Bloodmark

11: A Private Room

[first draft; feedback, critique, and comments welcome; please point out any typos] 

The floor sways.

"Mara, are you alright?"

A brusque breath escapes my lips. I press a palm into my eye. It takes concerted effort to draw oxygen in, push it out, over and over again. I manage, "I'm a bit – overwhelmed."

"Shall we sit a moment?"

"Yes, please."

The King lowers to the floor beside me. My mouth opens to protest—he'll sully his robes if he joins me. But the smile he wears reassures me and my mouth shuts.

Silence shrouds us. I focus on my breathing, encouraging my hands to stop quivering. The royal court wanted me dead—they advised the King to have me killed. It did not surprise me—I had expected it. However, to hear it tumble from their fanged mouths terrified me.

And yet, the King protected me. Despite their protests, he introduced me as his Mark. As I sit on the floor of the castle, trembling, my station has changed from Sierv to the official Mark of the King: his life-partner, his bond, his favored one.

Once the King had proclaimed me his Mark, the meeting adjourned with congratulations. Some of the nobles approached me, shook my hand, or bowed. Over their shoulders, the Prince remained on his throne, watching. Even though he smiled, chills raced along my arms.

"I'm sorry," says King Atlas, his head bent. "I'd promised that nothing would happen, but I failed to uphold that promise. For that, I am sorry."

In a strange way, his presence offers comfort. My arm tingles at the proximity between us. The bond shared between Bloodmark and vampyr. The highest honor. The position no one from Lred could have possibly dreamed of achieving. But now my bicep boasts a tattoo that belongs to the King. My thoughts trip and stumble in an attempt to comprehend the situation.

I shake my head and fold my hands to cease the shivering. "Nothing happened, though. I'm alright."

"Please forgive them. A Sierv has never been Marked before. It took them by surprise."

My wide eyes glance at him. "Never?"

"Only in fairy tales."

As time passes, calm settles about me. No longer do I stand in the presence of noble vampyrs who volley for my death. It is only King Atlas here, and he did keep his promise. Nothing happened to me. It had not been an empty promise.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes. I feel better."

In a lithe movement, he stands before me with a hand outstretched. I slip my hand into his, holding my breath in anticipation for the shock. As soon as our skin touches, my veins vibrate with singing blood. His grip tightens. The shivers crawling up my arms are of a different sort, one I do not mind.