Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 63: Lost in You

The compound we returned to was not the same one we left. It certainly wasn't home anymore, at least not in the way I was so desperately yearning for after all that uncomfortable and discomforting truth. Our thrones were gone - packed up and shipped off - leaving the throne room hollow and bare. Also gone were Keel's collection of weaponry, his library and a few of what were clearly his favourite pieces of furniture. Meanwhile, Arthos had collected up my journals, magic books, and many of my outfits and toiletries and packed them into my backpack and corresponding black duffel bag, leaving both at the foot of the bed next to Keel's.

"What's all this?" I asked, catching sight of them as soon as we entered the royal chambers.

"When the sorcerers strike, our go-bags will be taken to one of the compound's emergency exits," Keel explained. "Should we have to retreat, they'll be waiting topside for us. Be sure to put the bond magic book in, and that red dress. Arthos wouldn't have thought to pack it."

Keel loved that dress, just as I knew he would when I'd walked by it in the store window all those months ago, in that precious long-gone time before I could have imagined war.

I crossed to the closet and, sure enough, the sequin dress still hung from its hanger alongside some of my rattier outfits. At least Arthos was sensible enough to pack the good stuff. I snagged it off its hanger, along with my favourite worn-in hoodie and cargo pants - just in case. "Does this mean...?"

"No. There's been no intelligence to suggest that the sorcerers are ahead of schedule, but we must take precautions. Be as ready as we can be."

I turned to find Keel taking his own advice and carefully double checking the contents of his own go-bag.

"Of course," I agreed, catching sight of the blood machine beside the bed, silent and waiting for my next donation. Part of getting ready meant bleeding for the troops, especially if we wanted to give the sorcerers the planned-upon surprise. "I should probably get back to it," I said, nodding in its direction.

Keel zipped up his duffel bag and stood. "And I need to speak to the Grand Council - urgently."

"Good luck," I said, but he was gone so fast I'm not sure how much of it he heard.

Life at the compound took on an even more urgent pace after that. By the following evening, Ankor had been pardoned and sworn in as my chief aid. The ceremony had required my presence but I spent most of the time before and after giving blood or eating or resting. After Ankor's promotion he took care of all of the details: monitoring my vitals, making sure I had food and blood both on schedule and as required. When I balked at using other Nosferatu convicts to sate my appetite, he strode out into the compound and returned with a half dozen honest-to-god volunteers. Rumours had begun to spread about the unconventional battle plan, and several vampires saw this as another way they could serve their king and queen. It became a ritual in its own way: they gifted me their blood and I promised to use it to gift power to the enclave. The frequency of their contributions numbed my discomfort, both at taking blood from my subjects and being a queen. In war, everyone made sacrifices and someone always had to lead.

That remained Keel, mostly. He left early in the evenings and barely made it back before sun-up every morning. If there was time, we made love - slow and meditative, a perpetual deepening of our connection - but often we just talked ourselves to sleep. He'd break off mid-sentence as he was updating me on a revised combat strategy or task that had been completed. I worried about him. He'd long since traded his robes and crown for tactical gear. And although I hadn't looked, I suspected he'd packed away mine too.

He didn't pack away the Bond Magic grimoire, however, and I took to reading it religiously as the machine pumped away my magical blood. In our current situation, its contents were largely disappointing. Cella and Rook, despite all their research and spell-writing, lived as laypeople who had almost no use for offensive magic, though there were pages upon pages of spells for illusion and obfuscation and improved growth of food and herbs and healing plants. And there were medicinal spells and shield spells, but no good old fireball or bolt of lightning or magical neurotoxin when you needed one.