Ruler [Blood Magic, Book 3]

Chapter 51: A Kingdom for the Keeping

In the week since Keel told me of the sorcerers' declaration of war, I'd seen little of him. Between readying the Nosferatu troops, hastening the packing and shipping of the museum's contents and other vampire valuables, and conferring with nearby enclaves, there was little time left for anything else, including me. When he was around, he didn't want to talk, do magic or even kiss; he was alternately drained and preoccupied, worried and short-tempered. Nothing like the king he'd been when he'd been making bets with me in the arena.

We're going to be magnificent, Mildred. Whatever happened to that? I wondered. Whenever I tried to draw him out, he'd retreat to the surveillance room, where I didn't dare follow him.

I had no idea what was happening with the coming war, but nothing about his behaviour led me to believe it was good. I'd have asked my father for updates, but he'd pulled a similar disappearing act. Even Arthos' visits became infrequent. I could still count on Ankor, but he knew even less about what was going on than I did. The feelings of frustration, helplessness and impending doom conspired against me, so I shut them down whenever I could. Sometimes with Ankor's blood and sometimes by standing on the roof of the storage facility in the middle of the night and screaming until my throat felt as if it would tear itself to threads. Catharsis proved in short supply, however.

When Keel showed up in the royal chambers midway through the night about a week later, I was shocked. I'd grown used to him leaving as soon as the sun set and not appearing until after it rose, this unscheduled visit sent a flutter of panic through my stomach. What had happened now? Only something terrible would tear him away from business of war.

That's when I noticed the largish box in his hands. It appeared to be a present, though whatever the hell Keel had wrapped it in didn't look anything like gift wrap. Rather, it had the weight and texture of commercial-grade parcel paper.

"Well, at least after ignoring me for a week you have the sense to show up with a present," I joked.

Keel frowned.

"Not a present?"

"No." The seriousness of his tone matched the stiffness of his shoulders.

"What is it then?"

"The first part of a new treatise."

"That's a really big box for a piece of paper."

"It's not a piece of paper," Keel said as he yanked the tape off one end and removed the brown wrapping to reveal a white box beneath. "Close your eyes."

"What? No! I want to see," I protested.

He carried the box to the dining table, near where I was standing, and set it down. "I thought you trusted me?"

"Hell no," I said, half-joking, even though it felt wrong to do it when death was just fourteen days from marching and I didn't feel any more prepared now than when I'd first heard the news. But Keel was here and talking to me, and I hadn't realized how much I missed his presence until five minutes before when he'd come crashing back into my world with his mysterious box.

"Okay, maybe you shouldn't," he admitted, "but I still want you to close your eyes."

"Yes, fine, okay," I said and scrunched my eyelids shut, just wanting him to get on with it. What the hell was in the box?

I listened as Keel tore the tape that held that the lid in place. That sound was followed by the gentle rustle of the lid lifting up and away. More crinkling noises, and then something hard and heavy landed on my head. Something that felt like a-

Oh my god, what the hell is this? I thought, as the fluttering in my stomach wound itself into a F5 tornado. Magic bubbled up under my palms. Very nice, Mills, always fight, never flight.