Mark of Betrayal

Page 63

“What does Falcon think?”
Quaid frowned. “What's he got to do with it?”
“I dunno.” I shrugged. “I trust his opinion over Mike’s when it comes to what's best for me, because he's not using his heart to judge.”
“Oh. Right. Well, I know he thinks you need to be watched over, but he’s eased off a bit since your coronation—says you don't make as many stupid mistakes.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He's not worried anymore that you’ll cross the wrong boundaries with Arthur, either. I know he even told Mike we should just place a guard on you while you sleep—leave it at that.”
I nodded. “Do you think it was wrong of me to seek the opinion of the House?”
Quaid shook his head. “Not if they also agreed with you.”
“Which they did.” I looked at my door.
“Arthur?” I ran up behind him, feeling lighter without guards flanking my heels.
He stopped on the landing and turned slightly to look down at me as I came bounding toward him. “My lady.”
“Hi, um.” I stopped, huffing a bit. “Can I borrow you for a few minutes today?”
“May I enquire the reason?”
“Yes, formal Arthur.” I frowned at him, quickly covering it with a smile. “I need to go to the scroll room, but Morgaine said I could only go in there with her or you, and I can't go with her.”
“Is there a reason?”
“Yes. She’s a big fat liar, and I need to get the truth.”
One of Arthur’s brows lowered.
“She told me about this curse,” I said. “The Curse of Lilith, you know, the seduction one.”
“Yes, I've heard of it.”
“Yeah, well, she neglected to mention that it only works on men with a heartbeat. And Jason said—”
“So Jason’s in on this, too.” He turned and started walking away.
“Yes. He’s going to show me the correct interpretation.”
“And you never thought to come to me?”
“I…I didn't know I could—or should.” I folded my arms, following him. “Jason pointed out these oddities, Arthur. You never even talk to me about the prophecy or anything to do with my family history.”
He stopped walking; I stopped, too.
“It’s like you avoid it—for some reason,” I finished.
“I haven’t been avoiding it.”
“Well, that may be the case, but you, of all people, should have been talking to me about it. I didn't even know how many things I had wrong. I mean, I always just assumed everyone in the vampire world knew about the prophecy, and then you tell me they didn't—that no one knew, and now Jason tells me he was studying Lilithian History at college and read the scroll, which he doesn't believe is a prophecy at all, and…I’m really confused.”
Arthur turned back around. “Jason’s right. But he’s also wrong.”
“What does that mean?”
“There are many lies for us to sift through. Morgaine is not lying, and I'm not one hundred percent sure she’s aware of her misinterpretations, either.”
“So, you don't think it’s deliberate?”
“She’s been by herself all these centuries, Amara. She’s been one of only twenty Lilithian’s allowed to walk the light, and any information she has come across that gave her hope for a better future, she’s held onto like a precious stone.”
My shoulders dropped.
“She may have read the scrolls wrong, but look at all she has achieved because of that.” He stepped into me. “It was her knights who stormed Elysium and rescued you. It was her interpretation of the scrolls that saw hundreds of vampires and Lilithians follow a young girl—possibly to their deaths, should Morgaine be wrong. Of course I have not spoken with you of the correct interpretation, because everything good we have here is based on what Morgaine started. And that is more than enough to have brought freedom to many who were suffering.”
I didn't realise I was standing on my toes until I relaxed back and felt shorter again. “So, you think I shouldn’t meddle in this, because the lie works?”
“It’s not a lie, my lady. It’s a misconception—and that's the truth. The problem with that is, no matter how many men read those scrolls, it is subject to the opinion of the interpreter.”
“So, do you even think there is a prophecy?”
He hesitated. “I hope so.”
Mike came out from the east wing staircase and started toward us. “Hey, Ara, what’s up?”
“Library,” Arthur said quietly, touching my shoulder. “Eight o’clock tonight.”
I nodded, and he disappeared. “Hey, Mike. What’re you doing?”
“Heading home for the night.”
“Home?”
“Yep.”
I noticed the duffle bag over his shoulder then. “Why?”
“Well, aside from the fact that I am clearly not needed here,” he said spitefully, but smiled at me after. “There’s a bit of a problem with Emily.”
“Is she okay?”
He shook his head. “She just screamed down the phone at me—told me to admit that I don't love her.”
“Oh. Why?”
He shrugged. “Guess I’ve just been so busy I haven’t really had time to call her and tell her otherwise.”
“Mike,” I groaned. “You always do this.”
“Do what?” He followed me to the front door.
“You were great when you were with me, but before that, half those girls you dated ended up sobbing piles of neglected waste. You…I don't know, it’s like you want them there when you need them, and that’s it.”
“It’s not like that with Em.” He sighed and opened the door. “Okay, in truth, it might’ve been like that with the others because I didn't love them, but I do love Emily.”
I shrugged, staying inside as he stepped onto the front landing. “It’s not me you need to convince.”
He leaned in to give me a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see ya tomorrow. Oh, before I go—” He pulled out his phone and stood beside me, holding it up. “I gotta snap a recent pic for your mum and dad. I’ll drop by and tell them all about my holiday to Paris.”
I smiled for the photo, stepping away from Mike after. “Tell Dad I said hi, and give Sam a slap for me.”
“Will do.”
“And…take your time, Mike. We’re okay here,” I said, leaning on the doorframe.
“No, I gotta be back tomorrow arvo for training.”
“Why? We can train without you.”
He grinned. “I know. But I'm sparring with your dead husband’s brother again.”
