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The Wedding - Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chatper 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue

 

 
Chapter 11

ALTHOUGH HE HASN’T revealed our destination, I’ve known from the start of our adventure where Lucius is taking me. Still, the utter blackness in front of me—the tall, narrow slit in the side of the mountain—makes me pull back a little.

Lucius doesn’t hesitate, though. Without a word, he steps inside first, and because our hands are linked—and because I want to follow—I let him guide me into the constricted passage, so small that Lucius has to walk ahead, slightly bent, his arm stretched behind himself to reach me. We move at a snail’s pace, feeling our way along, because there’s no hope of our eyes adjusting in such a complete subterranean void.

I want to ask him why we couldn’t have brought a flashlight or at least a candle, but something tells me not to talk.

I’m scared . . . scared of being in a tight space underground, in darkness that almost certainly hides creatures that would make my skin crawl if I could see them. And I have irrational fears, too, like that the ground might drop away and our next step send us tumbling into empty space. But I’m also excited, and know that Lucius is familiar with the tunnel.

As if on cue, he turns—not easy in the cramped space—and rests his free hand gently on my head, protecting it as he guides me past a turn where stone juts down from above. “Careful here,” he whispers. “The rock is sharp.”

Yes, it’s quite obvious that Lucius has been here many times.

As I round the bend, ducking low, I see a faint glow in the distance, and my anticipation grows—along with a new confusion.

Is someone else already here? Are we meeting somebody?

If Lucius is surprised, he doesn’t voice it. He just continues to draw us down the curving corridor and toward that light, and my eyes finally begin to pick out details around us. The passageway is actually very dry and smooth, not as scary as I’d thought in the dark. The walls appear almost cared for. I glance down and see that the dirt floor seems swept clean, too. And the air, though musty, smells like spice . . . maybe some kind of incense. I take a deep breath, thinking the smell is vaguely reminiscent of the unusual cologne that I first began to associate with Lucius back in America.

I walk close on his heels, wondering if he chose that cologne because it reminded him of this spot.

The light grows stronger and my heart starts to pound. I am about to see what is probably—no, definitely—the most significant place in my life.

We take a few steps more, and the ceiling rises higher, so even Lucius can stand upright. At the last moment—just as we pass under a crude wooden support that separates the passage from the chamber that lies at the end—he draws me to his side and then steps aside, allowing me to walk through first and telling me, voice hushed with reverence, “This, Antanasia, is where our parents promised us to one another.”

As I step into that hidden cavern, lit by a row of simple candles arranged on a wooden table, like an altar . . . that honestly is the first time it really strikes me that I’ve been here before. That the infant I sometimes picture being offered up at a subterranean betrothal ceremony was actually me.

That child . . . she always seemed like a stranger. No more real than a doll.

But of course that baby was . . . me. My eyes have witnessed all of this before. Maybe I was placed on that table . . .

And Lucius . . .

I turn slowly to face him, and see that he looks both happy and suitably solemn as, clearly understanding what is running through my mind, he says, “Yes, Antanasia. This — this place — is where you and I really first met.”

He stays near the entrance, giving me time to take everything in.

The cave isn’t large, but like the tunnel, it’s clean and obviously maintained. Along with the table, wooden benches are arranged in rows, almost like a classroom or a church.

“This is where our ancestors made all of their most important decisions,” Lucius explains. “The Elders and senior vampires would gather here to debate. Still do gather, for the most crucial, clandestine meetings.”

I look at him and see that his gaze is traveling around the space, as if he’s seeing it anew as well.

“And they sought refuge here, too, right?” I ask. “When vampires were being purged?” A chill runs through me—and not because the cave is cool. Our parents were destroyed in the last purge. Will there be others...?

“Yes,” Lucius answers my spoken questions. “This has always been a safe haven. Its location is highly guarded.” He meets my eyes, adding, “Destruction awaits the vampire who reveals this spot to a human. That is the penalty, with no hope of clemency. No mercy.”

I watch Lucius coolly stating this fact, and although I know that he’s prepared to rule, I’m a little bit in awe—and slightly unnerved—to think that the vampire who just protected my head with a gentle hand wouldn’t hesitate to carry out that kind of justice.

Uncertainty grips me. Will I, as a princess, actually be responsible for handing down such a sentence? Am I responsible for doing it now, if a Dragomir breaks the code of secrecy? I stare hard into Lucius’s eyes. Has he already served as judge and issued a decree like that?

I start to ask him—but change my mind. Maybe I don’t want to know . . . not right now. So I ask another question that’s bothering me. “If this is a safe haven, why didn’t our parents... ?”

But Lucius is already shaking his head. “Rulers do not ‘hide,’ Antanasia,” he reminds me. “Especially not leaders such as our parents were. Such as we will be. Kings and queens do not cower in caves, even to save their lives.”

I swallow thickly, a queer feeling in the pit of my stomach, and not only because I doubt my courage in the face of destruction. Lucius has also just elevated us to “king and queen.” But he and I are barely a prince and princess. At least, I’m barely a princess. And to rise up to be queen requires a vote of confidence by all the clan members...

My concerns must be plain on my face, because Lucius steps closer to me, smiling in a reassuring way. “Don’t look so alarmed, Antanasia.” He takes my hands in his and bends to rest his forehead against mine. “Nothing bad is happening tonight!”

As we stand together in the quiet cave, the worry that I did feel dissipates. “I’m not scared,” I promise him.

“Good.” He clasps my hands together and presses them against his chest so I can feel his heartbeat. “Because the last thing I want you to feel right now is fear.”

After a few seconds, I realize that Lucius’s heart is beating a little more quickly than usual—just slightly faster and harder than its familiar slow, almost imperceptible pace. I raise my face to his, wondering what’s causing the change.

I see then that there’s something different in his eyes, too. A flicker that tells me something is happening. Something more than just Lucius showing me the cave where generations of Romanian vampires have come to seal pacts and forge treaties and sometimes hide from persecution by humans.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of the candles flickering, too, and I have my second revelation of the evening.

Not only have I been here once before, but Lucius has prepared this spot for us this night.

The footsteps scrambling down the mountain . . . that was almost certainly one of his two guards, returning after getting the cave ready for our arrival.

And the fact that we’ve made this journey in the dark, when it would have been so much easier in daylight...

I study Lucius’s dark eyes, wishing more than ever that I could read his thoughts as well as he seems able to read mine, and asking him, “Lucius...why are we really here tonight?”

And his answer...it isn’t what I expect at all.

Continue to Chapter 12...

 
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