Prince of Lies [COMPLETED]

Chapter 43

The Spiderweb soldiers brought Gheorge to Langensay by nightfall, and he took one grave look at the scene and said: "Manallas."

"Manallas?" Frederick repeated.

"Vampyre-demon species of women with gigantic bat-like wings. We tried to exterminate them for centuries, but they always seem to come up somehow. Look." Gheorge lowered to his haunches, pointing with his cuffed hands at the nearest body of a villager ripped in two. "They've ripped him apart, and the body is missing vital organs. That indicates that they've sucked them out. Are all the bodies like this?" Frederick nodded. "Yes. Definitely manallas, then. But to know for certain ..." He yanked the breeches of the nearest body down, causing Frederick to raise his brows. "That garish residue signifies that this man was used. Forcefully. That means the manallas have used the males in this village for breeding. In twelve months, there will be an influx of them. They're looking to increase their numbers."

Frederick shuddered. "So how do we find them?"

"Well, they can fly. That means they can be anywhere, really. A horrible thing to take you by surprise." He rose and searched the land. "They're likely building their nests in some high, dry, cold place to store their young. Mercury arrows and superb marksmen are your best bet. Where they'll strike next and when ..." He shrugged. "That's anyone's guess."

And thus, dealing with the consequences of dethroning Arabella had to be actioned immediately.

There were hundreds of species of demon, ghoul, faerie, and even vampyre that needed to be noted. Frederick spent every spare moment he could at the village, investigating bodies, making lists, contacting villages, churches, and tribes, warning them all of what might descend upon them.

And when he wasn't at Langensay he had to return to Thescan and endure the budding courtship of Saebane and Arabella. A sickening feat to behold in itself.

No matter the day or night, neither of them would be seen without the other and they couldn't be avoided.

Not at dinners.

Not at meetings.

Not even during his studies in the library when he went to look for any creatures he could question Gheorge about. All he had to do was make the mistake of looking through a window and there they would be. Saebane and Arabella. Strolling in the sunshine.

Sometimes he would be ashamed of himself. His people needed help. The manallas needed to be studied, their patterns predicted before the next strike.

But his mind would continue to wander ... his heart reaching for her with invisible fingers.

She could put an end to this. She would hold the answers.

And that was why he needed to be near her. Not because he longed for even a moment where they were alone, but because she had the answers that Saebane seemed desperate for her to withhold.

Only getting her alone had become an impossible task, and day-by-day, she slipped further from his reach.

#

Arabella laughed at some joke Saebane made, twirling the rose he'd given her in her free hand. Frederick and the others followed several paces behind them, his jaw sore from the strain of clenching it all day.

She hadn't spared a glance at him once. Not during the morning meeting where they discussed in detail how to approach the other rulers of the Star, not during lunch, nor when they took a break-too engrossed in whatever Saebane spoke or did.

She'd even taken to responding to Rathmore's comments, nodding her agreement with his strategies or arguing with him directly. She loathed him and yet, she gave him the acknowledgment that Frederick sorely craved. And the bastard seemed to know it. He'd caught the vampyre with a satisfied smirk on his face more than once.