Blood Life Page 4

  His blood on her hands would please her to the point of ecstasy. She reveled in the dream before he broke her concentration with a chuckle, making a sarcastic face as if in response to her thoughts.

  Their eyes locked. “Where are your maids?” he asked.

  When she didn’t answer, he turned around and called to them, slapping his thigh while he did, like they were dogs and not human beings. “Suzanne, Rebecca, Muriel!”

  Three young maids obediently rushed into the room and stopped before their King, giving him a quick curtsy. As custom dictated, they avoided eye contact unless directly addressed.

  He nodded at them collectively. “Dress her in the Queen’s wedding gowns; she has no time to fit for her own. Have her downstairs in thirty minutes sharp.”

  He looked around them, down the corridor. “Where is your head maid?”

  The girls looked at his chest, shaking their heads that they didn’t know.

  “Elizabeth!” he roared impatiently over their heads.

  He turned back to face Alexandria, putting in a few final words of victory. “You will do this and your precious Roman will bear witness. This shall be the most important day of your life, young lady, and you will cooperate.” He pushed the maids into the bedroom and closed the door behind them.

  Roman will bear witness.

  Alexandria panicked. “Why must you do this to me?” She gasped at the air around her. “Why do you hurt me!” she screamed, burning her throat from the effort.

  She jumped up from the bed and flew with inhuman speed toward the closed door. She pounded on it as hard as she could. Opening her hands, she used trembling fingers to claw at the wood, screaming after her father, not bothering to open the door to be heard better. In her heart, she knew it would do no good, but her eruption released at least some of the rage Morgan had brought to life inside of her.

  When the onslaught of fury was sated, she lowered her head and slid down to her knees, turning to rest her back against the door. She rested her seat on the hard floor, looking up into the faces of her silent maids. They stared at her, too surprised to intervene.

  Muriel, the newest maid employed by the Royal Estate, was the first to break the dense silence, gathering her princess up and steadying her on her feet.

  “You must dress, my lady,” she said carefully.

  Alexandria looked into Muriel’s eyes, hollow and unresponsive to the suggestion. Instead, she delved deep into her mind, plotting an escape of Fate, an escape from her name and her obligations.

  Moving away from Muriel, she headed toward the window. She looked down, wondering if it would be possible to jump to her freedom. Too high, she thought.

  Flicking her eyes toward the trees, Alexandria caught a glimpse of Devendra grazing in the field.

  Roman!

  Her lips quivered as she fought the urge to cry. She slipped over to the door and opened it, peaking around the corners, then back at her busy maids.

  Elizabeth arrived, studying her wild-eyed princess who made brief eye contact before hurrying through the corridors.

  As much as she knew she shouldn’t, Elizabeth fought the urge to stop Alexandria who managed to get outside and run across the field undetected.

  No Roman.

  “Where is he?” she whispered to Devendra, who lifted her head from the grass. Her gaze fixed to the east.

  “Over there?” she asked, pointing, suddenly realizing she was speaking to a horse. Feeling a sudden sense of his caress along her neck, she closed her eyes, allowing the tingles to rush over her. She spun around to greet him, but he wasn’t there.

  Puzzled, she looked around, then was startled to hear him calling to her. She grew anxious, her eyes darting around wildly. Her head swam, threatening to render her unconscious.

  Suddenly, his voice and the commotion stopped all at once, snapping her back to reality. She looked up to catch his frame in her window.

  She broke for the Estate, making it only to her doorway before being restrained by the King’s dutiful assistant, Marcus. “The gentleman in your room has already been discovered, my lady.”

  He cleared his throat at her, sending the smell of the vine on his breath into her face. It filled her nostrils and she threw her head to the side to shield herself from the stench. Nausea swept over her like a wave at high tide. It was too early to smell last night’s wine recycled on morning breath.

  “You have disappointed your father greatly, dear Alexandria.”

  His expression was sadistic, his grip threatening. With the assistance of two burly guards, Alexandria was escorted into her quarters, kicking and biting any flesh within reach.

