The Mad Raven's Tale (The Accarian Chronicles Book 1) by Andrew Walbrown (the lemonade war series txt) 📗

to try to separate them, but he had been held in place by Morganna. Her strength had surprised him, because he could not imagine her lithe frame concealing such power. He attributed her sudden brawn to fear since Count Aldamar lingered nearby with blood-stained weapons, knowing firsthand the kind of superhuman power that fortifies the muscles when someone is in danger. A loud crunch had stolen Amantius’ focus from the Count, followed by a cold dread that had instantly filled his heart. Ulam was on the ground, motionless.

“No! Stop!” Amantius had yelled until his voice became hoarse. “Don’t hurt him! He’s my brother! Jaga, please!”

He had watched the old warchief go from a hand’s width of executing Ulam, to standing idle. Amantius had then let out a breath he did not know he had been holding, and felt relief wash over him like rain. His thoughts had then turned to Morganna, who was still standing beside him, her dark eyes frantically searching the room.

“Where did he go?” She had said, a touch of panic in her words. “Where is Aldamar?”

And then there had been a cry of pain, and Jaga had crashed to the floor beside Ulam. Count Aldamar then emerged from the darkness, a dagger dripping in blood.

How has this happened?

“Traitor,” Aldamar muttered as he wiped the blade on a fallen man’s cloak.

A sudden burst of rage filled Amantius. He wanted to rush forward, grab a sword, and place the blade deep into Count Aldamar’s heart. He struggled for his freedom though, Morganna’s grip seemingly made of the strongest iron. No matter how hard he tried, he could not escape.

“Let go of me!” Amantius demanded as he squirmed. “How are you this strong!?”

“Yes, Sister,” Count Aldamar said, a smirk on his face, “Please enlighten us. Amantius may not be the strongest man in the world, but surely he should be able to break free from your grasp.”

Aldamar’s expression, and Morganna’s hesitation, alarmed Amantius. He struggled a little more, not putting any real effort into escaping while alternating his eyes from brother to sister. Wait. Something is not right. Does Aldamar know something I don’t?

“For all the reasons you are, Brother,” Morganna replied. “I have the same gift you have, but you know this already. You knew this the second I appeared, did you not?”

Same gift? What the hell are they talking about? What kind of gift makes you a thousand times stronger, especially when you are as old as Aldamar or as small as Morganna?

“Gift.” Aldamar spat the word. His face twisted; he was utterly repulsed by the notion. “It is not a gift. It is a curse, a prison sentence. Tell me what is so romantic about being confined to the shadows of a musty, old castle? To forever live in fear of being discovered by the common folk and hunted like a monster? What is so wonderful about forever battling these cravings, these wretched desires to feast on blood? Tell me, Sister, how is being a vampire a gift?”

“A vampire!” Amantius watched as Count Aldamar’s eyes turned from their usual deep black to bright yellow. Two fangs protruded from his upper gums, saliva dripping from them. Amantius saw the muscles in Aldamar’s forearm swell, slowly expanding until he could see the veins bulging under the skin. It was a terrifying sight, to watch someone who looked so frail transform into a bloodthirsty monster before his eyes. Amantius stood perfectly still, mouth wide open, in absolute terror.

“Yes, a vampire.” Count Aldamar said, his voice as calm and collected as always. “I must say I am impressed; when we first met you suspected I carried some dark secret. As a sort of entertainment, I watched you search for clues around the castle, as well as eavesdropped on some of your conversations with your fellow Guards. Of course, I would never be so sloppy to be discovered by such an amateur sleuth, but I do applaud your tenacity. I have met thousands of people who had no idea, who so easily believed my ruse as an eccentric old man. I must ask though, how did you not realize she was a vampire as well?”

Somehow Amantius finally broke away from Morganna’s grasp, either because she had loosened her grip or he finally found the strength to break free. He stood in between them, his eyes fixed on Morganna, hoping she would refute Aldamar’s accusation. As he waited he felt a sickness growing inside, a rotten air taking hold of his lungs. Please say you’re not a vampire, too! Please don’t let it be so!

“I suppose I owe you an apology, Amantius,” Morganna said as her eyes changed from pitch black to a shining yellow, while fangs slowly dropped from her gums. “I should have told you sooner. Alas, I was caught up in the throes of passion and could never find the right time. You must believe me, I never wanted to lie to you, to hide such a huge part of who I am from you.”

Amantius nearly fell over backward, his legs turned to mush. His eyes flickered between brother and sister, both equally terrifying in their own right. Where Aldamar inspired fear through size and strength Morganna took on a more sinister look, her raven black hair highlighting the unnatural tint of her eyes. He looked across the floor at Ulam, his foster-brother still motionless on his back, and felt a wave of regret wash over him. How did we get involved in this, Brother? How?

“Darling,” Morganna said, her tone as soft as velvet, though her appearance was ghastly, “I hope this does not divide us. I want you to be with me after this is all over, to help rule over this city and beyond.”

He refused to look at her, focusing on her honeyed words, pretending she was still the beautiful woman he had known and not the nefarious creature before him. He thought about what she had said about the future, living a life with her in Silverwater. It sounded insane at