King of the Vampires

Chapter Two

"She was a husk!" my father shouted.

His voice carried through the great hall. My father was not a small man, was not a soft-spoken man, was not a timid man. I could practically feel the blast of his words impacting me. Even though it wasn't directed at me, it made me want to cower.

But the jarl was unaffected. Perched on his chair, chin resting on his fist, the jarl looked down at both my father and I, boredom in his gaze. He absently pulled his fur lined robe tighter around his protruding belly. I was sure that we were not the first ones to protest this moon's Bloodletting and I doubted we would be the last.

"We all saw Lark when she returned," the jarl sighed.

"So you saw that she was reduced to nothing. You all saw," my father continued, opening his arms and gesturing at all the men and women in the building, most of whom were in line to also express their concerns. If they hadn't seen it first hand, they had certainly heard about it by now. Nothing stayed hidden in villages this small. They all nodded along in agreement with my father. I didn't doubt that half of them were here, arguing the same thing for their own daughters.

"My daughter was a shell," my father hissed. "The doctor said she was lucky make it through the night and those next couple of days had been torture. We didn't know if we were going to lose her. It cannot happen again. I will not allow it!"

My father seldom yelled. He didn't need to. With eyes that could read your soul and shoulders so wide they seemed to block out the sun, there was hardly a reason for him to get mad. But he was furious now.

"If you choose to withhold your daughter, you know the consequences," the jarl stated. "And doubling your taxes is the least of it. Say that a vampire has a taste for her and wishes to return and she's not there. Say they somehow find out that she was unmarried. The treaty will be void. Do you want to do that to your fellow citizens?"

I stood quietly beside my father, head down, gaze on the floor. But I could almost hear my father grinding his teeth.

"My daughter is to marry. Have you forgotten? She is going to marry your son."

I repressed the urge to flinch or to gaze down at the ring on my finger. It was a beautiful stone, prettier and larger than anything I had ever seen. The jarl's son was a decent man. He was kind enough, tall enough, wealthy enough. But when he had proposed, all I had thought was that I wouldn't have to go through another bloodletting. Too bad our wedding was scheduled just three days after the next ritual.

"I have not forgotten, but it does not change the fact that she is currently unmarried as it stands, as it will stand on the night of the bloodletting."

"And what of your son? What will he do when his bride to be does not show?" my dad challenged.

"George, you are putting the cart far ahead of the horse."

"What of your daughters? How come we have never seen either of your own children at the bloodletting?" my father pressed.

The jarl stiffened at that. "If I had known your family was going to be such a catastrophe to deal with, I would have never agreed to let my son marry your daughter. Now get out, before I have the guards remove you. Trust me, these men are good for more than just tying young girls to trees."

I could tell my father had a thousand things he still wanted to say. He wanted to shout and bellow until the jarl listened to him or the roof came down. But the guards were already in motion. My father grabbed my bicep and pulled me out of the hall.

The air was cold. Not as cold as it had been the evening of the last bloodletting, but winter was still refusing to give in to spring. One day there would be shoots of green grass, the next snow would return and I would be convinced that it would never leave. If the snow stayed even longer, we would have even less time than last year to plant our seeds, even less time to grow the food we needed to survive.

"Don't worry about the jarl, Lark," my father said from beside me, the snow crunching beneath our boots.

"Please don't rile him up too much. He is to be my future father-in-law," I chided. Sampson was a decent man to marry, but I didn't want his father to hate me before our life together even began.

"He doesn't have to be."

I rolled my eyes at the comment and approached my tethered horse with a pat on her shoulder. She turned her head to greet me, but kept her hoof cocked lazily on her back leg.

"Lark," my dad started again. "You know that this does not have to be the answer. You know that there are other men, men who would marry you tomorrow if given the chance. We can ride these horses from village to village until we find the right man for you--"

"I am marrying Sampson," I stated flatly while untying my horse.

"Why?"

Why indeed. "Because he's a good man," I replied. But a more accurate answer was because I knew him to be kind enough. I knew that the jarl never raised a hand to him in a fit of rage, that his mother had never been seen in town bearing bruises. And I knew that if I asked just sweetly enough, funds would be transferred to my parents or maybe the jarl would just look the other way when taxes were not paid.

I would live an uneventful, safe life. My family would be alright. It wasn't much, but it was more than I dreamed I would get for simply marrying.

"All I want is for you to be happy, Lark."

And all I wanted was for my family to be okay. "I know. I am happy," I said.

The two of us mounted our horses. My dad sat on the back of a stunning bay gelding and I on my pretty mare. We didn't have much in this life, but he had been gifted a fine eye for horses. If we had enough money to buy an additional riding horse, I was certain that he could use my mare as a broodmare and breed her with the perfect stallion to make the most fabulous foals. Unfortunately, I could not be without a horse, even if it was only for a few months.

We walked our horses back to our home, grimacing when the wind blew. I should have worn a heavier jacket and a thicker gown, something that didn't blow in the wind quite so easily.

But tomorrow I would be in my ceremonial white dress. I hated how I looked in it, already so pale and turning snow white. My blonde hair was just barely considered blonde, any less brass tones in it and it would be as white as a dove. In the freezing cold, it was a miracle anything wanted to suck my blood, I hardly looked like I had any in me.

But something had wanted to suck my blood. And my father was right when he said I was a husk when I returned home. I could barely remember that night and even less of the morning. I knew that I had been found by the guards, but only because it was the course of events and not by memory. Though I did remember the way my mother gasped and my little sister screamed when they saw me. That would be etched in my mind forever. Along with the weeks of bed rest afterwards.

Many said I was lucky to be alive. Others reminded me that returning home was a privilege. Some girls disappeared, never to be found again.

But it seemed escaping death once wasn't enough. I would do it again.

And I couldn't help but fear that I would not be returning home.

~~~Question of the Day~~~

What do you like to do when you travel?

I love touristy things like museums, but also relaxing or hiking in a more local, lowkey sense.