Shadows of Desire Ch. 06

King Desmond took the ring and slid it onto Caroline's waiting finger. She smiled down at it and for a moment Killian saw something flash across her eyes. Something dangerous and dark. The King picked up her hand in his and lightly kissed her knuckles though his eyes landed on her and a look of indifference crossed his face. He was bored. Killian could tell that at once and he nearly laughed out loud. King Desmond was bored at his own wedding.

The priest then turned to Killian and asked the same. "Lord Killian Thorn, do you take Lady Emilia to be your eternal companion, to cherish and protect her, to share the night and the darkness, and to stand by her side through all the ages to come?"

Killian a hesitated only a moment, earning him an angry glare from Emilia. Finally, he sighed. "I do." He said though his voice was raw and steeped in anger. In his mind he was screaming No no no! He imagined pulling a dagger from his belt rather than a ring and plunging the blade deep into Emilia's chest. The blood from her body laying crumpled on the stone dais would slowly ooze out of her and form a real pool of blood where the shimmering light had once been. How would his future in laws like that? To have their wedding clothes stained with the blood of the bitch who had ensnared him.

Emilia narrowed her eyes then turned back to the priest, ignoring Killian's defiance.

"Lady Emilia." The Priest continued. "Do you take Lord Killian Thorn to be your eternal companion, to love and honor him, to share the night and the darkness, and to stand by his side through all the ages to come?"

Emilia smiled, proudly. "I do." She said loudly, for all to hear.

To Killian the priest repeated, "Lord Killian, please place the ring on the lady's finger."

Killian turned to his side where his father waited, holding a simple gold band that he handed to Killian. It wasn't near as beautiful or expensive as the ring the King had placed onto Caroline's finger but it was pure gold and shimmered elegantly in the candle light. Emilia put her hand out, waiting for the ring and Killian slipped it on as quickly as he could then withdrew as though he could no longer bear to touch her.

The priest lowered the chalice of blood, and each of the couples drank from it, completing their vows.

Killian nearly gagged on the blood. Swine blood mixed with wine. It was revolting. In the old days it would have come from a human sacrifice, killed before the entire congregation but, such things were no longer permitted. It was written in the treaty that humans and other kin were no longer to be used as food. God, how Killian missed those days. There was nothing more exhilarating than hunting down prey and draining them where they stood. Feeling the heart stop as the last drop of blood passed by his lips.

That was truly what it meant to be a vampire. To hunt and kill and take what they wanted and never for a moment feel shame for being what they were or doing what they were meant to do. They were monsters, killers, and they were meant to rule the night. Not hide away in their castles and houses like frightened little rodents scurrying around in shadows taking whatever scraps they could find. King Desmond and his damn treaty had made their race weak. No one feared them as they once did. It sicked Killian to his core. Desmond wasn't a King. He was a coward. He hated him.

The priest continued speaking but Killian barely heard a word of it. The words spoken were of little importance to him. He had no intention of actually abiding by the vows he spoke. It was all a pretense. "As the blood flows through your veins, may you be forever bound by the mysteries of the night and the eternal power of Sheul. Let your love be as deep as the endless abyss and as strong as the darkness that veils the stars. Mother Night, wrap these unions in your comforting darkness, and let your wisdom guide them through the trials of life and death. Bless their journeys as they walk the path of love hand in hand, side by side, for all eternity."

The priest sat the chalice aside and once again picked the ancient book up and held it in his hands. "May your love shine through the ages, guided by the eternal wisdom of Sheul and the nurturing embrace of Mother Night. And, let it be known that on this night, under the watchful gaze of Sheul and Mother Night, King Desmond and Lady Caroline, and Lord Killian and Lady Emilia are forever bound in the embrace of darkness and blessed with the gifts of their undying love. Rise now, and greet your people as husbands and wives."

The two couples stood and turned, facing the congregation as they held hands, presenting themselves as newly wed couples. A cacophony of applause erupted from the crowd along with shouts of congratulations. Killian groaned. This was possibly the worst night of his life.

