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  “I’ve come to apologize.”

  She stopped and turned to him.

  “And tell me the truth?”

  “I wish that I could.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Why would you think I’d want an apology without an explanation?”

  “Look, I know you don’t like the Dracos,” he said. “I don’t either. I have it on good word that they aren’t who they say they are.”

  Careful Anton.

  “Is that so? Who are they, then?”

  “Liars,” he said. “Imposters.” A half-truth. “And I want you to know that I intend to expose them.”

  “You do realize that my wedding is the day after tomorrow?”

  “I do,” he said. “I’m here to warn you. If they try to do anything before the wedding that feels wrong, don’t give in to it, okay? It could make things much worse for you.”

  “You feel wrong, Anton.” She tossed her swords to the ground in a clatter. “Nothing about you makes sense. What you can do. Why you’re here. I just want honesty. From you or from them. Is that so much to ask?”

  You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.

  “Everything will be clear in a few days,” he said. “I know you don’t trust me now, but I need to say this. I’m here to help you. Those Dracos are not.”

  He watched her hands ball up into fists and her pale cheeks turn red.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I know it doesn’t,” he said, “but when the time comes, you might have to make a choice. Trust your instincts when it does.”

  “Thanks for the advice,” she said with obvious sarcasm, turning her back on him.

  He left it at that, hoping that at some level he’d gotten through to her. He wondered if he shouldn’t have said anything at all. He thought again of the rumors of strange rituals between Draconians and humans, the ones of obedience and altered minds. If only he could tell her the whole truth, but it was still too risky. There was always a chance she’d go through with a ritual like that, and if that was the case, he couldn’t have her knowing who he was and what he was capable of.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Only one day remained until the wedding, and Ana and Anton were in the process of transforming the castle gardens into an even more magical place. The ceremony was to take place at dusk, when the magicians’ illusions would be better accented by the dwindling twilight.

  They set up their usual spread of lights, interspersing them over flowers and tree branches and programming them to twinkle like fireflies. Fog would accompany the princess’ procession. The king thought it would give the bride an other-worldly aura, a request that Anton couldn’t help but chuckle at. The Draconians would provide their own ‘other-worldy aura’.

  Wooden chairs from the dining room were set out in rows. Castle servants hunched over them with paintbrushes and sandpaper, rubbing them smooth before adding an extra layer of stain so that the wood was silky and fresh. Gardeners pulled budding weeds from the flower beds. Each time the door to the castle opened, Anton got a whiff of the chefs’ preparations inside. The feast was to be so elegant that it would take a full twenty-four hours to prepare. Every detail was set to make this the most magnificent wedding that Jagari had ever seen.

  That is, until the groom was to be brutally murdered during the ceremony.

  King Gareth came around intermittently and surveyed the progress. Though he sometimes watched Anton and Ana work, it wasn’t bothersome. His intentions were never more than simple curiosity, and Anton doubted that they were giving away their magical secrets by letting him watch. He’d usually smile and observe for a few minutes, tossing in comments like ‘splendid’ and ‘how delightful’ before continuing his rounds.

  Anton had taken a liking to the king. What he lacked in intellect, he made up in enthusiasm and positivity. That didn’t necessarily make him the ideal candidate to run a kingdom, but Anton supposed a well-meaning simpleton was better than a sadistic evil genius.

  In the late afternoon, Anton was busy setting up some simple fireworks. An alchemical shop had provided the ingredients to add a pyrotechnic flare to their display. The king had come to visit only a few minutes prior, but Anton found himself in the man’s girthy shadow once again. He turned and nodded. The sunlight hit his eyes so that all he could see was a silhouette.

  “What are you working on now… old chap?”

  Gareth fumbled those last words. Anton suspected spiced wine was at play. A few feet away, Ana carried on with her duties.

  “We have a new display for you,” Anton said. “You’re going to love this one.”

  “Is this a new type of magic?”

