Beast of the Damned #2

*Chapter Thirty-One*

~ TRISTAN ~

The greatness of a ruler can be measured in many ways. How well their subjects perceived them, the vastness of their lands and reach, and the gold and silver that line their coffers. In the world we devils of darkness have built, only the wicked prosper.

"You're late," my mother says, her red painted lips never moving as she continues smiling. She tips her head to the long line of vampire waiting for her to receive them.

"I had matters to tend to." I retain my post beside her throne. She sits to the Dark Prince's right, Thron between them with Kalista to his left. My mouth tugs into a fervent, bowel-ingesting grin as Zaidan and his patch-covered eye look my way.

Permanent nerve damage. Shame Kalista couldn't stand the sight of his unable to close black eye. It gives the spoiled brat a more menacing demeanor befitting a son of the Prince of Darkness.

"Queen Rakasha, by our Maker's crown shall the Vondarrie flourish." A member of the Kazimier bloodline bows.

"You reek of your human." My mother extends her hand, allowing the second eldest of the Kazimier bloodline to kiss her ring. It would have been Vaden Kazimier who was bestowed this honor if I hadn't made him go splat.

"Tantalizing, isn't she?" I mimic the obligatory royal head tilt when the Kazimier's gaze flicks in my direction.

A vein in Elaine Kazimier's forehead pulses into sight. If she isn't careful, I'll relieve her from that anger and watch as she bleeds out into the cracks of the floor like the Kazimier before her.

"Glorified are those who see in the night," my mother responds, poised, prim, and proper.

A bellowing horn crescendos amid the mingling guests, freezing the myru and meirru who are supplying this evening's festivities in place. The piercing sound fades like a fog rolling back, yet the promise of death it bestows lingers, clinging to the un-nerved humans and awakening the spirits the reside in us as the vampirie.

The crowd parts, the Prince of Darkness shifting on his throne as the massarra in his vamperial garden make their grand entrance. Each one adorns an amulet that extends the reaches of the protection spell he cast on his chambers. The amulets are sewn into the massarra's flesh, affixed to their collar bones—Amulets of Lilith. Lilith was the coven leader of the Circle of the Eye my father slaughtered. Of course, the Dark Prince stole the most powerful brukah ever in existence's grimoire. With it, Lilith could have toppled him.

Drums sound as the massarra in the vamperial garden take their place in the center of the room before the royals. Violins join in as the first massarra raises her arms above her head with a grace and fluidity a human could never achieve within a span of their short lifetime.

Adalynn and Cora appear within the evenly spaced massarra, blindfolded. Their feet stomp into the ground as they spin, pivot, and twirl to the ancient ritual of the Blood Siren. Their heartbeats clash with their every move, wetting the salivating mouths of every vampire who bears witness.

The medallions clinging to the massarra's archaic garbs clink  and clack  with the thrashing of their hips as the tempo increases.

Bewitched by the ritual of the Blood Siren the massarra are performing, the highborn and their offspring gather around. For a moment, I see Kinley dancing among the other massarra. The gray and ebony banners decorating the castle of Valderanna fade while the scantily clad servants and slaves disappear. I'm left staring at Kinley in the woods, spinning with her arms above her, her intrinsic light intensifying like the swell before an obliterating storm. The blood in my veins reacts, simmering beneath my surface. The taste of Kinley still lingers on my tongue; her life force felt in the stillness of my chest as it aches from the echoes of her heartbeat.