Page 27 of Unkindness of Crimson Ravens (The Crimson Duet #1)

Royal Steel

F rancis’ eyes traveled past me, an odd smile spread across his face. “What is a cat doing in your lap?” he yelled, laughing.

“I found him in the kitchen, trying to steal our dinner. Poor thing was freezing to death.” Caleb sat atop the stairs by the front entrance of the castle. A gray hairball settled down in his lap, slowly eating a huge chunk of raw meat. A pair of gold eyes met mine.

“Silver?” I took a few careful steps forward.

The cat let out a loud mew before rushing toward me: his dinner completely forgotten.

“Silver!” I dropped to my knees, catching the creature tight in my arms. “Hello, my friend!” I pet under his chin. “How did you find me?”

“You named your cat Silver?” Francis’ brows furrowed down at me.

“You have a cat?” Caleb chimed in.

“I missed you too,” A genuine laugh escaped my lips when Silver licked my hands.

Francis' voice dropped a few octaves, “A word?” he gestured Caleb inside.

“Of course,” Caleb pursed his lips.

“Thank you,” I called after Caleb as he reached the entrance.

He nodded before disappearing into the castle.

For being an outdoor cat, Silver quickly adjusted to his new home. Just one hour later—after inspecting every corner of my room—he deemed it safe to take a nap. Laying next to me on the bed, Silver purred in his sleep, bringing a small smile to my face every time I glanced at my companion.

But even he couldn’t ease my mind tonight.

With a book borrowed from Francis’ library in my hands, my eyes could barely focus on the text. The book was not boring by any means: it was my thoughts that refused me any distraction.

My mind was occupied by Francis’ lips so close to mine, and memories of Timothy following right after. Will I ever kiss another—conscious—person in my life? Could I ever trust another soul?

Groaning, I began rereading the same page I’d read at least a dozen times when a shimmer from the corner of my room caught my gaze.

My sword laid upon a small table, its handle sparkled under the candlelight. I set the book aside as my legs carried me toward the weapon, my hands stretched out grabbing the blade.

The sun was far from making its appearance: I had hours to practice. Francis was right, I did indeed need to know how to protect myself.

A princess should not trouble herself with swords and war play. Mother’s voice screamed in my mind.

Everyone should know how to protect themselves and their loved ones. Especially in the time of war. Father’s voice countered.

Securing the scabbard onto my waist, I closed the door of my room behind me.

The wooden door of the training room creaked when I pushed it open. The unsettling darkness of the place covered my skin in ice. I rushed toward the candles, lightning them one by one.

The room overflowed with weapons, armors, and bags of hay resembling human targets.

Walking toward the nearest hay doll, I took my stance.

Shoulders down, eyes on the opponent, left leg to the side for balance. Father's words instructed me. The sword is an extension of your arm; it is now a part of you, little pearl.

I inhaled through my nose, forcing my lungs to expand.

I imagined air reaching every part of my body, healing every crack of my soul, filling my heart.

Breathe out. Every worry, every unwanted thought escaped my mind as I emptied my lungs.

My head spun with sweet satisfaction, every muscle in me relaxed.

Like an unstoppable force, my hand was as strong as steel when I extended my blade before me. I lifted my dominant leg, transferring my weight forward as I lunged. As though I weighed no more than feathers, I flew toward my target with ease and power.

The sound of pierced material brought satisfaction to my ears. Excitement overwhelmed me when I freed my blade from my pretend opponent’s heart. Blood rushed through my body, reaching every cell of my being, setting my insides aflame.

“Your position is too unsteady. You need to fix it before you get killed.”

My shoulders straightened, my hands slowly dropped to my side as I turned to face my intruder. I raised my chin high.

“Your blade is also dull,” Caleb pointed at my sword. “I can see it from here.”

He wore a white tunic, and long black trousers. His face was impossible to read as he smiled at me, although the smile did not reach his eyes.

Despite Florence’s kind words of this man, and the fact that he’d found Silver, I narrowed my eyes anticipating his next move. “I am not in the mood to be mocked or yelled at right now.” My grip tightened around the hilt of my sword as I stormed toward the exit. My teeth clenched.

“Wait,” Caleb’s hand stretched out, blocking my way.

