Vampire Court: White Bishop by Ingrid Seymour

Author:Ingrid Seymour [Seymour, Ingrid]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: PenDreams
Published: 2019-12-16T16:00:00+00:00

I WOKE UP TO THE SCENT of something sweet. I struggled to open my eyes. They were stuck together, so was my mouth. They peeled open with an audible dry sound. I swallowed with effort, the sweet scent permeating into my senses, waking me.

One second I was lying flat on the dirt, struggling to regain my consciousness, the next I was on all four, lapping at a bowl full of blood, then picking it up and drinking it greedily, its contents spilling over my face as I swallowed deeply. The dense liquid traveled down my chin and along my neck. When I finished the bowl was empty, I ran my fingers over the spilled blood and licked them one by one.

It wasn’t enough. Not nearly. I wanted more, more. My hand searched the confined place desperately, trying to find another bowl. There was none.

I screamed in frustration, kneeling with my fists pressed against my thighs, the column of my throat aching with need.

“The Queen is merciful,” a deep voice echoed from above. “She says you can come out now.”

It was Bishop Rasvan. He was here for me, finally. I almost wept. There would be more blood. Soon. I could make it. I could wait a little longer.

There was a flutter, fabric flapping, then a small thud in front of me. He was here. Blindly, I put my arms out, desperately trying to touch him. I found nothing but air.

An arm wrapped around my waist from behind, and a moment later, I was flying upward, wind buffeting my face, drying the spilled blood on my chin and neck. I watched as a small circle of light above me grew bigger and bigger. After a moment, the torchlight grew so bright it hurt my eyes. I squeezed them shut.

We slowed down, reaching the apex of our ascent, then we alighted gently on the stone floor.

Bishop Rasvan let me go. I teetered on my feet then fell to my knees. I was panting, my head throbbing like a second heart, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth despite the blood I’d drunk.

The strength that had inhabited my muscles was completely gone. I was as weak as a starved child, a helpless thing that anyone could destroy with a single blow.

“Answer with the truth,” Bishop Rasvan said in a tender voice similar to the one the Queen had used to interrogate me before. “Did you teach the Rooks everything you know about finding new Troves.”

I tensed, expecting that strange pull on my blood, that subservient feeling. It didn’t come, and I found that I could easily answer with a lie.

“I did.” Despite its hoarseness, my voice betrayed no hesitation.

Rasvan huffed, displeased with the answer. “Pathetic creature. Let this be a lesson. You will try harder. You will find the Queen another Trove. And you will not ever, ever, dream of moving higher up the ranks. This is as far as you go. Make any attempts and you will starve in that pit until you become nothing but a husk mewling for salvation.

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