Hotbloods 5: Traitors

I slipped my arms around his waist and held his gaze. “We can get through anything, Navan. I promise you, as soon as this is over, we’re going to be absolutely fine.”

He turned his back to the waiting ship, blocking the chauffeur’s view of me as he dipped his head to steal a kiss from my lips, before moving toward the vessel, his hand gripping mine until the very last moment. The rest of us were following in Kaido’s vessel, while the groom traveled alone. I watched him as he walked up the gangway. The hatch of the wedding ship closed behind him. Even then, I stayed where I was and waved up at the ship as it took off, taking Navan toward his waiting bride.

Soon enough, he’d be back in my arms, and we could get on with our life together.



Kaido set the ship down beside a patch of woodland, in a designated parking spot, alongside a number of other vessels. I hadn’t expected there to be so many, but it seemed Seraphina and Navan were popular among the coldblood community.

It was a place I recognized as soon as I stepped out of the hatch and down the gangway, the hem of my dress whispering across the grass. Seraphina had lent me a beautiful, gauzy gown of sunset copper for the occasion, with a flowing skirt and a fitted bust. It had draped off-the-shoulder sleeves that billowed out, making me feel like royalty. A heavy, dusky red cloak completed the look, to keep out the bitter cold. I knew I would still look like a potato next to the bride, but I felt like a million bucks.

Since Ronad and I had a job to do later, I couldn’t walk quite as elegantly as I wanted to, with a gun holster strapped to one leg and a mini-bandolier of knives strapped to the other. It turned out that, while Sarrask’s weapons store wasn’t particularly extensive, he did have some useful things, although he still didn’t know we’d taken them. Glancing at Ronad, who was walking ahead, I had no idea where he’d put his gun, and frankly, I didn’t want to.

There was a chapel in the near distance, small, but perfectly formed, with a high steeple carved from a gleaming gray stone. It was a chapel I’d seen before, though it had been daylight then. I remembered Navan bringing me here to visit Naya’s grave, when I first came to Vysanthe, and though I’d promised myself I wouldn’t get jealous, I felt the unbidden sting of it in my chest.

In the burnished glow of the setting sun, the whole place looked surreal. Bronzed light glanced off the gray stone, turning it a rusty shade of red, while the approaching darkness brought the colorful orbs of the graveyard to life. Holographic images of the dead burst upward as well-wishers passed on their way to the chapel itself. They almost blended in with the congregation, who were smiling and laughing. It was a weird juxtaposition, but then, I’d always found church weddings strange, where the vitality of a new life together ran alongside the finality of death. Perhaps it was a reminder: ‘til death do us part.

As we walked up to the chapel, I noticed the willow-like tree with the blood-red fronds that Navan had taken me to that first time. There, still hovering in the shadow of the weeping branches, was a single purple orb.

Ronad had frozen on the path up to the chapel, his eyes fixed on the glowing purple light. Naya was watching us from her shaded glade. I wondered what she’d make of all this.

“Did you want to visit?” I asked, taking him by the arm.

He shook his head. “Later, when there aren’t so many people around.”

With that, we passed through the silver double doors of the chapel and entered the space beyond. My human mind had been expecting church pews and a stuffy interior, so I couldn’t have been more surprised by what I saw. There, in haphazard clusters on the ground, were silken cushions of every rainbow shade, a small paper cup in front of every single one. Most of the congregation was already seated, their bodies turned in toward the center aisle, rather than forward.

Instead of an altar, there was a font hewn from opaleine in the middle of the room, a dark substance gleaming within. It was presumably the Binding Font I’d heard everyone going on about, though I’d never seen it in action. I could only guess what it was going to be used for.

Grouped in a circle, around the Binding Font, were the rest of Navan’s brothers. I recognized some of them from the celebrations thrown for Navan’s return, all those months ago, but they didn’t pay me any attention as I approached. In fact, they glanced straight over me, Ronad, and Kaido, as if we weren’t even there, before greeting Sarrask with brotherly affection.

Lorela was there, too, standing next to the oldest-looking Idrax brother, who was propping her up, a burly arm tucked beneath her shoulders. She looked delighted, dressed in an ivory gown that might once have fitted her, but now hung loosely from her emaciated frame.

Jareth, however, was notably absent. I presumed Gianne had forbidden him from attending, refusing to give him any leeway in the matter, despite it being his son’s wedding. Gossip would spread, undoubtedly, but Gianne and her spin doctors would come up with something believable, like a lab accident that had detained him.

“How are you holding up?” Ronad asked, leading me toward the back of the chapel, next to a side exit, where we could slip out easily when the time came.

I nodded. “I’m fine. I just want this to be over with.” A group of coldbloods in front shot me a sour look, making me realize the acoustics were better than expected. Lifting my hands in an apology, I turned back to Ronad, who seemed to have drifted off into a wistful daydream.

“I wish I could’ve had something like this with Naya,” he murmured. “I’d always pictured myself standing at the Binding Font, with her standing opposite, holding hands across the basin and saying our vows. She would have taken everyone’s breath away. I just know she would’ve.” A moment later, he looked abashed. “Sorry, Riley. I shouldn’t be saying this in front of you, with everything that’s going on. It’s just, with her nearby, I got carried away… Rask, I’m an idiot sometimes.”

I smiled at him. “It’s all right. You can talk about it. I don’t mind.”

With a gust of icy wind, the doors at either side of the chapel opened. Seraphina entered from the far side, dressed in a bridal gown of rich scarlet, the train pooling behind her. It hugged her graceful frame, moving like liquid. Her shoulders were bare, the gown unhindered by straps, though a single ruby glinted at her throat. Black dragonflies with shimmering wings of red and silver fluttered around her, drawn to the glitter of the jewels that embellished the fine fabric of her dress, intertwining in the shape of vines. She was carrying the cup of wax and leaf, and though I couldn’t see her face through the coral veil she’d made, I knew she wouldn’t disappoint. There was no way Seraphina would be anything less than breathtaking.

My attention turned to the opposite door, where the rest of us had entered. Navan walked through it alone, dressed in the suit and cloak. The betrothed couple moved slowly toward one another, their gazes fixed to the ground, before meeting on either side of the central font. Only then did they look up at one another, while Seraphina placed her cup to one side of the font.