My body was caught up in a burning flame, the fire in me grew faster than the falling star.

“I'm sorry for yelling at you that night,” he said carefully.

My eyes found his troubled features.

“I wasn’t aware of what had happened, and assumed—” Caleb trailed off, shaking his head. “It does not matter. I apologize for my behavior.”

My eyebrows flew up at his confession.

“As for the time we first met,” he continued, “I am sorry for acting that way.” Caleb closed his eyes. “I can be rather protective of my found family, although that is not an excuse.”

There were only a few feet in between us, yet I still questioned my vision’s sanity.

My head moved in a slow silent nod. Am I asleep?

“Thank you for saving my brother,” Caleb said softly. “I am in your debt.”

“I didn't do it for you.” The bitter words left my mouth before I could catch them.

Caleb’s lips turned into a thin line when he nodded. “Would you like me to teach you some sword wielding? As a payment for your troubles.”

My mouth opened and closed a few times, as I vacantly stared at the man before me. He must be jesting .

“I am all right,” my voice finally found its way out. “I appreciate the offer...” I mumbled, staggering to the side in an attempt to walk away once again.

His hand gently caught my shoulder. “Your stance is great, but you lose it the moment the actual fighting starts.” His eyes bored into mine. “Let me show you the proper way.”

“I do not plan on fighting anyone.” I freed my shoulder from his grip.

“No one plans such things,” the man continued, ignoring my harsh tone. “The skill can come in handy with what we are dealing with,” he persisted. “I heard you are to attend the next meeting. Anything can happen on human grounds.”

My eyebrows furrowed together: no one had told me I was to attend the meeting. Sweat broke through my skin at the idea of seeing Timothy’s parents again. What if he will be there? My muscles tensed, my heart skipped a beat.

“I will play nice, I swear.” Caleb forced a kind smile. “You must know how to protect yourself. Humans can be dangerous for our kind. What they lack in strength they compensate with their expansive numbers and weaponry.”

He was right, yet I could not find it in me to accept the offer no matter how childish my reasoning was. Pride was not a trait I would like to possess, however it was all that consumed me when facing this man.

Perhaps he was trying to make things right between us. Though, I was not to trust easily, not after how miserable he’d made me feel in my time here.

“Is that,” Caleb interrupted my inner battle. “Royal steel?” His eyes froze on my blade.

“Yes.” My grip tightened around the hilt.

“They do not make these anymore,” Caleb declared.

“They do not,” my voice was as cold as the winter lake. “This sword is quite old.”

My father and brother had been the last people to make this kind of steel. The skill had died with them on the battlefield.

I was to learn when I turned twenty years of age, but my mother had refused to share the sacred papers with me.

A woman should not trouble herself with such things. I will pass the knowledge to my grandson and your future husband, she’d told me.

I’d cried a lot that night.

“May I take a look?” Caleb’s eyes shone with curiosity.

I hesitated for a moment. I was not nearly naive enough to give away my only weapon when facing a person who’d forced me to duel just weeks ago. Roxanne was not here tonight to stop his nonsense.

Seeing my inner conflict, Caleb offered me his own weapons. “I was always fascinated by the only blade that can kill us at a mere touch with our blood.”

Something in his eyes made me believe the sincerity of his words. My mind screamed at me for my foolishness as my hand stretched out to exchange weapons.

He studied the sword carefully as if it was made of fragile glass. “Exquisite,” he whispered.

“What do you mean it can kill us by touching our blood?” I asked, glancing at my perfectly healed wrist.

Caleb followed my gaze as I quickly pulled down my sleeve. “I assume Francis sucked the poison out of your blood before it reached your heart, though I suggest making yourself bleed elsehow next time.” He returned his gaze back to the sword.

My cheeks burned aflame. Does everyone at the Castle know about the bite now?

“Where silver only slows our healing,” the man continued, “Royal steel will kill you the moment it reaches your heart: no herb will reverse the process.” Caleb spun the sword once, making the blade shimmer under the candle light.

“My father used to be a smith for the Royal family, but could never make a weapon like this despite his best attempts.”

“Your father?” I crooked my head.

