Hotbloods 5: Traitors

Moving methodically, Navan lifted Seraphina’s veil off her head. She was just as beautiful as I’d anticipated, her cheeks flushed, her hair flowing down her back in raven tendrils, and a small tiara glinting atop her head. With a slight nod, Navan turned and placed the veil into the smoldering bowl of fire beside the font, the thin fabric disintegrating as the flames consumed it. Clearly, he approved of his bride, and so did the rest of the chapel, who cooed in wonderment at the handsome couple.

Navan and Seraphina held their hands out across the basin of the font, facing one up and one down. They looked into one another’s eyes, prompting a jolt of envy to bristle through my veins, even though neither of them was smiling. The chapel was so silent, with everyone drawn to the sight in the center, awaiting the next phase of the ceremony. Having never seen a Vysanthean wedding before, I had no idea what to expect beyond what Seraphina had told me.

Just then, Queen Gianne emerged from the crowd, drawing a gasp from the congregation. Evidently, nobody had expected someone as important as the queen to preside over a wedding. She moved up to the font and stood beside it, waiting for silence to resume before she spoke.

“It is not every day that a war can be held back,” she began, her voice booming through the chapel. Close by, a coldblood with a camera followed her. “And yet, love will always overcome—love for your fellow Vysanthean, and love for your nation and your queen! War cannot prevent the union of these two people, and we must see this ceasefire as a means of reminding ourselves what it is we are fighting for. We are fighting for the love of our nation, which these two symbolize so profoundly! Even our greatest enemy, Queen Brisha, has paused for this moment. She bows to the will of the South, and the blood that runs in our veins! So, without further ado, bring forth the ceremonial blade!” she cried. A slender coldblood in a red robe hurried up to the font and laid a curved knife on the edge of the basin.

Slowly, Navan picked it up, his eyes never leaving Seraphina’s. Her hands shook as Navan placed the sharp point of the blade against his fiancée’s pale skin, in the very center of her wrist.

“Seraphina, do you agree to bind your blood with mine, and add it to the blood of centuries collected below—the blood of our ancestors that will, in turn, be joined by the blood of future generations?”

Seraphina nodded. “I agree to bind my blood with yours, Navan, and to share that which runs in my veins with the blood of past, present, and future.”

I felt my eyes widen in horror as Navan pressed the sharp point deeper into Seraphina’s flesh, the first drop of blood pooling up to the surface. It was blue-tinged and dark against the pale gray of Seraphina’s arm.

The rush of icy air bursting open the chapel door shattered the silence, drawing everyone’s attention away from the ceremony. A coldblood swept through the arch, flying into the room, lifting his voice to the heavens as he landed on the basin with a hefty thud.

“Stop the wedding!” Aurelius cried. “I demand you stop the wedding!”





Chapter Thirty-Two





“Really, Aurelius, was there any need for such a dramatic entrance?” Queen Gianne asked mockingly, chuckling to herself as she sat down in a nearby chair—the only one among the scattered cushions. “You could have walked through the door, instead of making a show of yourself.”

“You have to put a stop to this wedding, Your Majesty,” Aurelius insisted, rocking unsteadily on the font’s edge. One false move, and he’d end up falling into it.

“I don’t have to do anything, Aurelius,” she retorted, amused by his obvious frustration. “What appears to be the problem? Can’t you see you are disturbing a very poignant moment between two sweethearts—a wedding that the nation has put a war on hold for?”

Aurelius jumped down from the font and stormed toward his queen. “You promised her to me, Your Majesty. I have the right to marry Seraphina. This imposter does not!”

Gianne rolled her eyes. “With everything plaguing our nation, do you really think I care about such trivial matters—that I have time to waste on worrying about who marries whom? These two are from respectable Vysanthean families. Why shouldn’t they marry? You are jealous, Aurelius, that is all. You will get over it in due course, I am sure. Now leave here before—”

“I gave you every opportunity, Your Majesty,” he said quietly, though the chapel acoustics still carried every word across the congregation. “I asked you not to do this, and you ignored me. I pleaded for you to change your mind, but you would not. Now, you leave me with no other choice.”

Gianne frowned. “Whatever are you yapping on about, Aurelius? These people want a wedding, and you are holding everything up. I thought you were amusing, swooping in like that, but you are becoming increasingly annoying.”

Ignoring her, Aurelius clambered back up onto the basin of the font, addressing the congregation and the cameraman, who had the lens pointed in his direction. I didn’t know if the footage was going out live, or if it was being pre-recorded for later, and it seemed Aurelius wasn’t sure either. Regardless, he began to speak.

“The queen’s most trusted advisor, Jareth Idrax—the father of Navan Idrax, the man you see here—has been jailed for treason!” he cried, inciting shocked murmurs from the gathered crowd. “He has been keeping secrets from the queen and working against her!”

I turned my gaze toward Queen Gianne, watching the anger rise through her as her eyes narrowed with fury. He’d just spilled a secret she didn’t want anyone finding out about. I glanced from her to the cameraman, wondering if that little speech had just gone out live.

She had covered up the reason Jareth wasn’t at his son’s wedding, but she couldn’t easily explain this revelation. Everyone knew Jareth was her greatest advisor. If he could betray her, at such a time, then what did that say about her? It made her look bad, and if people began to doubt her leadership, that could only end in disaster for her, inspiring further betrayals, or even an uprising.

“Aurelius, what is the meaning of this?” she spat. “Why must you spin these lies?”

Aurelius turned to look at her. “They are not lies, Your Majesty! A quick trip to the Regium dungeons will prove me right!”

I could sense the tension bristling between Gianne and Aurelius. Her temper was ready to spike. He had made her look like a fool in front of all these people.

To my surprise, it was Navan who stepped forward, putting himself between Aurelius and the queen. “Even if my father is in jail, Aurelius, that doesn’t annul the betrothal between me and Seraphina. We have been promised to one another for years. My father’s arrest has no bearing on that,” he said solemnly. “You know the rules of our nation. An annulment must be petitioned in front of the queen, or her appointed jury. You have no power here, Aurelius, so why don’t you just leave us in peace, and lick your wounds elsewhere.”

Aurelius smiled smugly. “Oh, it is you who will be licking your wounds,” he hissed, pulling out a thin, flat device. He pressed a button at the top, and a shimmering screen rushed downward, revealing a document of some kind. “Your betrothal contract is null and void!”

Navan peered closer in disbelief. “How can that be?”

“Your father is one of the appointed jury. He has annulled the betrothal contract. As you can see here, it bears his biometric signature,” Aurelius purred triumphantly, pointing to what looked like a fingerprint in the bottom right-hand corner of the shimmering screen. “So, why don’t you back away from my fiancée, before I am forced to remove you!”

Navan lunged for Aurelius, morphing into beast mode. His wings tore through the fabric of his suit, his damaged one breaking free of the bindings that had kept it flush to his back. The artificial upper section remained in place, the leathery construct fastened to the broken section, matching Aurelius’s disability. Navan’s eyes darkened, his veins pulsing as he unsheathed his claws and fangs, tearing away at his enemy. At the sound of ripping flesh and the roar of Navan’s anger, the chapel descended into chaos, with people running for the exits and diving into doorways, desperate to escape the mêlée.