Blood Debt (Kingdom of Blood #1) - Callie Rose Page 0,72

both of ’em. The female’s a hunter.”

There’s a long pause, then Bastian speaks. I can hear the restraint in his voice, like a tight rubber band. “These are serious charges, Ahmir. Bring them to their feet. Let me see the accused.”

They aren’t gentle about it. I try to keep my head down, but the vampire holding me is having none of it. He jerks my head back using a fistful of my hair, forcing me to make eye contact with the prince. Bastian’s face is a mask, but his eyes—maybe I’m imagining the pain I see in their depths. Maybe it’s just anger.

Or maybe, like me, he can no longer tell the difference between the two.

“What proof do you have that she’s a hunter?” he asks, his voice dangerously quiet.

Ahmir jerks his head at the vampire who collected my weapons from the floor. The guy dumps my curved blades on the table hard enough to make me wince. That really isn’t good for them—not that it matters now, I guess.

“She might have more on her,” the guy holding me says helpfully. He slides his free hand over my body, groping me with bruising fingers. “I can search her, if you like. Everywhere.”

Bastian narrows his eyes, his nostrils flaring a little as his jaw tightens. “No. Just do your job and restrain her. Raven, remove any remaining weapons.”

A female vampire glides over to me. She moves her hands over me with a wholly clinical briskness, reaching into places better left alone without a hint of shame. When she’s finished, she glances back up at Bastian. “She’s clean. The two knives must’ve been all she carried.”

“We cannot allow this rebellion to stand,” the Elder to Bastian’s right says. “They must be punished. Thoroughly. We must make an example of them, lest others follow in their ill-fated footsteps.”

His voice is a low grumble. He’s old—like, obviously old. He must have been over seventy when he was turned.

The woman to Bastian’s left nods her head energetically. She looks like a teenager everywhere except her eyes, which are deep, ancient, and terrifying.

“Death,” the old man says heavily. “Public. Waste of good meat, but…” He shrugs. He doesn’t look as bothered as his words suggest.

The not-a-teenager on Bastian’s other side scoffs. “Death. How boring. No, no, I have a much better idea.”

Her eyes glow, and she gazes for a long while at Nathan’s face. He pales, beads of sweat popping out across his face. She’s drunk from him before, I realize belatedly—she has a personal investment in him. The hair on the back of my neck stands up, and I look behind me quickly. The room has filled up with vampires and there, standing in the crowd just behind Nathan, are Althea and Maureen. Their teeth are bared, their eyes hungry. Althea leans forward, closing the space between her and Nathan, and inhales deeply through her nose.

The woman beside Bastian smiles a predator’s smile as her eyes twinkle maliciously.

“I do not believe that your timing is coincidental, tribute,” she says to Nathan, addressing him without really speaking to him. “You run from those who would bond you to them as their own, clearly hoping to escape before the ceremony. Silly human.” Now she looks at him, her eyes black and lifeless as a shark. “We need no ceremony to bind you. Vampires are theatrical by nature—but pragmatic by necessity.”

She doesn’t wait for Bastian to weigh in, just snaps her fingers three times. A lower level vampire disappears from the room and appears again moments later, holding a crystal tray topped with a crystal chalice. Both items are encrusted with blood red teardrop-shaped rubies.

I can see the liquid in the glass, but I can’t tell what it is. The color and texture seem to change as I stare at it. One instant, it’s blue smoke, the next it’s flaming orange ice. The only consistent thing about it is the power it radiates, a magic wave which undulates over the crowd.

The vampires nearest to it seem to come more wide awake, their postures shifting as their eyes dilate, and I have the very definite sense that many of them are aroused.

“Althea. Maureen. Step forward,” the female vampire says briskly.

“Yes, Lizbeth,” they murmur in unison, making goosebumps prickle over my skin. Jesus, I hate it when vampires do that.

They do as they’re told, shaking and practically salivating, their attention caught between Nathan and the chalice. Nathan looks terrified, glancing with wide eyes from one woman to the other. Finally