***

No words could describe the torment that attending the King's reception was for Lord Killian. The King's reception. That's what it was. Though meant for both couples it certainly wasn't that. Nobles lined the room, approaching the throne one by one to give congratulations and gifts to their King. King Desmond yawn and leaned his head on his hand while Caroline, now Queen, greeted each of their guests and thanked them for their offerings with false sincerity.

Killian sat at the long banquet table next to Emilia and glowered at anyone that came near them. He swore, the next person to congratulate him would be met with his fangs. Lady Emilia seemed at ease and quite in her element. Charming each and every person who came to speak to her. Even without the grand gifts that the King and Queen received, Emilia appeared to be enjoying the reception and the attention of her guests. Women that would have ordinarily paid her no mind were now hovering at her side. She was the daughter of the King now, her status elevated.

Not yet a princess, officially. The King himself would have to give her that title but the Queen would see to it that he did. Nevertheless, Emilia acted the part. She sat up straight, head held high, and a wide, beautiful smile played across her blood red lips. She sipped at her wine and tipped her head to those who addressed her. Killian merely slouched in his seat giving the occasional grunt when someone greeted him. He was tired of the whole affair. Tired of the fake smiles and the insincerity of the wedding guests. People who were no doubt whispering about the royal family behind their backs.

He downed his fourth goblet of wine...or was it his fifth? He didn't know. He'd lost count. He drank it down quickly then slammed the goblet on the table and stood up on wobbly legs. It took a lot to get him drunk but the wine was strong. Still, it only took him a moment to steady himself and then he stalked away from the table. Emilia looked at him, an angry snarl on her face

"I have to piss." He gruffly snapped at her. "I didn't think I needed your permission for that."

Emilia huffed then waved him off and he gave her a half-assed bow before stumbling away from the table. Killian pushed his way through a crowd of nobles who were no doubt deep in their gossip. They gasped as he rudely pushed them aside and made for the door. Once he'd made it outside of the banquette hall he leaned against the wall and sighed a breath of relief. He couldn't stand being in that place for second longer. It was as if the very air were being sucked out of the room. It was suffocating, even for a vampire.

Killian pushed off the wall and headed down the corridor. He didn't know where he was going. He just knew he needed to get away. The silence that spread out around him offered him no solace though. The clicking of his boots against the stone floor was an unnerving as the idle chatter of the banquette hall. The massive corridor seemed to grow darker the further he walked and all around him the scent of death clung to the air. The castle, this massive stone structure, was little more than a crypt he realized with alarm. Rowan was the only one who had breathed life into the palace and with him gone, it was dying and so was everything within it's festering walls.

On and on he walked, with no destination in mind. He stopped occasionally, looking around when he thought he heard voices coming from somewhere deep within the shadows. He couldn't make out words. They were only whispers and they seemed to be following him, growing louder and louder until the whispers were all he could hear as they filled his head. He put his hands to his ears and tried to block them out but it did no good and finally he stopped, unable to bear anymore, and he slammed his fist into the wall.

"Leave me be!" He screamed into the darkness. "It wasn't my fault! He took his own life. It wasn't my fault." Killian slid down the wall, holding his head in his hands as he wept. "Please." He begged. "Just leave me in peace."

The whispering voices faded away, slowly and he was met with unnatural silence once more. There was nothing, nothing but the sounds of his own sobs. No rats scurrying in the walls, and he was too deep within the castle now to hear the wind outside or the music from the banquette hall. There was nothing, only silence. He did not know how long he sat there, huddled against the wall, before a new sound invaded his mind. He shook his head and cried, willing it to go away. It was coming closer. Slowly, painfully, closer.

At first he heard the padding of bare feet against the stone floor, then the gentle rustling of fabric, soft, and light, like the gossamer fibers of a funeral shroud. Killian dared a glance up and was met with a bone-chilling sight. Out of the darkness, an eerie spectral figure emerged, shrouded in black, drifting silently along the cold, unforgiving, stone floor. Each step taken by the ghostly presence seemed to send shivers through the very foundation of the ancient castle.