  As the maids forced garments over her fighting limbs, they continually apologized for being a part of her pain. Eventually, Alexandria became numb, silently allowing the torment, as Roman could be dead at that very moment. She could will herself to follow him if she concentrated hard enough.

  Morgan had been known to take innocent lives without so much as a second thought. He would surely take Roman’s. For the first time in her life, Alexandria prayed for death to come and take her to her lover’s embrace, safe and secure, for all eternity.

  Once dressed in proper apparel, Alexandria was ushered out to the courtyard for the ceremony. A tall, grim figure stood proudly beside Morgan, with his large hands clasped together.

  She glared at him, filled with utter disgust, assuming the stranger to be the groom. Glancing over at the platform that stood proudly at the center of the enormous courtyard, she saw Roman being restrained by guards. His focus was on her, but who stood so earnestly behind him? Squinting and trying to focus on the unfamiliar man, she realized it was the new executioner; the one who firmly believed in inhumane torture as a means of proper discipline.

  She gasped at the memory of his ugly words and fresh tears welled up her eyes, blurring her vision of Roman. His hands were being tied to wooden beams above his head. He hung with his legs crossed beneath his beaten form.

  Guards stood everywhere, three at each gate and seven surrounding Roman. She cried out as Roman started to fight again, trying to get to her. Nothing could be done; Morgan had complete control. Guards were beating Roman after every word that fell from his parted, exhausted lips.

  “Alexandria, come here, dear.” Noticing his daughter’s presence, Morgan motioned for her to take the strange man’s hand. She obeyed, feeling it would be best for Roman; regardless, she squeezed his hand with all her might, wishing to crush it to a pulp.

  He smiled at her, tauntingly, displaying two perfectly straight rows of brilliant white teeth.

  “His name is Lokee, daughter; he is to be your husband,” Morgan said with a gleaming smile on his face.

  Lokee did not acknowledge her resistance; instead he bowed, staring into her hungrily. She evaded his eyes, feeling repulsed and uncomfortable. Thoughts of breaking free and running off with Roman controlled her mind.

  Lokee towered over her, eyes burning an amber fire and skin smooth and pallid. She forced herself to look up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time. He shook his head at her. Her mouth dropped in disbelief, understanding the man had reached into her mind.

  His expression reminded her of a perfect drawing. He was quite handsome, she realized, after allowing herself to get a good enough look at him. Dark auburn hair with rich golden highlights hung down his back. His eyebrows were thin and arched with sharp points making his eyes all the more alluring; but in her heart, he would never measure up to Roman, her only love. She was him, just as he was her.

  Alexandria moved her eyes back to Roman, shaking off the feeling of mental invasion. She noticed shackles on his ankles and looked up at his hands, seeing the blood that surfaced from the friction of the rope that bound them above his head. He was centered on the platform where stake-burnings, hangings, and other forms of punishment such as head-chopping took place.

  Unable to keep himself upright and strong as a result of the continuous abuse, Roman cried out for Alexandria wit
h the flickering fervor he had left. He struggled to lift his head, to fill his vision with her perfection and beauty before death.

  For public embarrassment, he was stripped naked, and for every sound he uttered, he was whipped.

  Alexandria threw herself on the ground at her father’s feet, interrupting the minister who had begun a prayer for the union.

  She screamed with every lash they inflicted on Roman, because she, too, felt the pain, stinging like acid as long welts surfaced. Blood sprayed into the crowd. They responded with cheers, urging them on.

  “Father, make them stop! They’re killing him!!” She gulped in as much air as she could, choking on her sobs. Her heart pounded dangerously in her chest, threatening to thrust forward and out of her body.

  She held on to her father’s feet, begging and pleading for him to do something. She slapped at Lokee’s hands that had lowered down in an attempt to collect her from the ground. Morgan looked down at her with a touch of sorrow, and for the first time, Alexandria thought he might soften. It would be the first time in all her life, the only time he would ever have sympathy for her.

