DARKLY WED

Chapter 1

WITH A SMALL FLICK of her wrist, Alesandra Janvier knocked the wooden practice sword out of Blake's hands again. She smiled as she advanced on him as he dove to reclaim his sword.

"If this were a real fight, I would have taken your hand off along with your blade," Alesandra said, jeeringly as she held her blunt sword to his throat.

"Then, I am thankful we have nothing to fight over," Blake said with a laugh. Although he had recently started cutting his hair close to his head, when she looked at him she could still see the toddler with gorgeous gold curls bouncing on her knee. Be careful with Blake, her father had always warned, although he might look like a normal boy, he's more fragile than other boys. Even back then, one look into his curious green eyes with that impish smile and one could forget all his physical shortcomings.

It was, therefore, hardly fair, that when Blake finally rejoined the social scene last year, that he showed up as a strapping, physically perfect, twenty-five-year-old snack who somehow had held onto his boyish charm. The high society girls would have had a feeding frenzy if he hadn't simultaneously announced that he was already married to a girl no one had ever heard of. Vivienne Thorne, she was the envy of every girl who was still holding out hope for a storybook fairy tale of their own.

Alesandra had no such delusions about love. As for Blake, after the events of last year, he probably didn't either. Vivienne Thorne turned out to be Melody Balan, the daughter of Gabriel Balan, the leader of the darkest House of the Manna City ruling class. On the night of Blake's cousin Octavia's wedding, his wife had attacked him and then ran away with his son. His wife hadn't been seen since, except to send her doppelgänger, the real Vivienne Minthe, to demand an annulment of her wedding from Blake.

"Your wedding band," Alesandra said as she watched Blake toss the sword from hand to hand. He was similarly clumsy using either. "It's an alloy of Janvier metals."

Blake nodded as he brushed his hair back. That was a nervous habit of his even though he had cropped his hair short. "It is. You have a good eye."

"Did you create it yourself?" Alesandra raised an eyebrow. Her family had supplied Pearl Tower with their chains to bind Orlins to their demonic masters for generations. The idea that they might not have a monopoly on forging the bonds between human and demon was unsettling.

"No, it was some old heirloom. It means nothing. Funny story, the only time I ever tried to exercise my ability in metal enchanting was on an old cameo necklace I found in my grandmother's attic."

"How did that go?"

"A very regrettable incident. I ended up destroying it."

Alesandra wondered if it was worth her time to press him to elaborate but then decided against it. It didn't matter. It wasn't worth the trouble. The ability to forge Janvier steel was worthless unless one could use it in battle. Judging by Blake's clumsiness with the blade, she wasn't worried that he was going to send enchanted knives flying into her chest.

"You should take it off," Alesandra said as she continued to study the wedding band. "Let the past die. I can get rid of it for you if you would like."

"No, I've grown accustomed to wearing it. But it means nothing, trust me."

Over the past year, Blake refrained from speaking about his reclaimed bachelorhood. This time as no different. He commenced with their sparring session by coming at her again, once again giving in to his tendency to strike with wide swipes of his blade. It was adorable that he had virtually no instinct for sword arts. Elaezer was similarly stunted on the battlefield, which was why he gave into whoring about and cultivating a drinking problem rather than to take on their family legacy. Alesandra supposed she was lucky, both her father and brother were too busy being hot-headed idiots to care much about what she did in her free time.

After Cressida died and Sero disappeared last year, Alesandra had been placed on the throne as a steward. After all, by then, Gabriel Balan had left Manna City with his family and there was no one to oppose the decision. With Blake, who stood for House Thorne and Octavia, who was now the last remaining able-bodied Winther at the table Alesandra met with little opposition to taking the Sarastri throne. There were simply no other options. Her father was old and sickly, her brother Elaezer could barely muster enough sobriety to remember in which of his mistresses' beds he left his pants from the night before. 

Even so, Alesandra felt like little more than a steward in her position. With a deadly quiet having set over Aemon and an impenetrable fog cloaking its depths, there was no need for a strong figurehead on the throne.

"How's Alaric doing?" Alesandra asked when they finally paused for a breath. During the attack last year, Tristan had been killed and Alaric had been injured, gravely. The rest of the guests were lucky - despite Sero's apparent hatred of the family he was marrying into — most of the bullets that rained down on the wedding guests were merely blunt impact projectiles. Ives Winther had caught the worst of it, due to his position closest to the shooters. He had been killed, leaving the throne wide open for a successor. Cressida had been found dead as well, with the murder weapon found in Sero's hands, it was hard to argue that he hadn't been the one to execute the attack.

"He'll eventually recover," Blake said. "He might be wheelchair-bound. Octavia has been dutifully caring for him."