“Uh—” Caleb trailed off, his eyes met mine. “Yes. He was a Royal smith,” he shrugged. “Before he was turned into a vampire.”

“When was that?” I suddenly asked Caleb. “How old are you?”

“Old,” Caleb chuckled, handing me my sword back. “I was bitten by my father on my seventeenth birthday.”

“Your father bit you?” The terror in my voice rang dozens of bells.

“I wanted him to,” Caleb smiled at my reaction, retrieving his blades.

“When my father was first turned he had to leave me for my own safety.” His voice was as calm as the morning breeze no matter the tragedy of his words.

“I missed him greatly. So we made a deal: when I was to come of age, my father would bite me himself so we could spend the rest of our lives inseparable.”

“Where is he now?” Surprised by how openly he answered every question I threw at him, I was glad to use this opportunity to its fullest. “What happened to your mother?”

“My mother died when I was young,” Caleb shrugged. “As for my father, he does not enjoy crowds. He moved to Faris, and started working there as a local smith after Francis began to host the balls. He says he’s too old to partake in such nonsense.”

“How old is Francis?” The words left my mouth before I could stop myself.

A wide grin spread across Caleb’s face before his bright laugh impregnated the training room. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Caleb kept laughing.

Embarrassment washed over me, turning my lips into a thin line. My mouth was my biggest enemy.

“He is thirty-four.” Caleb did not stop smirking. “So,” his eyebrows flew up. “Would you like me to teach you sword wielding?”

Thirty-four. When was he bitten? I wondered, yet did not dare asking Caleb—who stared at me patiently—another question.

He did not seem like the Caleb I’d met. This Caleb was kind: reminded me a lot of Brian.

Perhaps Florence was right and Caleb just needed time to ensure his family was safe from me. Surely I could understand the concern. No one would want to be associated with the kidnapping of an heir, not even someone as powerful as a family of vampires.

I supposed I did not need to trust him to let him teach me some useful skills. He seemed to be a man who knew a lot about training. His broad, strong physique was proof of that.

As I was about to accept his offer, an excruciating scream flew through the walls. “Help!” A cry disturbed the peace of the castle. “Help me!” A shiver went through me when the familiarity of the voice stumbled through my mind. “Somebody help me!” Roxanne screamed.

Caleb was out of the door before I managed to force my body to obey. I charged through the room, fleeing toward the loud cries.

Everything stopped when I saw Florence’s limp body in Roxanne’s arms. Roxanne's hands were painted bright crimson, blood dripped down to the floor.

My hand covered my mouth. Florence’s olive dress was now dark brown, blood did not stop flowing down her body. The wound on the stomach revealed her insides. My stomach turned.

My eyes found Roxanne’s tearful face.

Francis rushed down the steps, pure horror written on his face.

“Help,” Roxanne cried. “They attacked—” her lips trembled. “They attacked right after you left.”

Caleb took Florence’s unconscious, bloody body, carrying her up the stairs with ease and calm. Dozens of needles prickled my throat when he passed me.

Francis’ heavy steps shortened the distance between him and Roxanne. His hands gently held Roxanne’s shoulders, preventing her from collapsing.

“What did they attack with?” Francis’ voice was as calm as the center of a hurricane.

“They—” Roxanne gasped for air. “They attacked when you left. They took the children.” Roxanne kept repeating, staring into nothingness without blinking. “I cannot go through this again. I cannot.” Her body started to shake. “Issac—”

“Rox,” Francis said softly. “Look at me.” He rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs. “What kind of blade did they use?”

“Silver,” Roxanne whispered, nodding a few times before slowly turning her attention to Francis, her eyes as red as the flames of a candle. “They used silver.”

“Then she will be all right.” He held her face. “Tell me what happened?”

“The screams started right after you left.” She glanced at me, swallowing hard. “We didn’t know what was happening.”

Francis carefully sat Roxanne on the floor, taking a seat next to her. His hands covered Roxanne in a tight embrace as though shielding her from the outside forces.

She met his eyes before continuing, “Florence insisted on checking the orphanage: ensure the children were safe.” The quiet tears fell down her face. “We were too late,” Roxanne whispered. “They took the children, Francis. Wurdulacs took the children and everyone who stood in their way.”