  “New for you, I think,” Anton said. “We haven’t done something like this here in Jagari yet.”

  “And do you think, perhaps, you can tell me how this one works?” the king asked. “I’m just dying to know your methods.”

  Anton gulped and stood up. The king’s request caught him off guard. He’d assumed the man enjoyed his blissful ignorance. After all, why wait until now to ask?

  “A true magician never reveals his secrets, your highness.”

  “So it is true magic, then? How… marvelous.”

  The King paced over to Ana. His shoulders hunched in an unnatural way.

  “And you, madame, are you sworn to secrecy as well?”

  Ana looked to Anton, who tried to remain expressionless. He felt Gareth’s eyes shifting toward him, as if awaiting his reaction.

  “True magic…” Ana spoke slowly, “cannot be explained easily.”

  “My word, you two are something else.” The king forced a laugh. “And I suppose we should expect a few more surprises tomorrow as well.”

  “What kind of magicians would we be if we didn’t provide any surprises?” Anton said, trying to grin.

  He suddenly found the king’s presence disturbing. The man seemed to be hiding something. His grin was not one of amusement but of self-satisfaction.

  Then Anton saw the glint of yellow in his eyes. His blood chilled.

  “Very well,” said the impersonator. “I’ll look forward to seeing what you’ve come up with. Tomorrow will be a wonderful day, indeed.”

  With that, he strode back inside the castle. Anton waited until he was out of sight before turning to Ana in a panic.

  “He was one of them.”

  “I could sense that.”

  “Impersonating the king?” Anton whispered. “That’s an awfully strange risk to take this close to the wedding. Imagine if the real king came out while the fake one was here. They’d risk everything just to take a shot at us revealing our plan? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Perhaps they also have a bioscanner,” Ana said. “They might know where the royal family is at all times.”

  Anton hadn’t thought of that.

  “True, but did they really think we were just going to spit out our plan? We wouldn’t do that even if we thought it was the real king.”

  “Perhaps they were trying to frighten us,” Ana said. “We have concluded that they thrive on fear.”

  “Surely they couldn’t know…”

  Ana shrugged mechanically. It was a new gesture for her, but she almost had it down.

  “The Draconians are highly intelligent and technologically advanced,” she said. “Perhaps they managed to survey you setting up the trap.”

  “I did it in the middle of the night,” he said. “I could barely see myself doing it.”

  He quickly glanced up at the spots where he’d concealed the two parts of his trap. On the castle’s rooftop, the bag containing Hectus’ crossbow was invisible but for the tiny spring-loaded strap that would send it cascading below. A brick still concealed the tiny hole where the bolt was lodged into the wall, ready to rocket out at Anton’s remote command. He looked over both shoulders before walking over to it, then ran his fingers along the brick. It looked the same as any other. Ana followed.

  “There’s no way they could know, r
ight?”

  “It is statistically unlikely.”

  “Somehow, I don’t find that comforting.”

  He led her back to the fireworks. He tried to focus on the simple task, but soon a question popped into his mind.

  “Ana, which one do you suppose that was?”

  “The imposter?”

  “Yeah, who was impersonating the king? Matteo? Matthias?”

  “Is it important? They are all working together.”

  “It might be.”

  “I do not believe we have sufficient information to make that guess.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” Anton said, feeling disturbed. His laser pistol hung heavy in his vest pocket. “Let’s just do this as best we can. Our plan B isn’t all that enticing.”

  ***

  Petra climbed the stairs to her quarters, sweat dripping off her skin and giving her a chill despite the warm day. Once alone, she stripped away her clothes and hung her swords up on the wall. She normally only practiced with Thaddeus once per week, but she’d requested an extra lesson today. The meditative exercises were the only thing that would calm her nerves.