Alesandra had to chuckle at that. She knew very well how much Octavia despised her brothers. If Octavia were at Alaric's bedside, it would probably be to actively keep him incapacitated. Alesandra paused to take a break. One of her servants brought her a glass of water. She offered one to Blake but he refused it. As Alesandra glanced at the doorway to the sparring hall, she noticed a handsome man with dark hair lingering nearby. He smiled at her and then disappeared into the hall. Alesandra helplessly smiled back even though he was already gone. That was Jerrik, her dirty little secret, he was waiting for her. One of the benefits of being the steward of the throne was that she was free to engage in her trysts without Elaezer or her father's interference.

"Laughing at my two left hands again?" Blake asked, jokingly. Alesandra immediately coughed into her fist to suppress the smile that was meant for Jerrik. The last thing she wanted was for Blake to catch on that she was sleeping with one of her underlings, and a former street urchin no less. Blake might not be as blood-thirsty as the other boys of the Great Families, but she knew better than to trust anyone with that knowledge. Jerrik was gifted with the power of Dragon Fire, and having that gift made him a target to everyone, especially from the Balans who would want a monopoly on that gift. As Alesandra chewed on her bottom lip in thought, she wondered if Blake knew that the Balans had returned to Manna City.

"Have you seen Melody recently?" Alesandra asked, point-blank. "What have you decided to do about Melody?"

"No," Blake said, emotionlessly. "I haven't had the pleasure of her company. Have you?"

"Melody Balan and I have never been friends," Alesandra said, tersely. "I don't imagine I will get along with her now. She didn't just betray you, Blake. She betrayed us all."

Alesandra handed her practice sword to her manservant and removed her gloves. She flexed her hands and stared at the many rings of different precious Janvier metals that graced her fingers. It was her curse that she had only been born with a weak ability for metalwork. She could barely even forge the chains of Janvier metals that the Pearl Tower witches gave their Orlins. She wondered what would become of her house after her father died.

Her true gift was in the art of healing. With her touch, she could heal almost all flesh wounds but the price was that she would slowly weaken her own body with every use of that power. Sebastian Thorne had that power too. As far as she knew, Blake did not.

Because of her gift, Alexandra had been recruited by the Levanti, an organization of healers, located in the mountains of Montenegro. There were rumors that Gabriel Balan had his fingers in the spoils from the pirate fortress to the north of the Levanti's lands. For years, Alesandra suspected that the Balans were gaining wealth off of theft from the Levanti but there must have been some corruption inside the Levanti itself that was allowing that to occur.

 Alesandra always found it very unsettling how the old Melody used to gloat about her secret Italian lover — the one who used to heal her hymen after each of their trysts so that she could become a reborn virgin for all of her boys in different cities. Alesandra spent years wondering if Melody really was enough of a seductress to bed a Levanti elder or if she was simply full of hum-bragging. She was always such a slut.

As it turns out, the old Melody Balan was simply a decoy but Alesandra had a feeling the new one was far worse.

"You must know she feels nothing for you," Alesandra said, wishing she could tell the younger man exactly how dangerous his dalliances with the Balans truly were. Gabriel Balan had only one motive in mind, control. He wanted the Sarastri throne under his thumb - that had been the prize he had been seeking for years.

"You don't need to involve yourself about my personal affairs," Blake said with a sudden iciness in his normally cordial voice. "Trust me when I tell you this - I will kill Melody Balan."

"Very good," Alesandra muttered as she removed her leather gloves to reveal the dull, steel-colored, Gryphon ring of the Sarastri. The last time it had worn it had been on the hand of King Wynn, now she wore it even though it was too big. It was rumored that the late King always wore it under his gloves because since the power of the House of Sarastri faded, the old relics stopped behaving as they used to. Legend has it that when the chosen king returned, the relics would turn gold again and Aemon would kneel under his command. 

Recently, Aemon had gone quiet. For months now, a dense fog had settled over Aemon and the demons there had become silent and docile, remaining in their watery holes as though caught in a trance.

It made Alesandra wonder what had changed. A disturbing thought appeared in Alesandra's mind as she watched Blake retrieve his jacket from where he had hung it. She approached him and playfully smoothed the wrinkles in his sleeve out. He nodded at her sisterly gesture but she was actually doing it to absently brush the metal of the ring against the skin of the back of his hand. She noticed with relief, the metal didn't turn gold as it touched him.

"Don't worry," Blake assured her, mistaking her suspicion for concern. "I won't fall prey to Gabriel Balan. If he tries to control me with his daughter, he's going to discover he has much more to lose than the throne. "

"Maglania always warned me that Gabriel would one day bring a foreign threat to our shores. He is a man of ruthless ambition, Blake. Don't forget that."

"I'm going to reclaim my son from him," Blake responded. "I have no interest in his or his daughter's affairs beyond that."