Chapter 9

“Well, Alexis,” Charlotte said a week later, pressing her palm to her forehead as she studied her clipboard, “the discs are out, you’re not bad with knives, but your swordsmanship skills are quite lacking.”

I grimaced, feeling as though I’d been given a big, fat F. The coronation ceremony was only a few days away and afterward, Char would be back out in the field. She’d pretty much come as far as she could with me, and I’d disappointed her. “Sorry. I can’t get comfortable with the sword. Tristan says to make it one with me, but I just don’t feel it. It apparently has no interest in me being one with it.”

Char chuckled and waved her hand in dismissal. “No worries. It takes years to become an excellent swordsman. Besides, swords are impractical in the Norman world anyway. They can be cloaked, of course, but they’re cumbersome when you’re mainstreaming.” Her hand darted into her cleavage and, in a snap, she produced a long-bladed, double-edged knife. She grinned at my surprise. “Which is why I prefer daggers.” She handed it to me. “Let’s see what you can do with this. Tristan?”

Tristan selected his favorite weapon—himself. With all the talk he’d given me about not completely relying on my powers, and about needing to be able to fight in all kinds of situations and with whatever tools I had, he used nothing but the gifts he’d been given. Of course, he’d had centuries of training and could paralyze someone in an instant, making weapons virtually pointless, although new ones were being made for him, “to be prepared for anything” as he put it.

The only way to evade his power was to be behind him, but he was so alert and so fast, it was nearly impossible to be behind him long enough to make a difference. I was the only one who’d been able to take him on and match his power, although he’d still nearly won. In fact, it hadn’t really been me who beat him that day. It had been the Amadis power boosted by a miracle.

In training, however, my Amadis power was useless, having only a positive effect on other Amadis, and I hadn’t been allowed to use my electrical power except a few times when Charlotte tested me. She needed to see what I could do and then see how it had strengthened over time, but that was it. So practicing with the dagger with Tristan meant using only my speed and agility.

The dagger felt more natural in either of my hands than any other weapon we’d tried. I easily danced around Tristan with it, twisting and turning without tripping myself up as I had done with the sword. Right when Tristan lunged at me, I did a spin and a hop and landed on his back, the dagger at his throat.

“Perfect!” Charlotte said with a laugh. “The dagger it is. And the beauty of the dagger, Alexis, is we can have yours made to take your powers, both the electricity and the Amadis. Whatever you want to use, you can pass it through the dagger. You will have a most formidable weapon. I’ll put the order in today, but you’ll need to go in tomorrow so the blacksmith can be sure he has the right measurements.”

I hadn’t expected an actual blacksmith, just the old-fashioned title given to whomever used more advanced technology in today’s age. But when Tristan and I went to the village the next day, he took me to a space that resembled a blacksmith shop straight from the Middle Ages—rustic and smoky, with the only light coming from several hearths with blazing fires. Except, unlike a traditional blacksmith, herbs and other reagents hung from this one’s ceiling or were kept in jars on shelves near the fires, I assumed to enchant the weapons and armory forged here.

At the hearth in front of us, a stooped, white-haired man tossed some kind of powder into the unnaturally green fire. The flames shot up, turning from green to silver, and he thrust a long piece of metal into the heat. His hands flickered with pink sparks as he turned the metal in his palms and whispered a spell. Finally, he pulled the staff from the flames and dropped it in a vat of water. He squinted up at us and then ducked his head.

“Ms. Alexis. Mr. Tristan. I’ve been expecting you,” he said, his voice gravelly as if he’d been inhaling the smoke in the shop for hundreds of years. With his dark, lined skin, perhaps he had been. He gave us a nearly toothless grin and held his hands out toward me. “May I?”

I stared at him with uncertainty.

“It’s okay,” Tristan said. “Ferrer needs to take your measurements. Just give him your hand.”

I hesitantly placed my hand into the old man’s rough and calloused ones. After a few long moments, his knobby fingers released mine, and he asked for my other hand.

“Very good. I will have your dagger and your knife ready to be presented at the coronation ceremony,” he said.

“That’s it?” I asked with surprise. What, exactly, did he measure?

“Yes, that’s it. Do not worry, Ms. Alexis, they will be splendid weapons. I told Ms. Charlotte the dagger would favor you, but she insisted on testing you, all the same. I have already the one meant for you to hold.” Ferrer gave me a wink and then turned to Tristan. “I will have yours ready then, as well, Mr. Tristan.”

