Chapter Thirty-Two
Propped against a tree amid the other wounded, Mikhail watched Izeling Tower burning in green flames, the eerie aura rising high into the heavens. Mina’s dragon flame had caught the castle on fire when she returned from tracking down those who’d tried to flee back to Dragon’s Eye. Mikhail had already been down on the battlefield with the rest of his men when she flew over in a roaring rage, burning the north battlement.
Next to him, Brennalyn wept over the prostrate Duke of Winter Hill, with Izzy wrapped tightly in her arms, now asleep after her ordeal. Friedrich bled from numerous battle wounds, but one had made a definitive mark. Brennalyn had stayed behind in Izeling, waiting for the fighting to end. And now she lay her head to Friedrich’s chest, her black hair sprawling over him as she wept and wept.
“Kitten, you’ll have to stop crying like that.” Friedrich pulled himself up against a tree trunk. “I’ve still got one good arm to hold you with.” To exemplify, he tugged her close and caressed her back, the stump of his left arm now stitched and mending since he’d fed from one of Vietka’s girls. Then he placed a hand atop Izzy’s golden head with a smile.
Strangely enough, Vietka and her women had traipsed back to the battlefield to help those holding onto life, knowing the vampires would need blood to self-heal and the humans would need tending. The people of Izeling had swarmed out in droves to help, carting many back to the church, which had become a hospital for the wounded victors of the Battle of Dragon Fire, a name one of the locals had already dubbed it.
Brennalyn shot up off his chest, fury pinching her brow. “I want to kill the one who did this to you.”
“No need, darling,” crooned Friedrich, playing with a lock of her black hair. “Riker took care of that for me.” He nodded appreciatively at the man, standing with his arms crossed and leaning against a tree.
“You’re quite welcome, Your Grace.”
“I want to kill him again,” muttered Brennalyn, seething.
Friedrich smiled up at her. “Now, kitten. We’ve had enough death for one night. And look at Riker. He does quite well with only one eye. I’ll do well enough with one arm.” He glanced to Riker. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
Arabelle strode up with Marius at her side, a severe cut on her forehead already mending itself. Marius, a gash torn through his armor and shirt below the ribs, knelt beside Friedrich.
“Are you all right, cousin?”
“Good God. I’m fine. Everyone, stop fretting over me.” His severe tone shifted when he looked at Brennalyn and cupped her face. “I’m alive. And that’s what matters.”
Arabelle blew out a heavy breath. “Quite right, Friedrich. Many lost their lives.”
Marius glanced back at the burning tower, an otherworldly flame consuming the evil dwelling brick by brick. “But many more would have had it not been for Vilhelmina.”
“How is Sienna?” asked Arabelle. “Someone told me—”
“She’ll be fine,” said Mikhail. He had bitten her right after he killed Dominik to ensure healing began at once. Her injury wasn’t as bad as it had appeared at first, though she wouldn’t be out of bed for a long while if Nikolai had anything to say about it.
Arabelle crossed her arms. “You know, Marius? I hated Mina for being betrothed to you when I first met her. It seems I should’ve befriended her from the start. We might’ve ended this war before it had ever begun.”
“Kind of hard to befriend your kidnapping victim.” Marius smirked.
Arabelle rounded on him. “She was a bloody royal vampire. My enemy.”
“And now you’re a bloody vampire. And a royal one as my wife.”
“Has anyone seen my damned brother?” asked Friedrich.
Grant marched up at that very moment with Katya and Dmitri. “Miss me already?”
“Thank the stars.” Friedrich scowled. “I hadn’t seen you since that damned queen plagued us with ice-pick hail.”
Grant glanced down at his brother’s missing arm, a severe frown pinching his brow with anger and concern.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” snapped Friedrich. “Don’t you start, too. I’m all right.”
Grant cleared his throat, seeming to swallow his anger. “I only want to know one thing.”
Friedrich rolled his eyes. “What’s that? If I killed the bastard who did this?”
“No.” He shook his head lightly. “How the devil all you vampires look like you’ve been beaten to shit and I’m rosy as a day in spring?”
Friedrich grinned. Marius laughed, then grabbed his injured side with a wince. Grant knew what his brother needed.
Mikhail glanced at his own brother, Dmitri, who knelt beside him. “Do you need a bleeder? They’re kind of on short demand at the moment.”
Mikhail shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Let those worse off get tended to first.”
Dmitri glanced at his blood-soaked stain, scenting the extent of his injuries even though Mikhail’s black attire didn’t show how badly he’d been hurt. The truth was, he was weak. But he’d certainly heal.
“Oh, my dear Katya. Seems you’ve sustained a few injuries as well.” Grant arched a devilish eyebrow at her as he sidled intimately closer. “Brennalyn says I taste awfully good. I’d be more than willing to sacrifice my blood for you.”
Mikhail and Dmitri exchanged a knowing glance. She didn’t enjoy the flirting kind of man.
She tilted her head and whispered softly, “If you and I were the last two on Earth, I’d fall into a bloodless sleep before I drank your blood.”
He grinned wider, pulling at a loose leather strap on the harness crossing her chest. “The lady doth protest too much.”
She slapped his hand, vampire swift. “I’m not a lady.” She stormed past him and marched off.
“Perhaps not.” Grant watched her walk away with ardent admiration shining in his expression. “But you are a very fine woman,” he whispered mostly to himself.
“Mikhail!”
He swiveled to the sound of Mina’s sweet voice. She’d donned someone’s heavy cloak, her bare legs and arms exposed as she ran toward him, her eyes still glittering green with the residue of magic. A line of Bloodguard marched behind her, including Gregoravich and Yuri.
She knelt and crushed herself to him. “I was so scared you didn’t make it.”
