Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 41: After the Altar, Before the Execution

Ephraim had gone topside by the time we left the Argarast tomb, departing a full day ahead of schedule. Keel watched bemused as I stormed around the royal chambers cursing my father out for more than a half hour, before reminding me this was probably for the best. We needed to be calculated not angry in our approach to him. I calmed myself down by putting all the fallen books back on Keel's desk, carefully flattening out each of the crinkled pages before closing their covers.

As it turned out, Ephraim's rapid departure proved fortuitous. It allowed Keel and me to return to normalcy far quicker than we might have if he'd remained in the compound pulling strings and pushing buttons. Like our forty-eight hours out of time, Keel and I didn't talk much about what had happened in the Argarast tomb, but on some level it informed our every decision and interaction.

In the days immediately following, we spent most of our time drafting an evacuation plan for the compound's non-combatants - half-vamps who had not yet transitioned and those who worked in the administrative, education and cultural preservation sectors. But it wasn't just his people we needed to concern ourselves with, the compound's sacred texts and artifacts as well as that godforsaken crypt would also have to be relocated, as it would be sacrilege to have any of those things fall into sorcerer or, worse still, human hands. Luckily for us, most of the Nosferatu world was still tripping over itself due to Keel's newfound use of magic, and he'd been able to secure the cooperation of several neighbouring enclaves - with a few provisions. Namely, Keel's people and possessions could be sheltered under their roofs, but the king and I were to stay away. No one wanted the sorcerer war machine on their doorstep. It was incredible how effective the sorcerer threat was; Keel was considered all-mighty but even his fellow Nosferatu didn't know if he'd stand a chance against an army of magic users.

He proved himself remarkably patient throughout this process, stopping to explain everything I questioned, and always making sure that he treated my opinions as valid, even when I myself realized I suffered from too much humanity. He was clearly overcompensating for the events in the tomb, but the ways that night had changed me could only be fixed with time not kindness. While that altercation had cemented our alliance, it had collided in a rather devastating fashion with the rest of my burgeoning feelings. I could work with the darkness, walk into the battlefield hand-in-hand with it, even be its best friend, but I didn't know if I could be with it. Every time my brain dared tread back in that direction, all I saw were pitch-black eyes, bottomless hunger, and the way his mouth had snarled around "sorceress." That was always somewhere within him. Always. The word haunted me now.

In that, pre-transition Keel had been right, knowing - truly knowing - would change the way I viewed him and our future. It was impossible that His Majesty didn't feel some of that remoteness through the bond, and we began to touch one another less and less. Where we'd once been growing more comfortable, we were now developing new distance, even if it wasn't reflected in any other aspect of our lives.

As the days passed, I began to take more and more sustenance from Ankor, and whenever I did, we talked. His openness - he'd wax on and on about whatever topic was on deck - was refreshing. He also understood his place, which granted me a strange sense of safety, even though I knew it made our exchanges woefully uneven. Yet, he always seemed just as grateful as I was for our time together.

More surprising still, we gained a new ally. Our combat prowess went a long way towards impressing much of the disappointment out of Bruce and our eagerness to improve our techniques, along with the attentive way we listened to each of his instructions, took care of the rest. One evening Keel launched into a particularly biting yet hilarious bit of commentary as I was nursing my ankle after tripping over his sword when I should've leaped clear of it, and Bruce actually laughed. Three days later he joined us for lunch. By the next Monday you would have never guessed he'd had a problem with us at all. All the time and distance just seemed to evaporate.