Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 37: Anchors

Eighteen hours into our confinement, Keel erected a strange black tent around the entrance to the royal chambers. Five minutes after that, I heard the door open and shut. The fabric of the tent rustled gently, someone had stepped inside. Keel disappeared into the drapes and appeared with a vampire outfitted in a stained tank top and sweatpants sporting more than one tear.

"He is for you," the king said, shoving the Nosferatu in my direction.

I looked at the creature in front of me. He didn't look much older than Keel. And he was scared. I could tell from the way his eyes skittered around the room, taking in everything but me.

"He thinks I'm going to kill him," I said.

Keel shrugged. "If you please. I have a back-up. And after that I'm sure we could find others, if necessary."

"How can you be so casual about that? You're talking about his death like he isn't even in the room?"

"Because if he wasn't here, he would be dead."

"Why?"

"Tell her," Keel commanded the vampire.

"I'm Ankor Weeke," he said weakly.

"Tell her in a way she'll understand."

Ankor's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. "My father was one of the Nosferatu who shot you, Sorceress Sarker. My life is forfeit." His complexion had gone grey by the time he stopped speaking. He looked as if he expected me to incinerate him on the spot. A perfect poster child of misery.

It hit me in a very human, very personal place. "Are you your father, Ankor?"

He shook his head.

"Did you know about the guns or the plan or any of it?"

He shook his head even more emphatically.

"What do you do?"

"I was studying to be an educator."

"Do you plan on attempting to avenge your father's death?"

"No." None of his answers bore the slightest hesitation or suggestion of dishonesty.

"Then I will not kill you."

The fear did not leave him, and I looked to Keel for explanation.

"Ankor is yours to do with as you please. He is your bleeder. He will reside downstairs alongside my own."

"In those horrible cells?" I said.

Ankor finally looked up at me. "I am grateful for my life, Sorceress Sarker. I require no comforts."

I turned to Keel, who had been watching our exchange with fascination. "You may be obligated punish the bloodline, but I am not. I accept his service and I accept that our laws dictate he must be held captive if not executed, but he will have a proper bed, clothes, regular access to a shower, and the rest of it." When Keel started to argue, I added, "You can't expect me to take my sustenance in a place that reminds me of-"

"As you wish," Keel snapped, and I wonder for whose benefit he cut my sentence short. "There is, however, one rule you must follow, with this bleeder or any other you may take in the future. They may not drink from you. Not for any reason. If they do, they will be put to death."

"Don't worry. I remember. My blood is only for you, Your Majesty," I said, voice heaping with sarcasm, giving free reign to my Nosferatu urges had also loosened my tongue.

"Yes," Keel said, dead serious.

"Understood, Your Majesty," Ankor cut in, attempting to defuse the rising tension between the king and me.