Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 17: Breakfast for Two

I sat on the table and gazed at Keel's bed. He was still asleep but I sensed that wouldn't be the case for long. He'd rolled over twice in the last half hour, nearly sending me out of my skin each time.

This could be done when he was awake, but it would lose some of its impact and I was going for a grand gesture. I finished my preparations and lied back, occupying the same place Keel's victim had the night before. I wore the same metal monstrosity on my arm. Reaching up, I ran my fingers along its sleek metallic surface before grabbing one of the screws. I twisted it and felt nothing. Then twisted it a little more. While I could mimic the set-up and the girl's prone position, I couldn't feel her pain, not like this anyway. There was a tug of a guilt, but I let it go. This wasn't about pain. Not that kind of pain anyway.

Keel sat upright in bed as if someone had stuck a live cattle prod between his sheets. Sorcerer blood, among its other properties, proved to be one hell of an effective alarm clock. His motion from the bed to me was a blur of black pajamas and white skin. He came back into focus in front of my eyes, half bent over the table, staring down. Confusion, anger, hunger and about a half-dozen other emotions fought for face time. I grinned up at him congenially and raised my arm. "You did say you wanted breakfast, right? Well, breakfast is served, Your Majesty."

Keel stared at my arm, but he didn't take it. "How did you get free?"

"How do you think?" I kept my voice steady, casual, confident. "Magic. I'd be a pretty lousy sorcerer if I couldn't melt a little bit of metal."

Keel looked like he was about to go off, but I wasn't sure if he was angry at himself or me. "But I didn't-"

"What? Smell blood?" I'd been prepared for this question. Its answer was the first thing I needed to figure out if I didn't want to have to explain what really happened while he was sleeping. "Have you forgotten how good I am with shields? Just because I can't keep you out any more, doesn't mean I can't keep the smell of my blood in." Keel had seen me do this during our grand escape, so there was nothing to sell here, except why I'd break the terms of our deal, but that's what the rest of this was for. "In case it isn't clear, I haven't stretched myself out on this table to make war. Grab a glass, take a sip and let's talk."

When Keel hesitated, I rolled over onto my side, picked up the clear blown-glass goblet I'd selected from the cabinet and shoved it into his hand, but his fingers remained open. If I let go, it would drop to the floor and shatter at his feet.

"This isn't a trick," I assured him. "This is how we move forward."

Keel took the glass and stared at it like it was something he had never seen before and couldn't fathom. I used my free hand to guide his wrist under the spigot. There was a brief moment of resistance, then acceptance. He may have been giving in to me, but it was much more likely that he'd given in to the blood. As the goblet slid into place, I twisted two more of the screws, and released the cap. The blood came fast, splattering down into the glass and pooling at the bottom.

"Enough," Keel said when it was halfway full and I stemmed the flow.

I brought my arm to rest on the table as he raised the glass. He examined my blood inside it, then gave it a gentle swish, coating the sides with red.

"How long have you wanted me here like this?" I asked.

Keel turned away. It wasn't the sort of question one asks a king, but it slipped out before I could correct myself.

Of course, he didn't need to answer. His desire to devour me predated his ascension to the throne; it went all the way back to the first time he'd tasted my blood. We just pretended it didn't for a time.