The figure was tall and slender, their ghostly form partially obscured by the dark, billowing fabric of the funeral shroud that trailed behind them like a shadowy mist. The shroud seemed to have an unnatural life of its own, as if it had a will to haunt and torment those who crossed its path. The pale skin of their bare feet seemed to blend, almost seamlessly with the cold, gray, stone beneath. With each step, the sound of a faint echo resonated through the eerie silence of the castle, like a mournful whisper of a long-forgotten past and an overwhelming sense of sorrow and despair emanated from the figure, like a dark cloud surrounding it.

The chilling presence seemed to float just above the floor, defying the laws of gravity as it glided forward with a spectral grace. It was as if the weight of the world rested on its shoulders, leaving behind a palpable feeling of heaviness and dread in its wake. As the figure moved closer, the black shroud unfurled and danced like ethereal tendrils in the moonlit air. It seemed to reach out for something--or someone--with a sinister, almost malevolent intent. It advanced on Killian leaving a trail of darkness and despair in its wake.

Killian began to shiver, his head shaking as the phantom grew closer, its hand, covered in pale, shrunken flesh, reaching towards him, the tips of the fingers brushed along the side of his face and then, he screamed.

The sounds of Killian's screams echoed throughout the black corridor, crashing against the stone walls before finding their way back to Killian's ears. Even sound could not escape this fearsome ghoul and Killian suddenly began to wonder if this night would be his last.

***

It was nearly dawn when Queen Caroline leaned over and gently placed a kiss against her husband's cheek. "Come, my love. Let us retire to our chambers." She whispered.

The King looked at her with suspicion. "Are you worn out from the festivities, my dear, or does this mean that you are finally willing to share my bed?"

"I'm eager to fulfill my purpose." She told him with a coy smile. "The sooner we conceive an heir, the sooner my place at your side will be secured."

"Are you so confident in your abilities to please me?" The King raised a brow as he watched her, carefully.

"Let me prove my abilities to you, my King." Caroline took his hand in hers then stood, urging him to follow. "I promise this to be a night you will not soon forget."

Desmond stood and allowed his wife to lead him away from the table. The guests that still remained bowed as the King and Queen bid them goodnight then made their way out of the banquette hall and to their chambers.

The Lady Emilia had long since retired to her own rooms, hoping to find her own husband already there and waiting for her, eager to have a taste of her before sleep took them over.

With the royal family gone for the night, and the festivities coming to an end, the guests slowly departed, returning to their guests suits to rest before making the long journey back to their own homes. The Grand Duke would also be leaving the following night to return to Grayholm. Killian and Emilia were set to leave for Grayholm a week later.

Servants busied themselves cleaning up after the reception and restoring the banquette hall to it's former gloom and staunch decadence. Any sign of merriment now gone. That was the way the King liked it. Dark, cold, and void of emotion, like the King himself. The tyrant King, hated by all. Locked in a world of self-deprecating soberness. How the people of Basmorte longed to be released from his icy grip. Too long had they all remained cowering, shrouded in darkness, looking like mourners at their own funerals.

It was time for change. Time to claw their way back out of the shadows and end the rule of their loathsome King once and for all. An ill wind swept through the castle that night and with it brought a sense of dread. A storm was coming. A terrible, thundering tempest, that only the strongest would survive.

BLOOD AND ROSES

King Desmond sat on the bed, a long robe of crimson red covering his body. He sat back against the large bank of pillows and watched, with great interest, as Lady Caroline, his new Queen, sat at the vanity and brushed out her long, golden hair.

When they had entered their chambers, King Desmond saw the curious scene laid out before them. Blood red rose petals trailed along the floor from the double doors to the large four poster bed. Candles lit their way into the bedchamber, lining the shelves, the window sill, nightstands and even along the floor. Caroline had outdone herself he thought as he entered the room. Clearly she had arranged for the room to be staged prior to the wedding ceremony and the servants had carried out her instructions to the letter.

