Blood Prince

After Zirga drank her fill, Paris spoke to her, his voice low. Before long, Zirga approached and nuzzled me. I stroked her soft mane, marveling at the midnight strands of fine hair.

“Thank you,” I said, and meant it. Without Zirga, I would have already been back in Menelaus’s grasp. I shuddered at the thought.

Zirga watched me with an intelligent gaze before slightly bowing in response. Then she turned, took off at a gallop, and launched into the violet sky, heading back the way they’d come. Her wings glinted in the suns, sending prisms of light down along the ground.

“Doesn’t she need a rest?”

“Zirga owns these skies and could sail through them all day.” Paris watched the creature meld into the firmament, gone beyond their sight. Wrinkles of worry marred his brow. “I sent her back for Daphne.”

I touched his arm. “She’ll be okay. I only knew her for a short time, but I could already tell she could take care of herself. She reminded me of my sister Iphi, quick-witted and always up for some mischief.”

“She’s tough. And smart.” Paris still stared back toward Pyli. “Even so, no one could stand against the demon horde.”

“She won’t have to. She’s long gone from the horde, safe and warm somewhere.” I didn’t know if I was trying to convince Paris or myself. Either way, I had to believe Daphne got away. Leaving a friend behind chafed, even if that friend ran faster than any demon ever could.

Paris gazed into the looming trees and along the unused road. A chill wind blew at our backs as if pushing us into the milky fog that swirled in the woods. I knelt and started combining various ingredients from my pack, making quick and dirty magic bombs.

Pausing, I followed his gaze along the road. “Does it lead to the Bloodkeep?”

“It must.” His brow was furrowed, worry etched on his handsome face. “The Bloodkeep used to be a center for trade and arts, the beating heart of the Underworld. Now, the vampires are subjugated to Desmerada’s will. They don’t like visitors. Neither does the Darkwood.”

I peered into the opaque wood. “We should stick close to the road but not stay on it. We set out now, break when we tire, and keep going until we get within striking distance. We have to make it to the keep as soon as possible. Then, we’ll figure out how to take it.”

Paris looked at me like I’d just told him we intended to storm the Citadel of Olympus and spit in Zeus’s eye. “The Bloodkeep is fifty miles away in the middle of the wood, surrounded by an immense wall constantly manned by hundreds of vampire guards loyal to Desmerada. Not to mention what lurks in the woods themselves. We may not even make it a mile in.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Okay, so what’s your plan?”

His face turned to stone, but turmoil was in his eyes. “Your plan is suicide. I will not let Desmerada kill you, and I will not hand you over to Menelaus. Never.”

“I agree. But if we stay here, we die. If we go back, we die. If we go in”—she gestured to the foreboding trees—“at least we have the semblance of a chance.”

“And then what?”

“And then we reclaim what’s yours—the Bloodkeep.”

He barked out a harsh laugh and spun away from me, setting his shoulders into a wall of refusal. I would never have allowed my warriors to turn their backs on me like this, never have suffered them to question my command. This was different. He’d been bent on protecting me from the moment we met. But that wasn’t who I was. My world was built on fighting and more than that, winning.

Was my plan rash? Sure. Did I have the details hammered out? Not remotely. But was it the best option? Definitely.

I had to convince him that this way—the way fraught with blood and battle—was the only way to save us both.

I took a deep breath. “Remember when you told me of your Helen, of how she could make a battle plan in her mind and see the steps to win before ever even setting foot on the field?”

He cocked his head slightly toward me, though his stance remained hard.

“Well, if I’m this same Helen, the one you knew and worshipped, why would you think I can’t do the same? I am a warrior of the gods now, Paris. If anything, I’d wager my skills have grown, not withered. And with a vampire army at my back, nothing could stop us from taking out Menelaus and ending the war between vampires and demons for good.”

His shoulders softened, but he did not turn, still regarding the stream that escaped the heart of the Darkwood and meandered into the grasslands.

I needed him to know, needed him to believe in me, though I’d never been one for grand speeches before battle. Instead of trying to rally him, I spoke to our bond. The one I knew bridged the distance between us, though I had no memory of how or when it was forged. But it was certain, as sure as the love I had for my sisters. I could feel it living inside me.