Bonds of the Vampire King (Blood Fire Saga Book 7) by Bella Klaus (romantic books to read TXT) 📗

the thickest of ropes will snap under pressure if you attack their individual fibers.”

I gave her a sharp nod. “Let’s do this.”

Sybil raised my top, exposing my heart chakra, and burned a flame beneath a glass jar, turning its insides black. Istabelle had shown me this technique before. It was called cupping and was used to draw out impurities from the body.

“Brace yourself for the heat.” She placed the warm jar over my chakra, forming a vacuum that sucked hard on my skin.

“What’s that for?” I asked through panting breaths.

“To weaken the bond,” she replied.

“Alright, but please make sure the other one—”

“Relax.” She squeezed my shoulder. “The bond with your true mate is resting on the other side of the chakra. No harm will come to it during the severing.”

I stared at the ceiling, breathing hard through my nostrils and trying not to think about a thick rope protruding from my heart chakra and being pulled apart fiber by fiber, but it was impossible. Each separation felt like the ghost of a plucked hair, and after the first four, I stopped flinching and closed my eyes.

“Won’t he notice?” I asked.

“Probably, but he’ll still be able to feed you his power and draw on yours.” Sybil’s voice slid through my ears. “He’ll be too worried about securing his access to your phoenix to think that you’re trying to weaken the bond.”

Sybil had probably eavesdropped on the entire conversation between the healer and me. I forced my muscles to relax and used the meditation techniques Istabelle taught me to send my mind to an altered state. One where Kresnik had never risen from Hell, and Prince Draconius was countries away from Logris.

Hours later, Sybil placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’ve finished, but you’ll need at least an hour to let your magic settle.”

“Where’s the nearest place I can take a mirror?” I blinked my eyes open to find the room even dimmer than before, as the candles on the chandelier had burned out.

Sybil helped me to stand. “I would advise against upsetting your magic for at least an hour.”

I placed a hand on my pocket, tracing the outline of Valentine’s card. “I’ll call an Überwald.”

By the time I returned to the palace, the sun hung low in the pale blue sky, with the trees casting long shadows across the manicured gardens. I stumbled out of the cab and placed a hand over my mouth to conceal a yawn. With the bond between Kresnik and me weakened, it meant we could attack sooner.

Yellow light bathed the palace’s pale exterior, making the majestic building look like it was reflecting gold. As I trudged up the steps toward the guards standing by the doors, I heard the thrum of a motorcycle and glanced down the driveway.

Beowulf stopped his bike in the courtyard and bounded up the steps, his amber eyes stricken. He stopped at my side. “Have you heard the news?”

Dread rolled through my belly, and I placed a hand over my middle, bracing myself for the worst. “What’s happened?”

“King Valentine.” He swallowed.

My knees went weak, and I shot out a hand to grab his bicep. “Is he alright?”

He grabbed my elbow, holding me steady. “There was an attack in the prison,” he said with a snarl. “It took place moments after you left his cell. Both King Valentine and the assassin are believed to have perished in a fire.”

A nervous laugh bubbled up from my stomach, and I lurched forward, clapping a hand over my mouth.

“Have you gone mental, woman?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Just a little lightheaded from the news. Could you help me inside and tell me what happened?”

The Shifter King stared down at me with furrowed brows, but he nodded and helped me the rest of the way up the stairs.

My limbs wouldn’t stop trembling, both out of relief and the lingering shock of thinking something terrible really had happened to Valentine. I supposed I hadn’t fully considered how the Council might interpret the burned prison.

One of the footmen led us to the same parlor room from before, and another served the most elaborate ploughman’s lunch. It usually came with just bread, cheese, pickles, boiled eggs, and a few slices of cooked meat, but the palace’s version added whole tomatoes, sausage rolls, Cornish pasties, and a pork pie the size of a birthday cake.

This had to be the kind of food Beowulf enjoyed, because it was similar to the fare I’d gotten at his hideout.

The Shifter King ate a large slice of pork pie in silence, his gaze sliding over to me fumbling with a pickle and a slice of cheddar. He probably thought I was still in shock, but I didn’t know what to say in case Valentine wanted to take advantage of being ‘dead’ until we got rid of Kresnik.

“Can you tell me what happened?” I asked, loud enough to be heard by anyone eavesdropping in the hallway.

“One of the guards had tampered with the alarms.” He took a huge bite of pie and chewed. “It wasn’t until smoke filled the hallways that someone finally reported a fire.”

I nodded, urging him to continue.

“Emergency enforcers found one of the lieutenants murdered in the corridor leading to King Valentine’s cell. Its interior was reduced to ash. Forensics say there are traces of burned flesh, but the remains are too degraded for magical analysis.”

I pried open a bun with my hands and slathered its interior with piccalilli, a mustardy relish of pickled vegetables. That wasn’t surprising, since phoenix flames burned hotter than any other. “Who was the assassin?”

“Lieutenant Herbert Cien,” he snarled. “A shadow mage who served fifty years as a sergeant before getting promoted, and another sixty years before that. His performance was unremarkable and showed no discipline issues or subversive behavior.”

“What about the other man who escorted me to the cell?” I popped a slice of cheddar into the roll and compressed the bread with my fingers.

“Thierry Hessonite,” he replied. “An up-and-coming lieutenant who was also