It was all very romantic but, sadly, wasted on the King. He wasn't interested in romance. Truth be told, he had no real interest in Caroline for anything other than her womb. Love with a distraction. It weakened the mind and dulled the senses making one vulnerable. Love was a poison from which there was no escape. He'd learned that lesson years ago and would never repeat the mistakes of his youth. He would not allow another woman to bewitch him as 'she' had done, so long ago. Women were nothing more than vipers, waiting for the moment to strike, rip your heart out and leave you wallowing in your own agony and despair.

His Queen was a handsome woman though. Even Desmond could not deny that. She had beguiling beauty and a ruthlessness that he admired above all her other more, useless, charms. She was strong, confident, and commanding in her own right. The perfect mate as she would no doubt beget strong and healthy children. She had better. The King thought to himself. Or I'll take her pretty head myself.

Caroline turned and smiled at her husband but he did not allow her charming smile to disarm him for one moment. She did not love him anymore than he loved her. The King was no fool. It was his power that she was in love with. A power she had coveted since their first meeting three summers ago when she had presented herself and her wretched daughter at court.

Caroline had been a commoner. The daughter of a miller and the youngest of five children. Her mother was blood born. The years living in the shadows had driven her mad though and one night had gone on a blood fueled killing spree. She was hunted down by the elven King and her head taken and her body burned. Caroline's father, unable to care for his children alone, quickly found mates for the oldest of his daughters but Caroline, being only a child at the time, he sold into servitude to a local widowed, Baron who governed his lands.

Caroline worked hard, cleaning, cooking, and eventually was given the task of caring for her master's three children. As she grew older, Caroline took on a more domestic role within the Baron's household, catering to his needs personally. He was quite taken with her and when it was discovered that she carried his child, he married her.

They lived happily for many years, or so it seemed, then one by one, the Baron's three children became stricken with a strange illness. At first they appeared weak, like new born kittens. They were unable to care for themselves so Caroline nursed each of them the best she could. She fed them, bathed them, and clothed them but they only grew weaker as the weeks passed by. Eventually they stopped eating as everything made them violently ill. Even blood could not be tolerated. A healer was called in to treat them but could find no cause for the illness and therefore, knew not how to treat it.

Eventually the children succumbed to the illness and passed away, much to the horror of their father. Servants whispered through the somber halls that Lady Caroline was to blame for the decline in the children's health for she and her daughter, Emilia, seemed to be immune to whatever plague had stricken the family. Many believed that the Baron would turn his wife away or have her arrested but then he too began to show signs of the sickness. As with the children, Caroline nursed her husband, aided by Emilia who was, herself, just a child at the time. And, just like the children, the Baron grew weaker and sicker, his heath in rapid decline until he too passed in the early hours one morning.

Caroline didn't seem nearly as distraught over her husbands death as one might think, nor did she mourn the deaths of the three children she'd help to raise. Instead, she took to spending the Baron's money as quickly as she could, throwing grand balls and lavishing all her attention on her daughter. She made sure that Emilia had the most expensive and beautiful gowns of all the young girls at court. Caroline adorned herself with expensive silks and jewelry. She served the finest foods at her parties and filled her home with the most extravagant furniture, paintings, and decorative rugs.

For as much as she spoiled her child, she was twice as cruel to her servants and they hated her. She barely fed them, forced them to feed from vermin, and sleep on cold, damp, floors with only rags to keep them warm. The slaves she kept, mostly Fae, were beaten and starved. Their mistress took great pleasure in their suffering, often bragging about how they cried and begged for mercy which only made her beat them harder. It was widely whispered that she also fed from her slaves and had a liking for a particular elven boy whom she kept chained in the basement and used as her personal blood slave, a thing which had been outlawed some years past.

The cruelty and the spending went on and the money soon began to deplete as Caroline had no head for business and many of her tenants choose to leave her lands rather than put up with her over taxing and cruel treatment of them. Lady Caroline soon found her financial situation in dire straights. As a solution to this, she took a new lover whom she soon married. A wealthy nobleman with lands and titles of his own. She quickly convinced him to put all of his properties and holdings into her name, much to the shock and outrage of his grown children who had expected to inherit it all.