  Her wedding day was tomorrow. A day she’d dreamed of all her life. It seemed much more romantic when she was a child. There would be a handsome, charming man that she loved. A union of two wonderful families. She was no longer so naive to expect magic from matrimony. She could accept that political unions were the primary goal for marriages like hers, but she certainly hadn’t thought it would end up like this.

  Perhaps Matteo would prove to be a better spouse than she thought, and perhaps the Dracos would save her family from their financial sorrows. But she doubted it. The more time she spent around those strange people, the more they repulsed her. Each time they spoke, she sensed that their every word was an ink-black cloak hiding their true intentions.

  Then again, perhaps that damned magician was getting into her head. He and his assistant were every bit as shrouded in mystery as House Dracos. She knew not to trust the warnings of a man who refused to identify himself and his purpose. Yet, his secrecy seemed less malicious than the Dracos’. Despite lying to her, she intuited benevolence from him. Then again, perhaps she was just more inclined to trust him because of how damned handsome he was. She juggled the thoughts in her head, alongside his cryptic warnings.

  Petra sighed and threw herself on her bed. With or without answers, the event that would seal everything into place was only a day away. Her parents were clueless, each time she expressed concern, they insisted it was only nerves.

  “I had doubts on my own wedding day,” her mother had confided in her. “And look at us now. I have no- very few regrets. Your father and I have a wonderful life together.”

  Without anyone to turn to in her most desperate moments, Petra could do little else but lay on her bed and pound it with her fists.

  A knock at the door interrupted her misery.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me darling, your fiancé.”

  She sat up, her heart pounding. Her skin crawled at the word ‘darling.’ Her betrothed had taken to pet names during their daily walks, and it didn’t sound natural in the slightest.

  “Matteo? What are you doing here?”

  “I’d like a word with you.”

  Petra looked into her mirror. She was still covered in sweat, her hair unkempt. She quickly grabbed a towel and wiped herself off, then frantically looked around for anything to wear.

  “Just a moment,” she said. “I need to make myself up.”

  “If you must, Petra.” Matteo sounded mildly annoyed. “But I assure you that it isn’t necessary.”

  She found a simple red dress and brushed through her blond hair in a hurry.

  She took a deep breath and opened the door.

  Matteo smiled mischievously. His face looked recently shaved, his clothes freshly pressed. She had to admit, he looked somewhat handsome, but in a creepy, too-clean sort of way. It was far from Anton’s rugged allure.

  “Darling,” he repeated, “I have something very special to share with you. A Dracos family tradition. It won’t take but a few minutes, and it’s very important to my family.”

  “Oh,” she replied. “Okay. Do I have time to have a bath first? I’ve just been exercising.”

  “Trust me,” he chuckled. “You’ll be glad you haven’t bathed before this. This tradition is a bit… messy.”

  “Oh... alright.” Her stomach churned.

  Petra cautiously made her way out the door, her heart pounding in her chest, her mind racing. Matteo offered no explanations as he led her through the hallways toward the living quarters assigned to House Dracos. Every muscle in her body screamed at her to make a break for it, but her feet fell steadily, quietly behind her betrothed.

  After all, what could she do? If she refused to join him, she’d have her parents to answer to. She could already hear their voices in her head.

  I’ve told you they’re strange, Petra, remember the joke? Just go with it.

  It’s your duty, honey. We need this more than anything, and we can’t do it without you.

  “I realize that you might find this tradition to be a little unnerving,” Matteo said, “But I assure you, there’s nothing dangerous about it. It’s been passed down through House Dracos for many, many years. It’s important to us, and we want to share it with you.”

  “Okay.” Petra gulped, the anticipation killing her.

  Eventually they reached the set of three doors that led to the family’s living quarters. The first two were closed, but the third was wide open. She could see flickers of candlelight glowing and tossing shifting shadows on the wall. Matteo gestured at her to enter.

  Petra felt all the sweat she’d wiped away seep out again. Each step that she took toward the open door made her feel closer to her doom. When she finally turned the corner, she was met with a grizzly sight.

