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Drakonia doesn’t look much different at night as the sky is always crimson red, shielding sunlight and moonlight. The buildings in Drakonia are modern, with sharp edges and darkened glass. I follow Preston through the doors of the tower and into the elevator. The glass tube ascends to the highest floor, splashes of tan sand and crimson sky offer dreary scenery. It’s this moment I’m glad I didn’t grow up with Preston. Thraves, even though Drakonia’s neighbor, is filled with color, sunrises and sunsets, green plants and varying shades of wildflowers and berries.
The elevator rises high and higher into the sky. As it stops the doors whoosh open to a long corridor. It’s more inviting than the outside, with a burgundy runner over the polished wood floors. The metallic blue hue of the walls shimmer under the recessed lights.
From a distance, I spot two vampires standing rigid outside a door at the end of the hallway. They appear like small statues from a distance, like two vampire nutcrackers propped up for décor, and seem to grow in size as we near them. One is a man whose body is nearly the size of the door, a jacket buttoned over his bulky chest. It’s muscle bulk not fat. I don’t think he has any flab. The buttons holding in his hulking chest puff out as though they might pop any second. His eyes flash yellow. I guess he’s a cat.
All vampires have increased speed, agility, and senses, but differ in their unique talents. Some portal, others mind bend and mind wipe, and yet others transform into beautiful large cats with mega sized teeth and claws.
A female in a dress suit stands beside him. She’s tiny, not much larger than Jine, but size in a vampire can be their strength instead of a weakness, mostly because they don’t intimidate. Increased speed and agility is a gift of a second life, and the smaller a vampire the more nimble and cunning. She is a pint-sized deadly force.
The door opens as if enchanted and the male moves his bulk to the side to allow our passage. Preston stops and takes a stoic spot next to the female vampire. He isn’t joining me? I remember he didn’t last time, either.
I assume guards will be inside the room, too, but they aren’t. I’m alone and take the liberty of flopping onto a soft burgundy sofa as I wait for the holocall. The fabric is a delight against my skin and the stuffing molds my frame. I don’t wonder long or think much, when I realize I’m not alone.
A tiny woman stands in front of a long, wide window. Did she portal? No, I would notice the light. No, she’s been there, silent, creeping, waiting. It is the slight rustle of her dress when she turns that catches my attention. Her face, covered with a veil, is angled at the door and I sense her eyes staring at the guards who quickly close it. I’m alone with M’ra? A pint-sized deadlier force than the one outside the door. Rumor has it she only allows her most trusted advisors alone in a room with her.
I don’t take my eyes off her, nor do I speak. If this is her, the holocall hid her size just as the veil hides her face. A red satin dress hugs her delicate, proportionate curves. The veil is shimmery gold, different than the one in the call. I wonder how many she owns. Do they hang in their own closet? Why does she hide herself? It isn’t a secret, yet has no answer.
“It seems we have a lot to talk about,” she says, turning towards me. The red silk flashes under the lights. Our eyes lock. I feel her piercing stare through the fabric of the veil and a shudder runs up my spine.
All I can think is: no, we don’t. I have no business with her other than Provence and I don’t feel I need her permission for that. “No, we want Provence. That’s it.”
She strolls to a chair that’s a perfect match to the sofa I’ve flopped onto. I don’t straighten or cower to the woman. She doesn’t sit, her fingers mold over the backrest. “I don’t blame you for your actions, nor the hybrids for theirs. I am willing to agree to giving you Provence. It was created with realm walkers and seems just it should belong to all of you.”
What? I’m boggled. If that’s how she feels, then why am I here? Does she want to help...? I erase that thought immediately. M’ra does what’s good for Drakonia. She won’t give unless there’s a catch.
Her voice is almost sing-song as she speaks, “Drakonia has long been a safe haven for hybrids. It isn’t their first choice, but many have come here seeking asylum, which I grant in most cases. But I don’t make this decision lightly or alone. The other realm leaders must be convinced.”
I don’t get to black mail her? It’s almost disappointing.
She chuckles lightly.
I’m intrigued and confused. I expected...I don’t know. A fight. Yet she’s giving me the green light to take Provence. I wonder again, why. What’s in it for her? Is Drakonia overrun with hybrids? My tongue twists as my brain sorts. I can use her. “I have the help of many, now I need the help of the leaders most empathetic to our plight. I am your future realm walker as well as Thraves’. All the other realms will know of my parents’ little dalliance, but I can give you a realm walker. A natural born realm walker.” Not that Ryel is mine to give. She’d have to agree.
She pads around the chair and sits proper, with her legs tilted to the side. “I don’t need a realm walker for Drakonia, although I’m interested in this one you say is natural born.”
The cocky edge in her tone tells me more than perhaps she wants. My brain links the pieces. I never bothered testing the blood running through my veins, but I don’t need to. I always knew, I think, or suspected. There’s only one more ancient and powerful than the others, only one, and I’m stuck in a room with her. “You. It’s your blood running through my veins.”
She nods and doesn’t attempt to deny it. “A single drop. I have seen, heard, and felt what you have, but only in flashes.” Immediately she changes the course of the conversation. “I was a child in the time of the great war. The fighting spread like an infectious disease through Sier and Canida into Aradia. Navarin was frozen into an icicle by ice dragons. Verboten was a hotbed of politics and unfriendly to their enemies as they sided with the lycans. It all started when the dragon king’s son grew ill and it ended with the dragon king’s death and the creation of realm walkers. The veils stopped the wars and brought peace, but it has been hundreds of years and we have progressed no further.”
I straighten at her confession. It isn’t a shock, but I can’t fathom why she’s confiding in me. What does she want? The thought twirls and spins in my head. “You aren’t against us.” Her words and sincerity tell me that and I feel stupid stating the obvious “Why do you encourage us to stop?”
Pressing her elbow on the arm of the chair, she runs a finger over her manicured nails. “The first generations of realm walkers had work to do, starting with rebuilding the realms, setting up cooperation between realm leaders and starting the day trading in Provence. Each generation’s vision changed, but nothing else changed once the purebloods were comfortable. Instead of protesting, start with conversations with the realm leaders.”
There’s value and wisdom to her words but her tone hides her true intentions. Her words are smooth, emotionless. I shake my head. “Our protest is peaceful.”
I feel her eyes drop to her lap. “It isn’t the realm leaders you need to worry most about. Purebloods are inferior and they know it. By keeping a strangle hold on realm walkers and hybrids they feel powerful. Protesting will remind them they are weak. Their connection to magic less than equal to yours.”
That’s why I’ve worked with the other realm walkers, teaching them all the ways to use their connection. I don’t think any will be harmed, yet better safe than not. They need to learn.
Her eyes lift. I sense them on me more than I can see them through the veil. “This won’t end the way you want it to. Someone will die.”
I expect some amount of discomfort and even violence, but death? Murder isn’t common in any of the middle realms. The meaning behind her words doesn’t hit me in that moment. Even if everything she says is true we are peaceful, our protest isn’t a riot. We have no weapons.
She sighs with a shake of her head. “For an incredibly powerful, charismatic, intelligent, and skilled realm walker, you are young. Rethink your plans and call on the realm leaders to meet you half-way. If you have their support, everyone will be safer.”
No, the queen of Navarin already attempted to spy on us with shells. What are the other realm leaders planning? “Thank you for your support.” I stand, without giving her another glance, and walk to the door.