A Violet Fire (Vampires in Avignon #1) - Kelsey Quick Page 0,82
catch my eye. The other supply units who are also making the trip to the capital begin filing into the supply chariot. Due to his run-in with Abethos months ago, Zein is required to journey to a summit at Isshar, the capital of Cain. He, along with the other four rulers—including Giomar—and their advisory senate will be discussing the imminence of war. He insisted I come for both his own desire, as well as to show Giomar that his grand plan to kill me failed to work. I’m all for the further destruction of vampire pride, so I agreed if only to see the look on that bastard’s face.
Luckily, Zein let me choose two of the supply units to accompany us, since he knew Anaya’s presence would undoubtedly cause strife. I had asked him why he continued to keep her around after everything she did.
“Her blood is the highest quality in the supply.” I couldn’t fight him there. My blood is only now becoming edible. I would imagine with her devotion and love, hers is the equivalent of maple syrup. Still, the fact he continues to crave her blood brings me an odd sense of displeasure.
Anaya makes one downcast side-glance to me before stepping inside the nearby chariot. It was just yesterday that both she and Danny were finally allowed outside of the dungeons, stripped of their luxuries and titles, but I’m sure it had been a long month. She now seems meek, reserved, and absent from her usual throne of tyranny. I, however, have been minding my own business while tolerating an influx of stares and isolation. Thank goodness my group didn’t treat me any differently after hearing about the Laisse.
After Anaya files in, it’s Emi, then Glera, then Savvy, and finally Katarii. I had chosen Savvy and Katarii to come along, and even though Zein has never taken Glera’s blood before, she was instructed to go as well. Maybe to show off how eclectic his collection is? I scowl at the degrading thought, but I am happy to have another ally in the caravan, nonetheless.
When Savvy notices me, I make my way over to her, smile and all. I have yet to tell her about that night—the one where Zein confessed to having some sort of feelings for me. I wasn’t even sure if I was going to, given the drama within the seraglio already, but I had made up my mind to tell her on this trip.
“Wavorly, stop.” Zein’s demanding voice shoots out from somewhere down the stone path to the castle, halting my approach toward my best friend. And I do stop, watching as she disappears behind the walls of the chariot, shooting me a quizzical look in the process. Gemini files in behind her and Katarii.
I flip around, noting Zein striding down the roundabout, proudly so, with Narref and his personal soldiers close behind. A silken white robe with ruby-red splashes along the seams cover Zein’s torso. Black leather straps and belts loop almost endlessly around his chest and waist, displaying several small chains with emblems on them. His black pants slide naturally into calf-high leather and steel-wrapped boots, which clank with each nearing footstep. A small layer of metal armor covers his shoulders, back, and part of his chest, which makes me wonder if we are going on a military expedition instead. The last thing I notice before crossing my wrists and lowering my head is his ruby-crusted shawl. A ceremonial type of garment, I assume, because literally every inch of it catches the light from the moon perfectly, glistening a bright, yet deep-red.
“Yes, my lord?” I answer him, dutifully and engaged since we are in public.
He walks past me and answers, “You are to accompany me in my chariot for the journey.”
“Yes, my lord.” A shudder flies up my spine.
Since that one night a few months ago, even thinking about my feelings for Zein has been a confusing chore. At first, I would idly hope he wouldn’t summon me so that I wouldn’t have to face him. And then, at some point or another I began praying to be summoned, especially when he started summoning me just to talk. It was at that moment that I realized our relationship was different. That he may very well be the only vampire I could ever remotely trust.
Three masked servants stand bowed at the entrance to the center chariot. They offer up their hands, and Zein drapes his ruby-shawl and overcoat before he takes the two