The Consort's Fate

Chapter 3

Finn

A collection of clouds looms overhead, blanketing the sky in a morose canvas of gray. Moisture builds within them. They bloat and distend from the pressure, slumping closer to earth with a windy sigh of defeat. The air is thick with heat and holds its breath in anticipation of the storms to come. Lightening flickers like a pulse of the sky. Each beat grows in strength, stretching its fingers closer, closer.

The moment before a thunderstorm holds the promise for change. There's electricity in the air, and it's as if Fate itself is ready for a change.

"Mr. Primary is looking for you, Mr. Secondary."

I still at the familiar voice. After years of being cooped up in this fortress, I believed I would earn the right to privacy. However, time doesn't seem to play a factor. The intruder takes his place beside me, leaving the proper distance between us to respect the differences in our species and subsequent, societal ranking.

"When it's just us," I say quietly. "Please address me by my informal title." Then, under my breath, I mutter, "I'm liable to forget my name otherwise."

"My apologies, Finn," my guard corrects, nodding slightly to emphasize his regrets. "Habit of formality."

I wave him off. "Besides, have you ever met a Secondary who cannot ingest food?"

My guard, Douglas, remains quiet. I turn towards him, leveling my gaze upon his.

"Mr. Primary insists I am a true Secondary and the rightful King to this nation, alongside him. But I see the looks, Douglas. I hear the whispers. The humans and Secondaries doubt me. They believe me to be a full vampire as opposed to their Secondary King. Unfortunately, I don't have the memory to confirm or deny the claim. I remember nothing."

Douglas shifts and lowers his gaze. He attempts to staunch the discomfort from bleeding into his expression, but I smell it through his emotions. The rumors are still circulating, then.

"Forgive me, Finn," he murmurs. "I don't know how to answer such a question. What species you are matters not to me. I believe you to be our true King; that is what matters."

"Even if I am fully vampire?" I test.

Douglas tucks his hands behind his back, clasping the fingers of his right hand around his left wrist. The blood flow strains around his wrist as he squeezes his fingers tighter around the tender flesh. His pulse thrums, and he peers up at the sky while deliberating his answer.

I shouldn't put him in such a precarious situation. To denounce me as his true King would be treason. To show support of a vampire, a species coined to be spawned from hell, is cause for death. Yet, I know it's the only way to get an honest answer.

"I have served you for the better half of a decade," he begins. "And in my time here, there has neither been a single human nor Secondary who has come forward claiming to know you before the war. Now, some say it's because everyone who knew you prior to the war was killed. Others believe they are still out there, forever silenced by force or by fear. Perhaps both.
     Like the rest, I did not know you before the war, but I have heard many stories. You are a mystery to the masses, and there is no clear way to discern the facts from the fantasies.
     People don't like mysteries, Finn. They like answers. So, they grasp ahold of the whispers and put you into a clear, defined box to appease their own selfish need for security. People don't know how to handle uncertainty. It's a weakness and a form of ignorance that's as old as time."

"You have an uncanny ability to sidestep my questions, Douglas."

A gentle smirk hovers around his lips. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't care where fact meets fiction. I don't care who you were before the war. Whether human, Secondary, or vampire, I know you. And the being that you are, regardless of the species associated with it, is someone I would be proud to serve as my King. Always."