I shook my head, groaning, and slammed the door in his face. “Pig.” I couldn’t believe he’d rather get back here to kick Jason's butt instead of staying and making sure his fiancé felt loved. That poor girl. A part of me started to wonder if maybe she deserved better than Mike.
“She does.” Jason popped up out of nowhere.
“God, don't do that.” I touched a hand to my heart.
“Sorry.” He walked alongside me toward the stairs. “So, did you get Arthur on board?”
“Yup. Eight p.m.”
“Okay.” He bounced off. “See you then.”
“Bye.” I waved.
After pressing send on a dad-appeasing email, I sat back and looked out the giant window in the library. My House had kindly decked out a few desks with modern research tools, called computers, and were in the process of digitally cataloguing all the books. We’d even hired a librarian, who would arrive in about three days.
Beside me, a few neutrally-coloured hardbacks, covered in two inches of dust, gave off a stuffy, mouldy kind of smell. I slipped my fingers under the one on top and dragged it down in front of me, swiping some of the dust from the cover, then gently opened it; the pages were old and yellowing on the edges, kind of stuck together. It took a bit of extra care and effort to part some without tearing them.
I read over the titles and text of historical events, looking for something of interest, and each time I flipped a page, the scent of ancient paper became stronger, almost reminding me of the way libraries smelled when I was a kid, like it had changed somehow—faded as I grew older. Then again, maybe it hadn't. Maybe I just didn't notice it so much anymore.
Halfway through the book, an image stared back at me, one I knew well from my studies at school; Vlad the Impaler, enjoying lunch around a forest of staked bodies.
“This is one of my favourite books,” Jase said, pointing to the page. “All these stories are the human versions of historical events, and here—” He flipped one page over. “Are the original versions.”
“Hi.”
“Hi.” He smiled and sat down beside me.
“So, you guys started the Vlad legend?”
“Yup. Drake did, actually.”
“How?”
His eyes flicked over the page a few times, a small smile on his lips, then he looked up. “That’s right, now I remember. He was fond of impaling as punishment—used it for offences like infidelity or cruelty to one’s wives.”
“Really? Cruelty I can understand, but, infidelity?”
“Yeah, and this picture—” He flipped the page back over to ‘Picnic Impalement’. “This is a depiction that Drake himself described to the original artists, so it could be published in a local news rag, showing what would be done to any who continued to break those bonds.”
“Bonds?”
“Marriage bonds. The promise to love, honour, protect and obey.”
“He’s big on promises?”
“Vows, yes.”
“Wow.” I ran my fingers over the page, studying the face of Vlad. “This looks nothing like Drake.”
“I know.” Jason stood up and wandered across the room. “It wasn't supposed to.”
“Oh.”
“Hi, Ara.”
I glanced over my shoulder and smiled at Nate as he walked into the library—that confident human bounce still a part of his step. “Hey, Nate. What’s up?”
“Nommuch.” He leaned on the table beside me, his hands under his hips. “Bored. What you doin’?”
“Just looking at this. You might be interested in this book, actually,” I said, turning it around for him to see. “It’s all about stories that were made up by vampires.”
“Vlad the Impaler,” he read aloud, squinting at the page. “What’s impaling?”
I pointed to the image of men, speared through their mid-sections on sticks rising up out of the ground. “He would sharpen the tips of stakes, oil them up so they slid in slowly, then tie the legs of his victims with ropes strapped to horses and other objects, then have them lowered onto the point very, very slowly. It could sometimes take days for them to die.”
I didn't know it was possible, but the vampire nearly turned green. “Yeah. Um, I think I’ll pass. Got any books on sports?”
I laughed out loud, my heart warming to the sound of Jason’s chuckle coming from across the room.
“What’s up, Nate?” Jase said, cupping hands with him then bumping shoulders. “Not feeling too good?”
“How can you guys talk about that stuff like it’s on topic at a Bible reading?” he shoved the book away, closing it.
“We’re used to it,” Jason said, massaging my shoulders gently.
“Well—” Nate looked up to the wall of books. “I think I’ll try the comedy section. Arthur says I should read Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy.”
“It’s on the second floor,” I said, smiling as Nate walked away. “He’s a sweet guy.”
“Yep. One of the better vampires in this community.”
I nodded, shuffling the papers on the desk. “I never knew him in life, but everyone said he was a good guy. Seems to be true.”
“You don't…like him, do you?”
Insult littered my upturned lip. “Jason!”
“Sorry.” He stepped back, palms raised. “Just asking.”
“God, I don't like every guy that walks in the room.”
“I'm sorry. It’s just…you know, there’s a lot of guys around this place, and—”
“And there are a lot of girls, too.”
“Yeah, but you don't notice the girls.”
I huffed, folding my arms. “You wanna know why?”
“Why?”
“Because boys aren't whiny and nosey and bitchy. I like video games and running around and joking about things of bad taste. The girls don't. They’re boring. All they wanna do is shop and talk about boys.” I held my hands up. ”I'm sorry, I just don't enjoy that sorta thing. I never have.”
“You’ve got a point.”
I slumped down lower in the chair. “Why does everyone always think the worst of me?”
“I don't, sweet girl.” He turned my chair and squatted down in front of me, a hand to my knee. “I just…you talk about the boys all the time. You laugh with them, joke with them, but it makes sense—you getting along better with boys. It all makes more sense now.”
“I know the lines now, you know.” I looked into his warm green eyes. “I can think a guy is cute, I can want to give him a hug when he’s down—care about him, it doesn’t mean I'm falling for him.”