As we stepped out of the shop into the bright daylight, an uneasy feeling overcame me. I stopped and studied the mind signatures surrounding us. Some felt familiar from the many trips we’d taken to the village, yet one, in particular, really stood out. Not because I knew it—I certainly had never felt it before—but because it was so different. Everyone’s signatures were unique, but they also had similar qualities, especially among the same species. This one was nothing like any of the others. I grabbed Tristan’s hand and pulled him up the road, following the signature.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Someone new . . . different. It’s weird, and I want to know who it is.

He sighed, but indulged me. The signature headed up the sloped road, and right where the business district ended and the road climbed higher to the Council Hall, the owner made a sharp right. A moment later, we rounded the same corner. The Council Hall was up the hill to our left and a storage shed stood in front of us, aligned with the rear of the shops on the main road. But no one was in sight. The mind signature had disappeared.

“Huh. They’re gone,” I said, turning in a circle to be sure.

“Maybe they flashed,” Tristan said as he tugged me back toward the road.

“Yeah, I guess—”

A sound came from behind us. We both jerked and turned toward the shed. Martin, Julia, and Armand were exiting the little building, Martin forever smoothing his shirt, his face pale and distressed. As soon as he saw us, though, he straightened his spine and smiled. But this didn’t distract me from seeing Julia’s tongue run across her lips or Armand’s eyes narrow suspiciously. What was going on? They weren’t feeding off of Martin . . . were they?

“Tristan, I need to speak with you.” Martin’s voice came out a little more cheerful than normal, and he hurried toward us, as if extremely relieved to see Tristan . . . or, more likely, to escape the vampires. Armand disappeared, and Julia headed up the hill, toward the Council Hall. “Owen and I have a theory, and I was thinking . . .”

I stopped paying attention to Martin and focused instead on Julia, who peered over her shoulder, as if checking to see if she was being followed. When she blurred around the corner, headed for the rear of the Hall as I’d seen her do months ago, I wondered what she could possibly be doing that required her to sneak in through the back door. Nothing good, I was sure. Not with that kind of treacherous behavior.

Out of the corner of my eye, I peered at Tristan and Martin. Their heads were close together, deep in discussion. Martin had told Solomon to keep a careful watch on Julia, but he wasn’t watching at the moment when she was obviously up to something. I could have read Julia’s mind, but I saw the opportunity and flashed to the rear of the Hall instead.

Just as I appeared, two backs stood in the doorway—Julia’s and another: Ophelia’s. The old witch held a copper flask in one hand and perhaps something else in front of her that I couldn’t see. Julia’s hand pressed against Ophelia’s shoulder, pushing her downward until they were both lost to the gloom inside. What are they doing? Was Ophelia delivering something to Julia? Did the flask hold more blood? Was Martin’s not enough for the gluttonous vampire? I wondered whose blood it was. Perhaps Ophelia’s, adding more magic to Julia’s system. Or . . . perhaps Rina’s. Solomon could be wrong. Julia could be gaining enough power. I had to find out.

I inhaled a deep breath while reconsidering my suspicions and blew it out slowly. Then following my instinct, which hadn’t changed, I stepped through the open door onto a narrow landing at the top of a steep flight of stone stairs. Below was darkness and strange noises, as well as Julia, Ophelia, and another mind signature. I suppressed a gasp.

This mind signature surprised me. It somewhat reminded me of Dorian’s—intense and animated—but not quite the same. It had a sharper edge to it. Yet, still childlike. A soft moaning floated up the stairs, the sound of a girl’s whimper.

I froze. My pulse pounded loudly in my ears. Could it be? I hesitated. Although I was Amadis Royalty, there were still boundaries I couldn’t cross yet, and I was sure this was one of them. Especially if . . . Exactly why I need to see for myself! The girl’s voice came louder, more of a wail. I hurried down the steps.

A corridor stretched out before me, most of it dark and dank with a coordinating musty odor, doors spaced evenly apart along each wall. A triangle of light lit the end of the hall, an open door allowing it to shine through. I took a single step, then stopped, once again debating whether to proceed or to enter Ophelia or Julia’s mind first to see what—

Whoosh! Air rushed past me. A bar of steel pressed against my stomach and a board against my back. My body flew up the stairs. Literally. My feet didn’t touch the ground. Then I stumbled as I was dropped into the brightness outside.

