Valkyrie's Sacrifice (Academy of Immortals 3)

I squirm against him.

“Daddy,” Marielle says brightly, “you remember Luke.”

“Ah, yes,” the King says, nodding in deference. “It’s good to see you, although I’m surprised this is the side you’ve chosen. Your father must be…displeased.”

Luke’s expression is calm and collected. He slides a hand into his pocket. “Unlike some,” his eyes dart to Marielle’s, “I’m not a fan of being manipulated by my father. I make my own decisions.”

Her smug grin falters before shoring back up. She leans into her father’s side. “And this is my former roommate Hildi, the Valkyrie.”

The king smiles, his eyes assessing. “Ah, yes. I’ve heard you caused quite the upheaval at the Academy. Too bad you and Mari didn’t get along better. Your alliance would have been formidable.”

“Well, when you wake up to a leech sucking your blood in the middle of the night, it’s hard to reestablish trust.”

He gives his daughter an admonishing look. “Self-control doesn’t come easy to my daughter. I’ve spoiled her.”

I dare a glance at Miya, the latest victim of her gluttony. No wonder she had an affinity to Marshal.

“Where is he?” she asks, as though reading my mind.

“Good question,” I reply. “I thought he may end up here as well.”

“As you can see,” the King says, “while you are here you are welcome to take what you want—who you want. In this world there’s no limit. No end to the excess. What do you want? Money? Jewels? Sex?” His eyes sweep over me. “Power? Weapons?”

“We’re here for one thing,” Rupert says, nodding at Miya. “He comes with us.”

The King grins. “You assume he wants to?”

“Yes, I do assume that,” I say with my chin held high. “Release him and we’ll go.”

“The truth that people don’t understand about the Third Circle is that there are no locks on our doors, no chains confining you to a cell. Guests are allowed to leave at any time.” The King scratches his forehead with a disturbingly long fingernail. “Feel free to continue on with your travels.”

The five of us glance at one another, not willing to believe him for a moment. There are actual vampire thugs surrounding us at the moment. But if this is the game he wants to play, I’m willing to give it a shot.

“We’re ready to go, and we’re taking Miya with us.”

He nods Marielle, who pouts as though she’s losing a plaything, but steps aside.

“Just one thing,” the King adds, “you have to ask him if he wants to go.”

It feels like a trap, but I proceed anyway. We came here for Miya, and we’ll leave with him. I walk past the King, feeling dark energy rolling off his body. On my hand are three rings plus my own. I’d stacked them there the night before after giving one to Rupert. I wasn’t going to be caught without my belongings again. I rub my thumb against them, sparking the energy of the bond.

I reach Miya; who is leaning against the seat, unconscious. His hair, loosened from its tie; hangs over his shoulders. He too is in white, his bare chest exposed. Red gashes cut through his pale skin, starting at his collarbone, and I see the red wounds on his neck. They’re sore, giving the impression that he’s been fed on multiple times in the same spot. I touch his forehead—it’s cold and clammy. I don’t hesitate to put the ring on his finger, feeling an immediate tug. It’s faint but there. Bending, I say, “Miya, it’s Hildi, I need you to wake up.”

He doesn’t move, in fact, I’m not sure he’s even breathing. I press my fingers to his chest searching for a heartbeat. It’s faint.

I spin and grind out, “What. Did. You. Do. To. Him?”

“Did you know that a Samurai’s blood has an extra kick?” Marielle’s eyes flick to Armin and Rupert as she licks her teeth. “But really, I wonder if it’s the immortality running through their blood; whatever power Camulus cursed you with, is refreshingly delicious.”

My resolve, which had been hanging by a very thin thread since we walked into the room, snapped. I reach between my thighs, pulling out the sharp blade strapped between my legs. Before I even have a good grip, Rupert and Armin are already in motion, our movements nearly choreographed. I fling the blade across the room, targeted at Marielle’s neck. Armin lunges for the King, and Rupert begins his assault on the guards. Behind them, Luke and Elizabeth jump to action, and the entire room is in a brawl.

Marielle blocks the blade and it skitters across the room. She moves lightning-fast, fueled on vampire speed, wrapping her hands around my neck. They’re small but powerful, her nails pushing into my skin. She holds me from behind, where I have a clear view of Armin getting tossed across the room by her father, and Rupert taking punch after punch. Luke holds his own against one of the guards, he’s quick and the glint in his eye tells me he loves a fight. Elizabeth, our weakest fighter, with only a few weeks of solid training, struggles with her opponent. She’s backed in a corner, the vampire’s teeth bared, when she closes her eyes and mutters under her breath. A sword magically appears in her hands and she swings it expertly, chopping off his head in one clean cut.

She grins, pleased with her move, until two more vampires corner her. Her hand starts to shake, the blade wobbly.

Marielle’s breath is cold on my ear. “You’re not going to win,” she whispers. Armin is back on his feet, going for the king again. He uses his powers, tossing objects his way, candles, glasses, a chair. Each time, the king knocks them away easily. “We’re going to wear you down, then drain you all of every drop of blood, slowly and painfully.”

“And what? Kill us?”