A Prince's Duty: Part 4

The bleakly beautiful landscape is soon obscured as the speeding carriage plunges into a thick fog. All around the wan moonlight gives the encompassing mist a ghostly glow but provides very little illumination inside. Seated in near perfect darkness you wonder how they hadn’t some lanterns for at least the horses to see by as they galloped headlong through the black of night. It dawns on you that the steeds may not be what they first appeared. The unnerving glint of two vampiric eyes in the darkness across from you was a reminder that you were far from home.

With no scenery to distract your mind Dahlia’s soft hand becomes even more of a lifeline than it already had been. Reflecting back it is not lost on you that your courage in the face of Ambrose and Vivienne was thanks in large part to having her at your side. She gave you someone to lean on, to protect, and to give you bravery. In this surreal new circumstance she provided you something familiar to hang onto. And based on the way she clutched to your arm you suspected the feeling was at least partially mutual. She’d been an unexpected boon and one that you were grateful for.

Over bone-rattling roads you ride, losing any vague sense of direction you had the process. At one point you know that you pass through a dark forest as you catch shadowy limbs reaching for the side of the carriage. Was it the same one you’d traveled through before? You couldn’t say. Without any bearings you couldn’t tell if you were heading North or South or East or West and thanks to the turns and switchbacks you weren’t even sure if you’d doubled back. The only thing that you knew for sure was that you climbing. Always climbing. The noise and jostle inside the carriage made conversation or even contemplation all but impossible and so, keeping a tight hold on Dahlia, you hang on and hope that you would arrive at your destination soon.

No more than twenty minutes pass before you rise above the damp fog that clung the valley floor. Up ahead you could see a castle the likes of which you’d never seen. The royal palace from which you’d left was squat and sprawling with square crenelations and plain rectangular windows and doors. The edifice you approach, dark and foreboding at the peak of a craggy hill, consisted of a collection of towering, pointed spires around a grand gothic structure that looked more cathedral than citadel. The whole effect made it appear as if a great, blackened skeletal hand had thrust its hand up out of its grave.

The carriage thunders through another village that huddled against the stone pillars and iron bars of a massive wall that ran right the way around the castle. He horse’s tireless hooves don’t even need to slow as the gate is opened up before you and closed again by shambling figures the instant you’d cleared them giving the impression that the castle grounds was swallowing you whole.

As you near the castle you marvel at the tall, slender stained glass windows that tapered to a point at the top. Here, there and everywhere fearsome stone gargoyles are perched along the walls and eerie white torches flicker in their sconces. In front of the main steps that lead to a set of heavy double doors the rocking and jostling mercifully comes to an end. You’d arrived at your new home.

The wheels had barely stopped turning when Ambrose is off of the vehicle and storming for the doors. “Bring him!” He barks without a backward look.

You catch the hint of a smirk on Vivienne as she gracefully slips from the carriage. Holding the door open she motions for you to exit.

You look to Dahlia who appeared nearly as overwhelmed as you did and whisper. “Here we go. Stay behind me. Stay close if you can.”

“Yes, Prince.”

Together you climb the stairs, you in the lead with Dahlia directly behind, as Vivienne and another mortal attendant flanked you on either side. When you crest the stairs the doors are already agape in Ambrose’s wake. Beyond you see a broad entry hall filled with dozens of figures. As they turn to look at you you catch the inhuman glint you’d seen in Vivienne’s eyes in each and every one of them. They came from all walks of life, nobles and commoners alike, but by the equal deference they show Vivienne as you pass by them you come to understand that there is a different pecking order in this court. You get the sense that among this society these this group formed the lowest rung. The crowd watches you as intently and curiously as that one back during the ceremony. But unlike then these people looked on you as if you were not the guest of honor but the main course.

Without a pause you are lead through this room into the great hall beyond where you find scores more of the pale undead having what appeared to be a party. Without exception were dressed to be seen, your ensemble perfectly at home among the rest. As you enter the hall the mingling and conversation stops cold as, again, every glinting eye turns your way. There wasn’t a warm blooded human among them besides those that had just entered. The haunting chamber music that filled the air fades away and not a sound is made as you are paraded through the center of the room.

Ahead of you, at the top of a steep set of stairs, sits the Countess upon an obsidian throne. At her side, his head bowed, is Ambrose whispering into her ear. Her brows rise at what he tells her. She nods her understanding then with a wave sends Ambrose away.

