Coldbloods (Hotbloods #2)

A broad smile stretched across Queen Brisha’s face, her eyes positively glittering with excitement. “An excellent alternative, Riley,” she said softly. “As I suspected, you’re far cleverer than you look. Stay here while I get one of my guards to fetch a medic—there’s no time like the present for an extraction!”

As Queen Brisha headed for the door, I felt my heart shrink to the size of a pea. I’d had to offer her something valuable to divert her attention from Earth’s location, and giving her a small sample of my blood was a million times better than telling her where to find my planet, but I was terrified where this would lead. For all I knew, that small sample could release a horde of immortal coldbloods on the universe. Regular coldbloods already caused so much damage; it didn’t bear thinking about how much harm immortal ones would bring.

The medic arrived two minutes later, accompanied by the queen. He was a short, slim coldblood with a pair of sallow wings that hung limply at his back. He carried a bag under his arm as he approached me.

“This is the subject,” Queen Brisha said, gesturing toward me. “I’d like you to take a sample of her blood.”

The medic nodded. “How much, Your Highness?”

“A vialful,” she replied.

“Very good, Your Highness,” he mumbled, before moving toward me.

As he lifted a dampened cloth that smelled intensely of chemicals to the side of my neck, I was reminded of Jethro drawing blood from me. He’d done it with his fangs—they must have been able to suck up blood like syringes—and I hoped this old guy wasn’t about to use the same method.

As he pulled out a hypodermic needle from his bag, I realized that he wasn’t.

I also realized that this was actually happening. Really, truly happening. A Vysanthean queen was finally obtaining my blood.

Even though my heart was pounding, every fiber of my being begging to pull away, I sat still, allowing the medic to cleanse the side of my neck. He lifted his needle to the fragile flesh. Without warning, he sank it into my skin, and I felt the scrape of it, though it lasted only a moment. An unpleasant pulling sensation rippled up the veins in my neck, and then, barely a minute later, it was done.

“Take that to the alchemists, will you?” Queen Brisha instructed, as the medic shoved his tools into his bag. He was careful with the vial of my blood, placing it into a secret pocket, hidden in the bag’s lining.

“I’ll do it right away, Your Highness,” he promised, giving a nervous little bow before scurrying out of the library.

Queen Brisha sank back down into the chair opposite me, a pleased look on her face. “That was a very brave thing you did, Riley,” she said softly. “And I, for one, am extremely grateful.”

“How long will it take until you can use it?” I asked, my throat raw.

She shrugged. “That depends on how long it takes my alchemists to synthesize it. Naturally, each new species is its own beast when it comes to blood and how we coldbloods absorb it. But I estimate… hm, several weeks. My alchemists’ processes are thorough.”

Several weeks? Then maybe, just maybe, that gave us a window of opportunity. I wasn’t sure where we would go from here—I needed to talk to Navan and tell him about what I’d done—but knowing we had some time, more time than I’d expected, gave me a flicker of hope. It wasn’t much, but I was grateful for it.

Because at this point, I needed all the hope I could get.





Chapter Thirty-Four





After the meeting with Queen Brisha, Pandora returned to escort me to the chambers that had been arranged for Navan and me. They were situated at the top of the third tower of the palace, overlooking the glistening city below. The room was plush and elegant, with red velvet chairs and a brocade chaise longue in front of a roaring fire. To one side, there was a four-poster with gauzy, golden fabric hanging down and shrouding the comfy-looking bed. To the other, there was a small kitchenette, which had been fully stocked with vials as well as food I could eat. There were fruits and vegetables of various forms, and hopefully none would kill me.

I supposed it was the queen’s way of welcoming us to the North. Lying down on the bed, I was glad of the soft mattress beneath me sapping away the aches and pains of the last few days.

It appeared to be the only plus side of Queen Brisha’s arrangement. At least here, Navan and I didn’t have to hide our relationship. She knew about it and didn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seemed intrigued by the forbidden nature of our love.

Navan arrived about half an hour later, just as I was drifting off to sleep, comforted by the roaring flames and the soft bedding. His entrance stirred me, and I sat up, taking in the sight of his bandaged arm. At least he wasn’t bleeding anymore, and there was a delirious, playful quality to his face—which I guessed had something to do with Vysanthean painkillers.

“Navan, how are you feeling?” I asked, getting up to go over to him.

“Fine,” he replied with a crooked smile.

“They give you something for the pain?” I teased, though my heart wasn’t in it. My mind was elsewhere, thinking about what I had done and how Navan was going to react. I could still feel the sharp sting of the needle where it had pricked my neck.

“Oh yes. They gave me soren root,” he explained, as if that was supposed to mean something to me.

“What’s that?”

“Painkiller. Think they might have given me a bit too much.” A goofy laugh bubbled up from his throat, forcing a genuine smile to my lips. Taking his hand, I led him over to the couch and sat him down, feeling regretful that I would have to burst his happy bubble with my news. Before I could speak, however, he cut in. “I’ve spoken with Bashrik,” he said, a deranged smile on his lips as his eyes struggled to focus.

I frowned in surprise. “Already?”

“Why yes.” He nodded. “I had some time in the infirmary, thought I’d put it to good use. That brawny woman gave me her comm device.” He started absently picking at the edges of his bandages, and I reached out to remove his hand, keeping it firmly in mine to prevent him from unraveling the whole thing. I presumed by “brawny woman” he meant Pandora.

“What did Bashrik say?” I asked in disbelief. Everything was happening so fast.

“Says he’s on his way.” Navan sighed, collapsing back into the comfortable cushions of the loveseat.

My eyes bugged. “He’s on his way?! How… How can he be on his way?”

“He and Ronad managed to intercept a rebel coldblood ship. Won’t be long until old Bashie gets here to build a big lab that will ruin everything.” Another stupid laugh pealed from his throat.

“What about the others?” I asked, gripping his shoulders and trying to shake some sense into him.