  “Father, please!” she cried, trembling uncontrollably.

  With a raise of Morgan’s arm, the crowd fell silent and the lashing ceased. Alexandria scrambled up from her father’s feet. She pushed and shoved her way through the crowd. “Roman,” she sobbed. A man standing at the corner of the platform faded, melding into the forest backdrop, when she approached.

  Morgan remained silent, allowing her the moment to say, “goodbye.” She crawled up the steps, forcing herself not to collapse. Roman was half-awake, fighting unconsciousness as best he could.

  She grabbed a blade from one of the guards and cut Roman loose. A guard unlocked his shackles, freeing him for his beloved. She sat down, pulling his head into her lap, cradling him in her arms. Blood stained her mother’s dress, drenching the area where she sat. There were pools of blood everywhere she looked, swirling from the movements around them.

  She wondered if Roman would die there in her arms.

  Forgetting about the crowd and the wedding and her father’s sudden gentleness, she rocked Roman in her lap. She went into her own world, bringing Roman with her. No crowd, no Lokee, no executioner, no hurt, nothing.

  A song rose in her throat. She let it rise, singing softly. She faced the heavens as her morbid song grew louder, paralyzing the people and tearing into the blackened heart of her father.

  A raven flew past her, then landed cautiously on the beams Roman had been tied to. She gazed up at it, bringing herself back to reality. The bird cawed at her and flew off, disappearing into the afternoon sky. She did not realize, until it had gone, that it symbolized death, leaving only the feeling behind. She let out her breath, assured that death would not claim Roman that day.

  The image had not frightened her as much as it soothed her. In death, she and Roman could be one, without the struggles this life burdened them with. She had always wanted to be released from the torment laid upon her by birthright. With her lover in her arms, she could die and they would follow the raven to the heavens and dance on the clouds. She closed her eyes, letting the reverie envelope her.

  Morgan made his way over to them, accompanied by two guards who carried a heavy board. Alexandria tightened her grip, looking at her father, crazed by her emotions. She wanted to protect Roman from the sickness of her people, of her own kind.

  “It is alright, Alexandria,” Morgan promised, hoping to break through her madness. He completely faltered, surprising even himself. “What have I done to you?” he whispered, tracing her cheek with his shaky fingers. “You are my daughter; I only want what is best for the family. Don’t make me do it this way, full of hatred. I love you. You are my flesh and blood, but you severely disappoint me. I cannot understand it.”

  She did not answer him; instead, she stroked Roman’s head and kissed his hair.

  Lokee watched the scene from afar, waiting patiently for his bride to return. Morgan turned and motioned for him to join them, but he declined.

  “These guards will take Roman to the apothecary shop in town where herbs will save his life,” Morgan explained, pointing to the board the guards carried. “He will live on the condition that you marry Lokee today and never see Roman again. That is my compromise for his life. Let him go.”

  The guards loosened Alexandria’s grip on Roman. She resisted at first, but understood that letting him go would be the only way to save him. He would live only if she accepted her father’s bargain. So she did.

  The guards lifted him carefully onto the board and carried him off. He was still breathing, she made sure of that before turning away from him, the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life.

  “Come child,” the minister called from across the way. Alexandria lifted her head to find Lokee waiting for her. “You will now be wed,” he said, motioning for her to join them. Even the minister, who she had known all her life, had gone against her.

  She looked at him for a while before Morgan finally took hold of her arm to guide her to her groom. She let him hang on to her only because of his promise to leave Roman alone.

  “Will you?” she asked, still looking forward. She was having trouble keeping her eyes focused.

  “Yes, I will,” he swore, “as long as you never see him again.”

  Alexandria heard a thundering laugh behind her. She swung around, hair flying out around her. At the platform, where the raven left the sense of death behind, was the strange man she had seen lingering at the corner, but he looked different. He had black wings and wore a black frock. He resembled a dark angel. She recognized him as Azrael, the Angel of Death.

