I arrived back in the royal chambers too emotionally spent to even slip out of my formal robes. Plunking down in the chair at the desk, I cradled my head in my hands and tried to make sense of everything I'd seen, not only my feelings about it but also about Keel. He held such power now, and he'd overseen death as casually as his father had, as casually as my father had wielded it for him, and he couldn't even argue he'd been under the influence of his beast. That had been him. All him. Until now, I'd only seen small bursts of what it meant to rule a Nosferatu enclave, but tonight had blown that world wide open. If he wanted to, he could be that vampire with me; it didn't just rise with anger, it was something - someone - he could turn on and off. Even after all our time together, weeks spent sleeping next to him, he felt like a stranger all over again.
But isn't that what he's been telling you, that these parts of him are always there, will always be there? You've been listening but not listening. You're still too busy looking for someone that's gone, or maybe someone that wasn't there in the first place.
Since Keel made his confession in the crypt I'd spent many sleepless days trying to imagine half-human him thinking the horrible things he'd told me he had, and it was near impossible because he'd become so kind, but in the beginning when it was just curiosity and entitlement... well, he'd always been pitch perfect at manipulation and omission.
Yet if his people were once as doubtful of him as I was now, not anymore. In the arena, they'd been cult-like in their devotion. And the way they saw me was changing too; some eyes still held anger, distrust, skepticism, but I'd seen new things in them as well: jealousy and envy. They could see all I'd done for their king and on some primal level - one that went beyond mere bloodlust - they wanted me to do those things for them too. Once there was only the throne to covet, now it was the title and the sorceress.
But none of them would ever be to me what Keel was - even if I wasn't sure what that was myself - that's what they could not understand. Without him there was no me. Literally.
The door swung open and Keel entered in a swish of red, proceeding past me with speed. He set his crown down on the bed and unhooked the clasps on his robe, returning both to the closet where he'd taken to keeping them since I moved in. Or maybe he'd always done that, and I'd just never known. I was questioning everything again.
"You're quiet," Keel said, shutting the closet door.
"That was- You were-" I stuttered, having no idea how to articulate all the conflicted feelings in my head, awe and disgust, an inexplicable attraction and yet also a fear so great I felt frozen by it. I had magic, but Keel had power, on a scale I was having trouble wrapping my brain around.
"A king," he completed simply.
"No, more than that." I stood up and faced him. "You did that without hesitation, without emotion or regret. I don't understand how that's possible."
"Ask your father."
"He hates vampires. I'm asking you."
"Because it is the law, and because it was for you. Those Nosferatu wronged you and our enclave in an unforgivable way; that injustice has now been corrected. If I had not done it, it would have brought dishonour to you, and put ideas into the heads of other insurgents in other compounds."
"Don't make this about me."
"You were the one who was shot."
"You still don't understand."
"Maybe I don't, but I do understand that I will never let anyone lay a hand on you," Keel said. "I won't lie to you, seeing how you were looked at today, some of them may try." He stood up, walked down the bedroom platform, and came to a stop in front of me. His eyes drifted down my robe and then back up to my face before he continued speaking. "But if one should ever get far enough to unwrap you." Reaching out, he began to unclasp the robe's hooks, starting with the one under my chin. Once the opening around my neck was wide enough, he shoved it over my shoulders. It fell to an undignified heap on the floor, revealing my dress and his marks underneath. Keel paused and took them in, seemingly pleased that this is what I'd chosen to wear. Then he lowered himself to one knee, dipped his head forward and kissed each of my scars. "They will discover that you belong to me, and in simply touching your clothing they've condemned themselves to death. And I will rejoice in that death."
I stood stock still the whole time, unsure of who I was in the room with and what he planned to do. He hadn't tried anything so forward since the night in the tomb and the bond thrilled at his sudden renewed attention. The rest of me less so.
"You don't need to kill for me," I said. "I don't want you to do that."
"Maybe not. But I do." His words were so low and so firm I didn't dare dispute them.
"Apologies," he said, after a moment, and stood up. "Executions bring out our instinctual nature more than you're comfortable with." He turned and proceeded to the door, where he asked Boras to get someone to bring up a bleeder.
"You didn't have to order a bleeder, Your Majesty, my blood is for you."
The look Keel gave me was one of shameless craving, but he shook his head. "No, tonight I need more than you can give. If you remain willing, you can be dessert."
"My blood is for you," I repeated, but as I looked into his eyes I could see the darkness vying for control. He was summoning a bleeder to give it something to play with.
"And I am grateful for your offer," he said. "But sometimes one hungers for more exotic dishes. You may want to consider going for a walk while I eat."
A familiar queasiness settled in my gut. Things happened between Nosferatu and their bleeders, things I did not approve of or understand and had zero power to stop. Keel made me overhear one such exchange once, since then he'd spared me of them, though he made no secret of their occurrence. This was the honesty I demanded, the same honesty that made him so hard to live with.
"I understand, Your Majesty," I said, and strode out of the room still in my formal dress.
The hallways and elevators led me downwards until I stood in front of Ankor's door. I fished the key I wore on a string around my neck out from beneath my dress and unlocked the cell. He was seated on his bed, clad in a clean pair black sweat pants and a grey tank top. On hearing the door swing open, he sprung to his feet and assumed a reverent bow.
"Get up," I said, wanting no one to bow to me tonight. "I came here to apologize. I tried to save your family but I couldn't."
Anguish swallowed up every inch of Ankor's face. "They're all gone?"
I reached out and drew him into my arms, a kindness he did not accept without giving me a look of grave suspicion. "Everyone except your half-brother and Milo Noor."
Ankor stepped back out of my hug. "How did you?"