You shudder as the Countess’ cold crimson gaze looks down onto you. Up and down your body her sight pans and she is not displeased by what she sees. Your choice of attire was approved. It is difficult to hold still as the unsettling eyes of her children were a trifle by comparison to her. She seemed to look straight through your flesh and into your very soul. You bow deeply then rise again.

With a graceful swipe of her hand she beckons you to the arm of her throne. “Your place is here, my Prince.”

“Yes, Mistress.” You bow again then begin to ascend. A murmur runs through the gathering as behind you Dahlia obeys her orders and stays close to her Master.

“Fool girl!” Ambrose snarls.

“I-I-I…” Dahlia stammers, scared out of her mind.

Swallowing hard you find your voice, though in the cavernous room it sounds as meek as mouse’s squeak. “She follows on my order.”

“You were not summoned, girl!” Ambrose says, ignoring your words completely. “You will not approach…!”

“Ambrose.” The Countess says, her voice low and smooth yet somehow filling the hall. “I allow it.”

Chewing back his words Ambrose bows his head.

With your servant at your back you climb the steep steps and find yourself face to face with first vampire. “Mistress.” You whisper and bow again.

“You are causing trouble already?”

“Only in returning the trouble given to me.” You say. “I am your betrothed. It is a singular honor and one that I sought willingly. Unless it is by your will I shall not be treated as a common captive. In body and spirit there is only one I will submit to.”

“You’ve insulted Ambrose’s pride. He believes that you would do well to remember you are a mortal and he one my children.”

“He insulted my honor. He would do well to treat me with the respect he’d like to receive in return.” You bow again, deeper than before. “Respectfully.”

She stares a long moment then gives a slow nod. “There is steel in you. This is a pleasant surprise.” Her eyes flit past you a second before returning to dominate you once more. “Dahlia is acceptable to you?”

“Yes, Mistress.” You say. “She is to be my lady-in-waiting.”

Her left brow cocks. “Indeed?”

“If it is permitted of course.”

“It is. You like this girl?”

“Yes, Mistress. Very much so.”

“Very good.” She says as if she’d known it all along. “Then she will be our vessel.”

“Ves…?”

“Kneel.” She waves to the right side of her gleaming black throne.

Without delay you hurry to the Countess’ side to get down onto your hands and knees. As if she’d done it a thousand times before her fingers find your hair and she begins to pet you as she might a beloved hound. Dahlia blanches as she suddenly finds herself alone before the throne. With impressive resolve she remembers her orders and scrambles around to kneel behind you. The smattering of laughter accompanies your servant’s frantic motions but soon dies away.

“Today is the prince’s birthday.” The Countess announces to her worshipful flock. “Twenty-one years old. Twenty-one years.” She repeats as if the number itself was inconceivable. “Barely off of his mother’s teat.” A ripple of laughter spreads through the crowd. “Before the bacchanal he will be accepting, and expecting, a gift from each of the bloodlines.” Gifts? For you? You realize then that it really was a party that you observed as you entered. It was your own birthday party! “To make it a bit of sport the clan who pleases my groom the most shall have the honor of first blood.” Another ripple runs through the crowd, this one of excitement. With another wave of her hand the music strikes up again the milling and mingling commences.

You do not have to wait long before the first of your gifts arrive. Padding up the stairs with a grovelling bow to the Countess a dark skinned man in sapphire blue robes lays before you a beautiful jeweled torc of gleaming platinum. He smiles his fanged smile as his dark gaze pierces into yours. Subtly a foreign will tickles at the edge your mind as his gaze pushes deeper…and deeper…and…

You are snapped back to reality when without warning that unholy glint in the man’s eyes is snuffed out and the mind that had been intruding yours is suddenly just…gone! It didn’t pull away, it simply was not there. The man slumps face first in front of you, his body still in true death. Behind you Dahlia gasps as a din goes up among the gathered vampires.

Cold fingers glide down your neck as the Countess’ frigid tone brings the room to stillness. “The next one to touch what is mine will receive worse.”

Up the stairs scurry a trio of what you assume were members of the man’s bloodline based on their bowing, scraping apologies and claims they had no idea what he was planning. There is no mourning and no anger. Only abject groveling before the Countess’ power. The body is taken away and though there are some grim looks the party is soon underway again as if nothing had happened.

One by one the different representatives of the vampire bloodlines present you your gifts.

Part 5