“You can’t be down there!” Julia seethed at me, her voice more screechy than I expected. I couldn’t, at the moment anyway, ever remember hearing her speak aloud. I cursed myself for letting her catch me off guard.

“Why?” I demanded. “What’s going on down there? Who is—”

Pop! Tristan appeared by my side.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking from me to Julia. He took in her expression and stepped protectively in front of me.

“It’s too dangerous, especially for you,” Julia hissed at me. And then she disappeared with a pop.

Tristan turned to me. “Are you okay? What—”

“Julia’s hiding a girl down there, Tristan! With Ophelia! What if it’s her? Our daugh—”

Tristan shook his head. “Lex, that’s where they keep Amadis who have broken the law and unstable converts. You probably sensed a young Were or witch who lost control. Who can hurt you. They’re delivering food and water. That’s all.”

“I want to see for myself. How do you know it’s not the girl—the hidden girl?”

“Right under the Council Hall where anyone can find her? That’s not exactly hidden.”

He had a point. And because I knew he would be honest with me, I gave in, let him take my hand, and lead me for the flash to our suite.

But the girl’s wail continued to echo in my mind.

The morning trip to the village threw off our schedule, and when we returned to the mansion, we discovered Charlotte had been called away to an emergency. So after putting Dorian to bed, Tristan suggested a workout in the gym.

“Let’s see what you can really do with this when you put your mind to it,” he said, handing me a dagger from the practice weapons. His eyes sparked with excitement.

I narrowed my eyes, suspicious of his motives.

“Oh-kay,” I said with hesitation, taking the blade from him.

“I mean, use your mind. Char’s not here. You’re free to use the best defense you have.” He grabbed a sword, the blade as long as me.

I lifted an eyebrow. “You never use a weapon.”

He flicked his wrist, making the long, thin blade bend and twang. “I thought I’d make it interesting.”

He winked at me, and I stared at him in a daze. Until I saw the glint of his sword swinging for my legs.

“That’s cheating!” I squealed, jumping over the blade.

“I use whatever advantage I can,” he said with a sublime grin that made my knees weak. The sword swung at me again, and I parried it with the dagger. “You have a bigger advantage than anyone, ma lykita. Use it.”

Just as I had done when we’d seriously been fighting each other in the Keys, I read Tristan’s thoughts and knew every move before he made it. I ducked, twirled, twisted, and danced around his swipes and lunges, blocking or dodging most of his attacks. We blurred around the room, sprang off the walls, and flipped, jumped, and cartwheeled over each other. Tristan jumped for an overhead beam, and knowing what he planned to do, I landed on it at the same time as he did, and our fight continued. We jumped from beam to beam and through the open skylights, briefly sparring on the roof, then back inside again. Then Tristan threw his sword down and lunged at me. I dove for the floor, planning to tuck into a somersault for the landing, but he grabbed me in midair, encircling me in his arms and turning to take the impact. He rolled me over to my back, pinning me to the floor. I squirmed, trying to break his hold and thought about shocking him.

But then his mouth was on mine, and I immediately surrendered.

“You cheated again,” I breathed when he finally pulled away. “That kiss wasn’t very fair.”

“You know what’s not fair?” he asked, the gold in his eyes sparkling brightly. He leaned his head down again, his lips near my ear, as he took my hand and moved it to his hard groin. He whispered against my ear, “What you do to me isn’t fair.”

His soft lips traveled along my jaw line and to my throat as I rubbed his erection through his thin workout pants. My back arched as his lips moved to my chest, my breasts aching for his touch. He nibbled my nipples poking through the sports bra then moved lower to kiss my bare stomach. His fingers slipped under my waistband, and I gasped. He moaned. He’d moved too low for me to reach anymore, so I took his head in my hands and pulled him up.

“I can’t, Tristan,” I whispered, although my body screamed, Yes, you can!

“Not even out here?”

“We’re too close. I can contact anyone in the mansion from here.”

His eyes penetrated mine, and I could almost see the gears turning in his head. A wide grin spread across his face, then he wrapped his arms around me. “I have an idea.”

He flashed, taking me with him. We appeared in a tiny clearing, surrounded by ancient cypress trees that seemed to touch the black sky, leaving just enough to show a moon uncomfortably close to being full.