  Eliza and Matthias stood in the back two corners of the room. All of the furniture was removed. They sat perfectly straight and still, smiling like madmen in their black and green robes. On the floor between them was the corpse of a deer, its belly ripped open, eyes glossed over in hopeless terror. A white sheet lay beneath it, splotched with blood. Dripping candles surrounded the mutilated corpse.

  Petra froze, her eyes wide like full moons. Her body trembled. Eliza gestured her forward, but she could not will herself to move until she felt the gentle touch of Matteo’s hand on her back. It made her shudder again. At his insistence, she took a step forward.

  “Do not be afraid, child,” Eliza said, as if it were so simple. “We will show you.”

  “You are to be our daughter,” Matthias said, “and we wish to share something with you of great importance to our culture.”

  “I understand that it seems barbaric,” Matteo breathed down her neck. “But it is perfectly safe. This deer has only been dead for a matter of hours, and we have already sliced its belly open to check that it is untainted.”

  “What’s safe?” Petra yelped. “What in the name of God are you expecting me to do?”

  “We want you to partake in communion with us,” Eliza said. “Please, let me be the first to demonstrate.”

  The woman lowered her hood and gave the dead deer a look, both hungry and loving. She knelt onto the white sheet and put her hand over its belly. For a moment, she closed her eyes and looked upward as if in prayer. Then she lowered her head.

  Petra couldn’t see exactly where the foreign queen’s mouth ventured, but it seemed to be at a spot slightly above the split in the belly. She was still for a moment before Petra heard the slurping break the silence. Recoiling in horror, Petra realized that Eliza had not only bit into the deer’s flesh but was drinking its blood.

  After a few seconds or minutes - Petra was too frightened to tell - the woman pulled back and looked at her. Crimson streaks dripped from her chin.

  “Don’t be afraid, Princess,” the queen smiled.

  As if Petra had a choice in
the matter. Her body shook under the repugnant touch of Matteo’s hands on her shoulders. Strangely, the three members of House Dracos did not seem deterred by her fear. If anything, the princess’ disgust seemed to bring them macabre pleasure. They sneered.

  Eliza knelt back as Matthias touched her shoulder and took her place. He hungrily consumed the blood, slurping at it more noisily than she had. When he pulled away, his black and white beard was wet with blood.

  “Why?” Petra stammered, clutching her stomach. “What do you get from this?”

  “House Dracos comes from a band of hunters,” Matteo said. “We were the best in the region. It’s why we ascended to the throne. Hunting is a proud and sacred tradition for us. It was why we were so honored to join your father several days ago. But being such an old tradition, it comes with certain superstitions. Long ago, when a hunter from Dracos made a kill, he was said to be cursed by God if he did not drink from its veins. The hunters would gather around, taking turns. It bonds them.

  Eliza continued for him, “We keep the tradition alive by performing it on special occasions. Bonding experiences. Weddings are the most important. They say that a bride drinking with her future in-laws will provide a bond that will last for the rest of their lives.”

  “I’ve… I’ve never heard of such a thing.” Petra didn’t know what else to say.

  “We figured that much,” Matteo said, moving around her and kneeling before the deer. “I wish there was a better way to ease you into it, but it is not such an easy thing to make someone understand.”

  Matteo lowered his face to the deer and took several long drinks of its blood. He wiped his face on his sleeve before turning back to her.

  “Please, Petra,” he said. “Let’s do it together.”

  Petra froze in horror before finding words.

  “I... don’t know... if I’m comfortable with this.”

  This was a blatant lie. She knew very well if she was comfortable with this.

  “You don’t have to drink much,” Matteo said. “Even just a couple drops will do. You might find that you like the taste more than you think.”

  Petra’s mind was torn in a million directions at once. They watched her with an unwavering severity mixed with unconvincing gentleness. She was at a loss for words. Their looks said If you refuse, there will be consequences.