House of Secrets and Vows (Crown of Deceit #1)

3. Roar of the Beast

3

ROAR OF THE BEAST

T he racing heartbeats of the tavern patrons overwhelm me, their fear palpable in the spiced air that hangs heavy around us.

Next to me, the Blood King's cold, crimson-eyed gaze fixates on a slender woman sitting alone in a booth. "You’ll do."

I stand there, paralyzed, unable to move or speak as he yanks her roughly from her seat.

Fuck . This isn’t what I want.

I only agreed to come tonight to learn how to manage my cravings, which seem to deepen with each passing day.

The bottles of blood curb the edge, but they can’t drown out the relentless pulsing of heartbeats whenever I’m in the same room with a human.

Just yesterday, while I spoke to my brother, I dreamed of ripping into his throat and tearing out his jugular before feasting on his blood until not a single drop remained. The vision was so vivid I could almost feel the warmth of his blood on my lips.

Mavet runs the back of his hand over the woman’s face, her doe-like eyes wide with dread. “So lovely."

My jaw tightens as her sweet violet scent wafts through the air, tinted with notes of copper and bone broth. The world around me seems to blur, the sounds growing hazy and distant, as my focus narrows onto the frantic rhythm of her beating heart, each thump a siren call to my dark desires.

Thump.

Thump.

Mavet leans closer to her and sniffs before pulling her to me like she’s a horse on a lead. “You smell delicious.”

Thump.

I tip my head back, close my eyes, and inhale her mouthwatering aroma, letting it saturate my senses. Saliva pools in my mouth, the primal need for blood rolling through me as my incisors lengthen, sharpening in anticipation.

The Blood King tosses the woman to me as if she’s nothing more than a loaf of bread, and I snarl—a low, guttural sound that reverberates in my chest.

I catch her, doing my best to be gentle as I hold her delicate frame close.

Thump. Thump.

The tavern blurs as I gape at the curve of her neck, her skin so smooth, so vibrant. I swallow as my normally slow heart rate speeds to match hers, an unnatural synchronization that heightens my anticipation.

My tongue glides across my now-pointed teeth, eager to indulge in the magnificent meal before me. Her pulse thrums beneath her fragile skin.

“Let the feast begin,” Mavet announces, then claps. Before lunging toward his dinner, he tilts his head toward me and commands, “Drink up, Princeling.”

I block out one final plea from my conscience to leave this place before I cross a line I can’t take back. The moral struggle within me falters, overshadowed by the insatiable hunger that surges through my veins.

The beast within me roars, clawing its way through all of my resistance.

As I sink my teeth into her vein, her warm blood floods my mouth, and I lose myself in primal ecstasy.

Aella never returns to the Temple that night.

Dread pools in my stomach, fiery and wretched, clawing me from the inside out. I fight tears as the sound of patrons screaming rings in my ears. The final glance of my friend’s face has been seared into my memory like a tattoo, and I cling to it like a cliff I’m grasping for dear life.

Everything about the world feels wrong.

By mid-morning the next day, word is abuzz that Aella hasn't arrived for her priestess duty. By lunch, Priestess Lana finds me. "Do you know where Aella might be?"

I stab my fork into an undercooked potato. "I haven’t seen her since yesterday evening."

The truth burns like poison on my tongue.

"It’s unlike her to fail at her duties." The priestess eyes my barely touched plate of food.

"She mentioned a man." The lie stings my lips, but the last thing Aella would want is her secret life with the resistance exposed.

"A man?" The priestess rests a hand on her hip, her stare curious. "As in, she was seeing someone?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that," I reply too quickly. If, by some miracle, Aella returns, I don’t want her in any trouble. "It was someone she thought needed food."

Gods, I am a horrible liar today. But the priestess nods. "I pray to the Goddess for her safe return."

I shove the potato in my mouth and chew the half-raw tuber as the priestess leaves the room, not caring as the steam scorches me.

For the rest of my shift, I am as useful as a ghost as I listen to confessions, my responses nothing more than rehearsed phrases. As soon as my shift is over, I hurry out of the Temple and head straight to the Silver Lady.

As I walk, I think of Aella.

I remember the day we met on the streets. Aella had handed me a fresh loaf of bread and asked me if I had any family. When I told her no, she insisted I return with her to the Temple of Secrets to become one of the esteemed priestesses.

It had felt like such an honor to be wanted for something so important. Looking back, it was probably just an excuse to get me somewhere safe with access to regular food. I’d been so thin. I’d survived three years, but as my body began its change from child to woman, the dangers of life on the streets grew.