"They are children. And I don't care who is in charge around here, I'll have no part in children being murdered."
"And he acquiesed to that?" Ankor's words were full of reverence.
"My relationship with our king is complicated."
"Maybe you have cast a spell over him."
"Not like that." I brought my fingers up to the scar tissue on my chest.
His eyes followed my hand to Keel's marks. It was the first time he'd seen them. His look of awe turned to disgust. "You're a sorcerer, why would you let a Nosferatu do that to you?"
"I told you, it's complicated, but those complications saved two lives. Three, if you want to include yours. Not the ideal outcome, I know, but in here we have to celebrate the small victories."
"So you came here to have a drink then?" He sat back down on the edge of his bed.
"Yes. No. I came here because His Majesty and I have different ideas about bleeders and celebrating, and I'm bored of waiting out his antics in the museum. The sorcerer scalp doesn't talk back."
Ankor gave no reaction to my terrible joke. "You know, with those marks, he should be doing whatever it is he's doing up there with you."
"He's hurting them," I said, the sick feeling turned to full-on nausea. "Sometimes he does that."
"And what Nosferatu doesn't? There's a certain thrill in breaking a freshie."
"Did you used to hurt your bleeder?"
Ankor stared at the floor. "It's... it's customary."
"Well, he doesn't do it to me."
"Are you sure? Those marks say otherwise."
"Didn't I just say it was complicated?" I wasn't sure why it came out sounding so defensive. Isn't this exactly what my father had feared would be the conclusion drawn by Keel's people when they saw his marks?
"You're jealous," Ankor said.
"Of what he's doing up there? No. It makes me sad. A lot of things make me sad these days."
"We are what we are, Sorceress Sarker."
"And I am what I am."
"And I'm alive because of that." He patted a spot beside him on the bed and I accepted the invitation. "Have I mentioned lately how thankful I am for this bed and furniture and those books and all that other stuff you got for me?"
"You should not be thanking me on the day I watched your family die," I reminded him.
His face crumpled again and then straightened. "But I still have a little brother."
"You do."
"Are you thirsty?"
I nodded.
He raised his arm and I chose a soft spot near his inner elbow. When my fangs broke his skin he gasped and I almost withdrew wondering what awful sounds Keel's bleeder was making right now. But then I felt Ankor's hand on the back of my head, stroking my hair, encouraging me to bite deeper and drink, and I let go of the king, if just for a few minutes. And in those moments I wondered what it would be like to be with someone else; it was an experience I'd never know, unless I wanted to condemn that person to certain death.
"Thank you," I said when I was done. Since Keel didn't approve of me spilling my blood around Ankor, I had brought down a first-aid kit, which I kept tucked under his bed. I used it now to clean and disinfect the wound. Not that he'd get sick, Nosferatu had killer immune systems and excellent healing abilities, but it was part of the ritual for me. I liked to believe it absolved some of the hunger, even if that wasn't true.
"Do you want to talk some more?" Ankor said as I was finishing up.
"No." I tucked the kit back under the bed and moved towards the door.
"Probably best. You already spend too much time down here. His Majesty may grow jealous too, and that would be problematic for me."
"It's always about him, isn't it?"
"He is the king."
"Yes, he is." I wondered if it was safe to go back upstairs yet. "Before I go, is there anything else you need?"
Ankor tilted his head. He was one of those guys that bald suited. "You've been far too generous already."
"This sin is not yours, Ankor, so if you want something, just ask, okay?"
"My relatives' belongings. If there are any diaries or journals among them and they are not considered evidence of a crime, may I have them? I'd like to compile some sort of family history. It seems like someone ought to and I have nothing but time."
I felt a helpless sort of sadness for him. Did Keel ever feel this way when he came to my cell?
"I'll see what I can do," I said.
After leaving Ankor, I slipped up to the surveillance room, realizing I didn't need to walk in on Keel's activities when I could just check to see if he was done or not. The storage unit was almost identical to how I remembered it, even the camera setup hadn't changed. I turned on the closest monitor and flicked the feed to the royal chambers. Keel was punching one of the vampire-weighted bags in the gym. I flicked through the rest of the cameras - no bleeders and no bodies anywhere. I turned off the monitors, locked up the room and headed downstairs.
The thing about black and white cameras, they don't show you the blood, and there was blood everywhere. Wet, glistening, and smelling like death itself had come to visit.
"Oh my god. What did you do? Did you kill someone?" I found myself unable to take more than a single step into the room. Bile rose in the back of my throat, and I brought my palm to my nose to dampen the smell. It didn't work.
The king stared at me from the gym's entrance.
"Keel, this can't happen."
From the blackness of his eyes I knew saying his name with that tone was a grave mistake.
"Says no one but you," he growled. "This is part of what being Nosferatu is."
"This is insane."
Keel stalked across the grue to his desk, leaving a trail of bloody footsteps behind him. He dug around in the top drawer and then tossed me a set of keys. I caught them with ease. I didn't miss much anymore, not since the shooting. "Keys to your old place, sleep there today."
"Your Majesty, wait-"
"Go!" It was both a shout out loud and inside my skull and I scrambled out of there. I didn't stop to catch my breath until I reached the elevators.
Ten minutes later I was standing in an apartment I figured I'd never see again with no idea what to do. This was yet another of those moments where the Nosferatu world crossed into horrorshow, but this time Keel had sent me away. Had it been the mess or had he been about to lose control? If he lost control and I wasn't there to distract him, would another bleeder die or would he go after my father or would he...
In a panic, I turned my back on the apartment and rushed out into the hall. If anyone would know what was going on and what to do, it was Arthos, and, luckily, I knew exactly where he lived.