He buried his head in her hair, inhaling the wondrous scent of sunshine and white jasmine. The scent of joy and passion. And love.
“You’re shaking.” He slipped a hand beneath the cloak, gripping her waist to determine that she was indeed naked beneath. He hauled her onto his lap, snuggling her closer.
She pulled back enough to look in his eyes, her emotions bright on her face. He smiled and wrapped her nape gently, stroking a thumb along her jaw and whispered, “So the white queen wasn’t exactly what we thought, was it?”
She laughed, cupping his face. “No. It was more.”
Without a care for propriety, he melded his mouth to hers, slipping his tongue inside to taste his woman, to remind her she was his and he was hers. He quickly learned that not all parts of him were so injured.
“Ahem.” Marius.
They broke apart and looked at their staring audience.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he continued. “But we couldn’t see everything that happened on the battlements. The ice storm was thick. I need to know…is my mother dead?”
Mina’s expression softened to compassion. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. She is dead. I—”
He raised a hand and sighed relief, squeezing Arabelle closer with a kiss to her crown, their armor clanking together. “Thank the stars.”
Mina relaxed in Mikhail’s arms. “I’m afraid your father is gone, too.”
He glanced toward the burning castle. “I knew that. I knew she wouldn’t let him live.”
Gregoravich, covered in bloody scrapes on every piece of exposed skin, leaned against a trunk. “Her damn man Radomir escaped.”
“We’ll find him,” assured Dmitri.
Yuri nodded in agreement as they shared a silent vow to track down all who’d escaped.
“Did everyone get out of the castle? The servants?” Mina’s eyes were round with dread. “The king’s daughter?”
Mikhail squeezed her close, knowing she feared in her rage she’d killed innocents with her dragon fire. “The Bloodguard swept the entire castle when the flames caught on the rooftops. Everyone was taken clear of the castle.”
“But we never found Lucille, the king’s daughter,” added Yuri.
They were all silent for a moment, wondering what might’ve happened to the young, frail princess. Hopefully, a servant had helped her escape like the knight who’d helped his great grandmother Tamora so long ago.
Mina turned her attention back to Marius. “You must take the throne at Glass Tower, Your Highness. With your queen, Arabelle, at your side.”
Arabelle grinned, her vampire-bright hazel eyes widening. “Queen!”
Marius laughed. “Unless you plan to abandon me.”
“Hell no. I’m going to be the best damn queen Varis has ever seen. Oh, except you, of course, Mina.” She prattled on, her face lighting with ideas. “We’ll start legislation right away, change the caste laws and property laws.” Her eyes gleamed brighter. “And open charity houses for those who’ve lost too much. Oh, and orphanages.”
“I second orphanages,” said Brennalyn. “I can help you with that.”
“First,” interjected Friedrich. “We’ll return to Winter Hill. With our children.” He glanced at Mina. “And you’ll return to Briar Rose. We need to put all back in order, assure the people they are protected. Then we can start on Arabelle’s plans to change the whole world.”
“Yes,” said Mina softly, turning her gaze on Mikhail. “I’ll return to Briar Rose.” She clutched a fist in his shirt, as if he planned to break his vow and not go with her.
“I heard what you said,” said Nikolai, stepping up out of the shadows. “I also know it was your healing bite that helped Sienna. Only a powerful elixir could heal her so quickly.”
No one realized Nikolai was there until the silence drew his gaze away from Mina and to the sober, blond-haired vampire. All other eyes rested on him as well.
“What was that?” asked Mikhail.
“I heard what you told the butcher king. Before you ripped his head off and threw it over the wall.”
Silence settled among the group, all intent on Nikolai. There was import in his purposeful gaze and slow words. Mikhail waited, knowing his secret would be no more. Now was the time to own it.
Nikolai stood straighter. “You’re the great-grandson of Rodin Varis. The brother and king who sat on the throne before Morgrid murdered him.”
Brennalyn gasped. All eyes locked on Mikhail, except Dmitri, who stood beside him, arms crossed over his chest.
“Aye,” said Mikhail. “I am he. King Rodin’s wife was with child when Morgrid bit him. He didn’t die right away. When Queen Tamora fled to his side to help him, he bit her in his raging bloodlust, turning her unborn child vampire. My forefathers changed their name and hid among vampirekind.” He gripped Mina tighter. “But I’ll hide no more. I am a Varis, and I’ll take back the name that was stolen from me by that dead witch burning up on that hill.”
He nodded toward Izeling, sweeping his gaze back to the shocked faces around him. All except Dmitri who grinned from ear to ear.
“Aye,” agreed Nikolai, his mouth quirking on one side. “Then you are the rightful heir. Your Majesty.”
Mikhail frowned at the title.
“Oh, hell!” exclaimed Arabelle. “That means the Glass Tower is yours.”
Marius opened his mouth to speak, but Mikhail silenced him with a hand in the air. “I don’t want the Glass Tower. I just want my name. My true name.” He turned to the woman on his lap and cupped her sweet, beautiful face. “And Mina.”
She smiled, the emerald green fading from her eyes, returning to the deep sea-blue that had caught him from the moment she opened her eyes in that tower at Briar Rose. Lacing her arms at his neck, she nuzzled close and whispered against his lips, “You have me. My king. You’ve had me from the very start.” She leaned close, pressing her cheek to his, her mouth near his ear. “I dreamed my dark prince would come and save me. And you did.”
He murmured against her ear. “I believe we saved each other, my love.”
She embraced him tighter and he her, for there was nothing more to say. Mikhail had always followed his strategic plans—a captain’s best asset—seeking the goal of triumphant victory. But in the end, he’d only needed to follow his heart. A lesson he was sure Mina would teach him over and over again. And he looked forward to every one of them.