The Blood of Darkness

Chapter 15

Val

Death lurks in the air, a silent promise creeping closer as I hurry through the streets, going door to door searching for the family name stamped on the mail slot. Medeor.

I don't care about Neve, I tell myself. I don't care what happens. She just reminds me of Coryza, that's all.

It is so much easier to lie to yourself than face the truth.

The streets are empty as the rain pours down, relentless. I pull my cloak tighter around me, hoping to ease the chill in my bones, and pick up my pace. My mind keeps going back to when Neve and I locked eyes, to that recognition that I finally identified. I may not be correct, but I'd bet that I am.

A part of me considers if it would be better if Neve died. If her death would change things, result in a specific, vital action. But if she's here, then how would her death become known to those it would need to? Which brings up another question: Why is she here?

The sound of galloping hooves chases me out of my jumbled, complicated thoughts. I slip my sword, which I haven't bothered to put away, into my cloak. Seconds later, a Royal Patrol of roughly ten guards on horseback turns the corner. I tug my hood further over my face and keep my head down as they pass, feeling their suspicious eyes on me.

Luckily, they pass without stopping me. I watch until they disappear around the next corner before approaching another house and checking the mail slot. Aarush. Nope.

As I continue to rush through the streets, I get nearer and nearer to the huge red-hued brick castle, towering above all the other buildings. In that castle lives the Royal Family: the King, Queen, and the young Crown Prince Blaze, who, if I remember correctly, is only seven years old. I wonder what it will be like for him to grow up during a war.

I wonder if he will live through it.

Family names circle through my head as I dart from building to building. Mehri, Salana, Keahi, Anatole, Eilidh, Conleth, Heulfryn, Flint, Ishaan, Vulcan.

Spies could be tracking you right now, Val. Watch carefully. My eyes fly up to the rooftops, but I see nothing.

My mind travels to the recurring dreams I've been having. Strange dreams, of falling through the air, surrounded by light and Darkness. And filled with blinding pain and scream of agony. My screams.

I'd much rather dream of the stars like I used to. Stars and a different world. They weren't exactly good dreams, but they were comforting. Brutal and full of emptiness, but comforting.

But I would still prefer the nightmares of light, Darkness, pain, and screams rather than the nightmare of the evil man who assaulted me in that wretched brothel, four years ago. The first person I ever killed. It's always the same nightmare, of what would have happened if there was no knife in the man's coat. That dream still comes often, and every time I jerk awake, trembling, crying, barely able to breathe, I feel weaker than ever.

But I cannot afford to be weak like that. How many times must I tell myself that what happened in that brothel was nothing? Nothing. I'm overreacting, that's all.

Still overreacting after four years.

Shaking the thoughts from my mind, I turn down another street, then another, then another, all with no luck. Doubt is beginning to set in, but I don't want to let the others down. Kye's pleading eyes flash before me, so abrupt and jarring that I find myself stumbling slightly, my hand knocking into the door before me, causing the metal mail slot to creak. I remove my hand from the door and stare down at the family name engraved upon the mail slot. Medeor. Above it are two more names, so I assume that the Medeors live in the bottom floor.