So few of those who promised themselves to Mina were selected. Looking back, it was more likely I’d be turned away from the Priestess Vow than chosen, but by some miracle—or sheer luck—I’d passed the test.

For my first eleven months as a priestess, I didn’t know of Aella’s double life. But when I caught her sneaking out, after a brief hesitation, my friend told me to come along. Aella took me to the resistance base and confessed she worked for a group that tried to do good in the kingdom.

I had promised to keep my friend’s secret, and then I made her take me until I’d become just as entwined in a double life as she had. Perhaps even more so. As wonderful as the Temple had been, I wanted something more. I never believed the gods protected us. But life as a priestess provided safety, shelter, and food, all things that were scarce as a child on the streets.

Once I joined the resistance, I had a real purpose. There was more to my life than the hours spent listening to petty confessions of people with such insignificant problems. But my position as a priestess had power, and I used that power to work my way into better assignments.

I've always craved the dangerous missions, ones that send a thrill through my veins, while Aella preferred the ones that allowed her to connect with the people.

After Aella returned from her fortnight as a Solstice Priestess, she was different. She was tired and melancholy, neither of which were usual traits of hers. I should have asked her if she needed a break from the resistance. Then, maybe, we wouldn’t have been at the Silver Lady last night.

As I approach the tavern now, two guards hover outside the door. I slow and continue walking by the building, pretending to admire the cloudless sky above.

"When will they have the place cleaned up?" one guard asks as he rubs his rounded belly. "I’m starving."

"It was a bloody mess in there," the other, clearly the younger of the two, says. "How can you want food after seeing that?"

"I’ve seen worse." The older guard shrugs. "I spent three years stationed at the border wall."

The younger guard only shakes his head. "There wasn’t a single survivor here."

"Sometimes death is a gift, kid."

Not a single survivor . I've known the House of Blood was brutal, that there was no reason to hope for a miracle. But hearing the truth given as bluntly as a dulled knife is a blow I am not ready for.

Aella is dead.

Is her body in there now, slumped on the floor with blank eyes?

I’ve seen death, how a corpse occupies the same space as before but without the spark of life. How empty a body becomes when the person inside is gone.

How it breaks those left in its wake.

The urge to push past the guards and find Aella strikes me just as hard as the urge to get as far away from that place as I can.

I hate everything about death, but more than anything, I hate its finality.

Even if the guards let me inside, I’m too late. There is no purpose in seeing my friend again—if there is even anything left of her to see.

Bile rises up my throat, the pain a harsh tether to reality.

As cowardly as it might be, I can’t recover if my last image of Aella is of her lifeless body.

A new desire roots itself in me. There is no undoing my friend’s death, but I won't stand by and do nothing while these monsters roam the kingdom.

I will make them all pay.

As dusk settles into the afternoon sky, I head straight to the Valazican Library. The dusty pink sky brings out the many colors of the stained-glass windows that spread across the front of the beautiful building. The elegance of the library stands out against the surrounding buildings worn with age.

I quietly hurry past the librarian, who sits behind a desk near the front door with his head tipped back and his eyes shut.

With only a half-hour before the library closes, I sneak into the back section where the librarian shelves books about demons and magic. The aroma of old paper is strongest so far from the entrance, and normally I would stop to appreciate its thick scent.

But not today.

A couple of months ago, Felix assigned Aella and me a research assignment, and we spent three nights in a row pouring through books until we found a lineage tree of King Tavin. But unlike then, when I had coin to bribe the librarian to stay open late, tonight I will soon be kicked out.

"Where did I see it?" I ask aloud, then shake my head. I’m so drained, I’m talking to myself.

The book I’m searching for is so thick I’d made a dirty joke referencing a cock to Aella when I pulled it from the shelf, despite me being the only one of us to have seen one. Aella had pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth had quirked into a half-grin.

I run my finger along the spines, zigzagging the shelves as I work down each section until I spot the tome. I slide it from the shelf, surprised at its hefty weight, then lug it to the nearest table. Dust from the leather cover clings to my finger as I flip it open and skim through the pages until I find the chapter dedicated to the House of Blood.

I’ve never cared much about the Houses of Valazica and the power they feud over. I’m too low in the priestesshood to be involved in any of the behind-the-curtain talks of the House of Secrets. My focus has always been on improving the kingdom by helping the resistance. But with Aella gone, I need to know everything about the evil that took her life.

The first page drones on about the god Malikar and his love for all things vile. When I turn the page, eager to read more about the members of the House dedicated to him, my breath stops cold.

The rest of the chapter is gone.