders sink as if she's glad to be rid of the thing. "I know you're here," she whispers as she glances up. "I've lived in this palace all my life, creature. Long enough to know what you all smell like." Her nostrils flare as if to make a point. "So you can keep hiding up there like a coward, or come down here so you can find what you're looking for."

Coward? I muse as my lips stretch into a wicked grin. My fangs throb at the challenge, but I won't bite this interesting little mortal speck.

I do finally reveal myself, though. Curiosity might have gotten the better of me, but if I can't handle a small mortal girl, then I deserve to have my life cut short.

Dropping to the ground, the girl flinches as I stretch to my full height while still donning my monster form. She's an unknown, so I have no intention of relinquishing my armored skin, my fangs, or my claws.

Or my ability to walk in her dreams and see her truth, if I so desire.

Her torch is what keeps me from dreamwalking, though. The bright light makes her far too alert for me to gain a foothold in her mind.

I realize that is likely on purpose. She knows what she's doing.

Smart girl.

"And what do you think I'm looking for?" I ask her.

I see that she's not as young as I previously thought. She has a developed body, one that the Sanguinis line might abuse.

There's not a single mark on her, though. Her nails are clean and her complexion is fair. There aren't blisters or calluses on her fingers, betraying an easy life.

A slave would have worked in the fields. And if she had been used for her blood or her body, there would be evidence left behind.

I make a mental note to ask Sabre about untouched females in his palace, as it's truly an oddity.

She indicates the book on the ground with a jerk of her chin. "Hell if I know. The book told me to bring it to you, so I did."

My tongue flicks out to taste the air as I contemplate that strange statement. "A book told you to bring it sssomewhere," I repeat, my s unintentionally slipping on my long tongue.

She leans onto her hip as if she's growing impatient with me, but her fingers tremble with fear she's obviously trying to hide. She's holding it together pretty well, so I believe her when she claims she's lived among the Strigoi all her life. "Yes. It's not uncommon for powerful beings to have a piece of their soul manifested into a book. Books always hold magic, given that they are something created out of nothing. Books defy nature. Especially this one, as it was written by the first Sigil."

My eyes blow wide as I digest a word I haven't heard in a very long time.

"Sigils are a myth," I say out of instinct, but the way the girl eyes me with defiance suggests that's not true.

And the evidence is at my feet. A Sigil is a creature of unlimited power. Rumor has it that the Strigoi were formed by three Kings who shared a Queen they named their Sigil. With her endless power, the blood fields were created and the land didn't even need living souls to function. The Sigil's memory of them had been power enough, and high-quality blood flowed freely in rivers filled to the brim with vibrant dreams.

The entire kingdom thrived, and there was no need to hunt, no need to squabble over territory or resources.

There had only been peace—until the Sigil was gone.

Then the three bloodlines went their separate ways. For many, the story ends there.

But as I examine the female before me, I notice her eyes aren't blue like I had assumed.

They're silver, and the irises are fractured like broken shards of glass.

"They aren't myths," she insists. "But a Sigil is rare enough that I can understand why you might think so. And one is born only during a time of great need. King Nos has been trying to awaken a Sigil for centuries by using any human lineage to the last Sigil, who just so happens to be my distant relative. That's why I live here. I'm one of his experiments."

Now I have more questions than answers. "Does King Nos have a habit of sharing all his plans with his experiments?" I don't slip my s as badly this time, having regressed my monster features in favor of my mortal ones.

This girl is no threat.

But she is interesting. I can guess why Sabre kept her kind a secret from me.

He was embarrassed by his father's desperate attempts.

And he didn't believe her story. Just like he didn't believe he had heard a compatible mate's scream rip through the dream plane just the other day.

The girl scoffs as she adjusts the torch to her other hand. The light no doubt reveals my nakedness. There's no point in wearing clothing when I'm in my true form, but she keeps her gaze on mine. She doesn't seem at all sexually attracted to me, which is just as well. I have no interest in playing with one of King Nos's experiments that Sabre also happened not to tell me about.

"He can't hide anything from us," she casually explains. "We might not be awakened Sigils, but we still have some of the innate power that comes from being potentials, especially with the training we've gone through. Such as seeing the truth behind a person's motives. And?—"

"We?" I ask, cutting her off.

Her cheeks flush as if she hadn't intended to reveal that there are more like her under King Nos's thumb. "You're missing the point. Just pick up the book so I can go back to my wing." She eyes the cobwebs and wrinkles her nose. "I don't like the archives. The halls change every few minutes, and you'll be lost here forever until someone else finds you. So when you've read whatever it is you're supposed to read, I'll show you the way out. Only someone like me can, unless you have enough magic to find the exit yourself."

I flex my fingers, irritated that I didn't know about that safety mechanism when it came to the archives.

But it makes sense.

Rescued by a girl. Sabre will never let me hear the end of this if he finds out about it.

Kneeling, I pick up the book and open it. The pages are like papyrus dipped in liquid metal. I only see an obscure reflection of myself. The longer I stare at it, I notice that tiny cracks seem to form across the page.

Two other spots appear as the liquid metal moves and changes. Two silhouettes, one next to me that takes on the shape of a Strigoi with large fangs.

Sabre?

Then there's another male at the top, who seems to have two faces overlapping onto one another.

One looks like a pompously rich man.

There's a shadow that overlays his image, one that towers over him like a dark cloud with red eyes. Long horns emerge, making me wonder what kind of creature that could be and what it has to do with Sabre, me, or the lost soul of a Sigil who created this book.

Then a blood diamond appears in the middle of the page, connecting all three of us.

When I reach out to touch it, I flinch back at a sharp stab of pain. Blood pools on the tip of my finger even though I'm fairly certain I hadn't touched the page.

The book slams shut and then vanishes.

"Well, that was rude," I say, glancing up at the girl, who is watching me expectantly. "Any idea what the hell that meant?" I ask before popping my bloodied finger into my mouth.

She shrugs. "Whatever message she had for you is for you alone. Now, if you don't want to be stuck in here forever, I suggest you come with me," she says, then marches off down a hall I didn't remember seeing a moment before.

I frown but follow her.

It frustrates me that I've already decided to keep this from Sabre, but I have no doubt about it now.

That scream I heard had been real.

And it had come from more than just a compatible mate. I think it belonged to a Sigil.

My Sigil.

And whoever or wherever she is, she is the key.

The key to my problems.

The key to Sabre's broken heart.

The key to everything .