  Elizabeth taught her of spirits. Elizabeth’s mother was a witch, rich in wisdom of the unknown, and Elizabeth passed the knowledge onto her. Alexandria knew of Azrael’s intentions; that he must have been there to claim Roman’s soul. But he did not receive it!

  Azrael was sent to gather and deliver souls to his Master, Lucifer. What became of the lost souls? Did Azrael follow them until death; did he make death come for them, regardless, if they were already marked, even if they had cheated it at their time?

  Her head swam and the world seemed a whirlpool, sucking her into its depths, drowning her awareness. Draining her energy. She collapsed on the grass, thankful for the blackness that took her away from her mental torment.

  Lokee rushed over, along with Elizabeth and the heavily sedated Queen who had just arrived. The Queen swallowed pills to keep from feeling anything, and wasn’t even there for her daughter when she most needed her. But Elizabeth was, and she had glimpsed Azrael, also.

  Instead of stopping at Alexandria, Elizabeth continued to the platform toward the dark angel who gleamed at her, stretching his wings then relaxing them again. He smiled before dissipating, leaving a foul stench behind.

  Elizabeth stood there for what seemed an eternity, waiting for the spirit to return, as they often would if challenged. Feeling defeated when he did not reappear to face her, Elizabeth turned around to find everyone gone. Leaves blew quietly across the grass, catching in a few of its blades. She sat on the steps of the platform and wept for her sweet mistress, wept for her pain and for Roman who was left without her sweetness.

  Seven

  His house was among the wealthier in Bleu, but he was not of Royal stature. Lokee may have had money, but money surely wasn’t deserving of a Morgan hand. Whether her father “sold” her or felt he was protecting her was irrelevant, for now Alexandria had lost everything to a man she could never love. A man who, when he sleeps, reveals certain angles of a pale, wretched face that she wouldn’t wish an enemy to look upon. Flushed white and bloodless, his cold body lies beside Alexandria, never sleeping deeply, never allowing her a chance to escape.

  Two weeks after the wedding, Lokee had still been unable to consummate his vows with Alexandria. She refused him again and again, hollering and screaming into his face at the thought of making love to him. Finally, he had
given up the advancements toward sex and sincerely tried his hand at being a good husband. He was easy and gentle with her, so as not to frighten her away. His feelings toward her were true; he cared and loved her, though she could not understand how he knew so much about her when she barely spoke to him.

  It wasn’t long before he grew bored of her games. One night, after dinner, feeling weak and ill, Alexandria retired for the evening without a word. As soon as her head hit the pillow, her eyes closed to complete darkness. Dreams invaded her mind, spinning her round and round, changing scenes and making no sense. One dream stuck to her relentlessly. This dream changed her sense of peace in sleep.

  The only time she felt out of Lokee’s hold was through sleep, when she could dream of Roman and be one with him again. But it was a nightmare taking hold of her hopes and warping them. She felt as though Lokee led her through it, not letting her wake to wash it away and perhaps forget.

  In a distance, across a field of fresh, crisp green, was Roman on Devendra. The sun blinded her, stinging her eyes, so that she had to shield them protectively to get a closer look at them.

  “Roman,” she called, gathering up her skirts and jogging toward them. The sunlight was blinding her! “Roman,” she called again, not seeming to get closer to them as she jogged. They moved further from her with each hurried step she took. She broke into a run, dropping her skirts, tripping a little as she moved. Still, with every elongated step, they moved backwards away from her reach. “Wait!” she yelled, out of breath.

  A loud bang startled her from behind. She whipped her head around to look, losing her balance. She lifted herself from the ground, looking back in Roman’s direction to find him gone. “Roman, where are you?”

  The flowers she wore in her hair shriveled up and fell to the grass. They looked like tiny specks of paper, grasping onto the blades of green, struggling to hold on against the wind. She bent down, reaching for one of the withered petals, but the earth trembled under her feet causing her to lose focus. She moaned as the sun exploded above her, blinding rays of light shot down upon her. Clouds moved rapidly across the sky.