“We wouldn’t be able to do this in a couple of nights—too many Weres would be running around,” Tristan said. “But right now, I don’t sense anyone for quite a ways. Can you?”

I dissolved my wall, and the mind signatures I felt were too far away, making them distorted and indistinguishable. However near the closest person was, they were beyond my mind-reaching capabilities. A smile stretched my mouth wide. I jumped into his arms, my legs encircled his waist, and I pressed my lips against his.

My hands tangled into his hair as I pulled him into me, separating my lips to taste his tangy-sweetness . . . mangos, papayas, lime, and sage. Mmm . . . delicious. I thought I might devour him, if he didn’t devour me first.

Keeping my legs tight around him, I only let go with my arms long enough for him to pull my bra over my head. I pressed my naked breasts against his bare chest, but not for long, as he slipped his hand between us, caressing and squeezing. His mouth traveled down my neck, and I leaned backward, his hands supporting me, so his lips could move lower, while I ground my pelvis against him.

“Alexis!” My name thundered in my head, but not in Tristan’s voice and definitely not in mine. I stiffened. My wall had already fallen, and someone had moved into range. I immediately zoned in on the mind signature and picked up the thought. “... There’s something about her . . .”

“What’s wrong?” Tristan mouthed against my breast.

“Stop,” I whispered. I let go of him with my legs and dropped lightly to the ground. “Someone’s coming.”

Tristan groaned quietly. “Are you sure?”

I listened for a moment and didn’t hear anything—in my head or with my ears. I shook my head.

“Just wait a sec. Maybe she stepped into range and out again.”

After maybe a minute that felt like an hour, I still didn’t hear anything and neither did Tristan. He pulled me back into his arms.

“She’s more powerful than expected.”

I pressed my forehead against Tristan’s chest and concentrated. The mind signature felt strange, unlike any of the others. She definitely wasn’t a Were or a vamp. The texture was similar to the mages’ signatures, but not quite the same. I thought maybe distance distorted it, but that didn’t make much sense, since I could hear her thoughts clearly. Another moment of focus brought recognition—it was the same signature I’d noticed in the village earlier today . . . and the same voice I’d heard at the council meeting.

I picked up my bra and pulled it on.

“Seriously?” Tristan asked, barely making a sound, but I could still hear the defeat.

“Sorry,” I mouthed. Weres and vamps had super-human senses and could hear the tiniest sound a mile away, so I explained telepathically. I think she’s coming closer. Let me listen.

He nodded reluctantly, disappointment filling his eyes.

“But is she powerful enough? Is she as intelligent as they say?” I could almost hear what felt like a snort. “Nah, she is nothing. We have our leverage over her. Over Katerina and Sophia, too. We’ll take care of them easily, and the plan will go perfectly. We just need to keep the girl hidden long enough.”

My hand flew to my mouth, and my eyes practically popped out of their sockets. I stood frozen until the thought was long gone. Then nothing. The signature traveled out of range again. I plopped to the ground, dumbstruck.

Tristan sank to his knees in front of me and placed his hands on the sides of my face, tilting mine up to his. He whispered only loud enough for my keen ears to hear. “What is it?”

I told him what I heard. “And it was the same council member. The same voice.”

“But she still didn’t say a daughter, just a girl.”

“What other girl would anyone want to hide? And both times she’s mentioned it, she paired it with my name.”

Tristan shrugged. “At least we know for sure this is the traitor, and there’s some kind of plan.”

“I need to figure out who it is so I can learn as much as possible. And I need to let go of this freakin’ shield so I can give Rina proof.”

“We can try again . . . return to what we were doing . . .” No enthusiasm filled his words, though, as he gave me a half-hearted smile.

I frowned, and he nodded with understanding. Our moment ruined, he took my hand, and we flashed back to the suite.

I couldn’t sleep. Visions of Sheree and how I’d almost killed her while trying to save her soul flashed in my mind, mixed with images of an auburn-haired, brown-eyed young girl trapped in a jail cell. With Julia’s suspicious behavior and the voice I’d heard tonight, I couldn’t help but think that’s whom they kept in the Council Hall cellar. My daughter. Taken from me at birth and hidden away.

Tired of tossing and turning, I slid out of bed and tiptoed into the bathroom, closing the door behind me before lighting the candle by the sink. Tristan surely couldn’t have slept through my restlessness, but I didn’t want to wake him in case he had. I stood in front of the mirror, pushed my fingers through my hair, and pressed my palms against my temples while staring into my own eyes.

