Chapter 10
931words
Our allied forces filled the square—vampires' crimson cloaks rippling like a blood-dark sea, werewolves' bone staffs planted in snow like strange trees. Tovak's cane still carried soil from the Sacred Grove, while Lucas supported a wounded packmate, eyes never leaving the palace gates.
"Open the gates!" Tovak's roar shook snow from the eaves. "Orden! Release the prince and answer for your crimes against both our peoples!"
The gates swung open with a mournful groan. King Orden stood on the steps, clutching a crystal vial filled with shimmering lavender liquid.
Behind him, palace guards gripped their spears with white-knuckled hands, eyes darting nervously. None had forgotten their comrades' fate in the Sacred Grove.
"My subjects, my allies." Orden's magically amplified voice rolled across the square, stopping commoners in their tracks. "This vial contains the Blood Curse antidote—salvation for all vampires. Lay down your weapons, and I'll distribute it freely. The prince will emerge to broker peace between us all."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Several elderly vampires stepped forward, their eyes fixed on the vial. They'd suffered the Blood Curse's torment for decades, their gazes naked with desperate hope.
Leicester squeezed my hand, crimson eyes narrowed with suspicion. "He's lying. After what happened at the Sacred Grove, why would he suddenly offer the cure so freely?"
I rubbed the contract ring in my palm, an idea forming.
I leaned close to Leicester. "I'll use Contract Magic to broadcast his true words. If he's plotting something, everyone will hear it." Leicester nodded, his fingertip tracing patterns across my palm—the vampire method of power transfer, stabilizing my Contract Magic.
I stepped forward, voice ringing clear. "Your Majesty, if reconciliation is truly your aim, speak plainly before all—where is the Prince now? Will this antidote truly be given to every vampire who needs it?"
Orden's face froze momentarily before his smile returned. "The Prince rests in the royal chambers. I've prepared enough antidote for all—" Before he could finish, a guard behind him coughed nervously, eyes flicking toward a hidden door on the palace's eastern side.
I instantly activated the Contract Magic, my ring blazing to life.
Orden, oblivious, whispered to his captain: "When they approach, loose silver arrows from the hidden door. Kill Leicester and Isabella first. The antidote? Nothing but poisoned sugar water—bait for fools."
Through Contract Magic's power, his whispered treachery reached every ear in the square.
The elderly vampires recoiled in fury. "Liar! I knew you couldn't be trusted!" From among the commoners came another cry: "The poisoned wells three years ago—that was you too! That's how my son died!"
"Death to the tyrant!" The cry sparked an avalanche as commoners surged forward, brandishing farm tools and kitchen knives. Several young palace guards threw down their spears. "We serve you no longer! Your reign is built on lies!"
Orden's face drained of color. He spun and fled toward the palace doors. "Stop them! Release the silver arrows—now!"
But as the secret door swung open, Lucas and his werewolves were already there, claws shredding bowstrings before a single arrow could fly.
Tovak raised his cane, and elder werewolves moved to block every possible escape route.
Leicester pulled me through the palace, down corridors both grand and neglected—royal portraits hung askew, golden floor tiles dulled with dust. This was Orden's legacy: rot beneath splendor. We found the royal bedchamber door ajar, the prince chained to a marble pillar. "Help me!" he cried upon seeing us. "Orden planned to blame me once your peoples started killing each other!"
The moment we freed the prince from his chains, cheers erupted outside. We rushed to the balcony to see Orden pinned against the steps by angry commoners. The crystal vial lay shattered, its lavender contents seeping into snow and turning black on contact—poison, just as he'd admitted. Tovak ordered silver chains brought forth. "To the dungeon with him. Let him contemplate his crimes in darkness."
Suddenly Leicester gasped, clutching his chest as he sank to his knees.
I caught him, watching in amazement as the Blood Curse mark on his chest began to fade—from angry red to soft pink, then vanishing entirely.
He looked up at me, golden light flashing through his crimson eyes—the power of vampire royalty, long suppressed by the Blood Curse, finally unleashed.
"The Blood Curse… it's gone." Leicester rose slowly, stretching as his crimson cloak billowed in the wind. "With Orden's power broken, the curse has lost its hold."
Cheers swelled from the square below. A young vampire girl approached a werewolf boy, offering a bouquet of wildflowers. "The elders always said werewolves were savage," she said shyly. "But you're actually quite kind." The young man scratched his head, accepted the flowers with a bashful smile. That simple blue blossom in the snow marked the first tender connection between their peoples.
Tovak approached Leicester, offering a bowl of potent werewolf liquor. "From this day forward, the palace belongs to the Prince. Our peoples must sign a lasting peace—never to raise arms against each other again." Leicester accepted the drink, touching his bowl to Tovak's. "And we must ensure the common folk prosper, free from tyranny's shadow."
I stood in the square's center, taking in the scene—vampires and werewolves clearing debris together, civilians sharing fresh bread with former enemies, the prince deep in conversation with Lucas about reforming the palace guard. The covenant ring still warmed my palm, but no longer for battle—now it served to protect this fragile, newborn peace.