“What if . . .?” I whispered to myself. And the answer came right back. I have to know.

I grabbed my spandex workout pants from the hamper and quickly pulled them on, along with the T-shirt Tristan had taken off before our trip to the gym. It hung to my knees, but I didn’t care. No one would see me. No one but . . .

Without any further thought, I flashed to the Council Hall cellar. Darkness filled the corridor, now that the door upstairs and the one at the end of the hall were both closed. My eyes adjusted quickly and skimmed the five doors lining each side of the hall. I was only interested in one. The last door on the left, the one imprisoning the only nearby mind signature.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I crept down the corridor. No handle, no indication of a lock or anything interrupted the stone face of the door, except a small opening toward the top with bars and a metal screen covering it. Magic probably kept the door closed and locked the prisoner inside—magic I wouldn’t be able to break through. I stood on my toes and peeked through the barred window.

A girl with stringy, matted blond hair and eyes such a pale gray, they were almost no color at all, huddled in the corner. She must have been about twelve years old—not my daughter—but looked younger, so pathetic and harmless.

“You can open it,” a girl’s voice sounded in my mind. “You’re Royalty. And you can help me get out of here. If that vampire comes back . . . I can’t take it again. What she does to me . . .”

I blanched. She couldn’t have known I could read her mind, so she simply thought words she couldn’t bring herself to voice, but her fear of what Julia did to her alarmed me. She flipped her arm out, and red indentions marked her skin in the crook of her elbow. I sucked in a breath. Bite marks. That was enough for me. I flicked my hand, and as she’d expected, the door slid open.

The girl sat motionless for a long moment, as if she wasn’t sure what to do. I stood perfectly still, not wanting to frighten her. When she still didn’t move, I took a step and crossed the threshold.

A high screech rented the air.

A blur of motion flew at me.

Her ears suddenly pointed up beyond the top of her head. Her eyes glowed pink. Her lips disappeared, exposing rows of pointed teeth filling her mouth. Hairy claws stretched out in front of her, aimed for my face. I noticed all this in a fraction of a second as she sailed toward me.

My hand flew up, and an electric jolt shot at her, throwing her to the corner she came from. She flew at me again. But a force jerked me out of the cell, and the door slammed shut, her body crashing against the other side. She let out a feral wail, muffled by the stone. Strong arms engulfed me, trapping me against a hard body.

“Damn it, Alexis. Don’t you listen?” Tristan growled. His voice was full of anger, but his hand gently stroked my hair.

“What was that?” I whispered. My heart still pounded against his abs.

He flashed us to the suite before answering. “Remember the potion Jordan and the witch created, the one that mixed the qualities of all the Daemoni creatures?”

I nodded.

“And you remember no one knew the exact recipe for it after his witch-lover died—”

“Yes, but the Daemoni continued trying to recreate it.”

“Exactly. They’ve been experimenting all this time. For centuries. They finally came close with Lucas, but he was a grown man when he drank it. They thought giving the potion to a man and a woman before conception would allow them to create the strongest, most powerful warrior ever. And they did.”

“You,” I whispered.

“Yes, me. But Lucas and I were the two exceptions. Every other experiment has gone wrong, producing things of your worst nightmares.”

“And that was one of them.” My voice came out hoarse, filled with horror as I stated the fact, no need to question it.

“Over the years, the Amadis have found a few experiments, abandoned by their creators. They keep trying to see if they can ever get through to them, overcome the evil and find any humanity, possibly convert them. They haven’t succeeded yet.”

I dropped to the bed, my hand over my mouth.

“But why would Julia feed off of her?” I asked.

“Julia would never—”

“I saw the marks.”

“You also saw what you thought was a harmless, young girl,” he said softly.

I nodded with understanding. “Illusions. Deceit. She’s still just Daemoni.”

Was this the girl being hidden? Did the traitor have some kind of plan to use her against us?

Tristan sat next to me and folded me into his arms. “Do you remember, in the beginning, how I had to fight to keep control so I wouldn’t kill you? That’s why they created me, why they keep trying to create warriors—to hunt down and kill the Amadis. I had nearly twenty years of being Amadis before I met you, twenty years to learn control, and I still hadn’t mastered it.” He tightened his arms around me. “She would have killed you without a thought.”