130

“So, the tattoos?”, Sycamore asked as he toweled off. I wanted to touch him, but I don’t think he would return the favour if I did, because if he wanted to touch me, he would have done so in the bathroom.

“I saw it on Eloive’s skin.”

He frowned. “Eloive? I don’t think I know the lad.”

“He’s Ruarc’s son.”

“So, what about him?”

“Well, he and his uncle were arguing and his uncle, Thane snapped his neck out of anger. He fell to the ground dead and when he woke up, healed or whatever, he had tattoos on his left arm.”

Sycamore slipped on underwear before asking, “Was the arm fully tatted?”

I nod.

He sighed. “What about it? Should I be worried?”

“It’s not your job to worry about the son of the enemy Crimson.”

“Ruarc is not my enemy. He’s, my mate.”

“That’s where you’re wrong Crimson. He is not your mate. You are his mate. There’s a difference.”

“Nah, it’s just your jealousy speaking.”

A deep rumble left his chest. “Jealousy? Why the fuck would I be jealous of an Icelander huh?”

“I don’t know, maybe because he has the freedom you don’t?”

He laughed. “There’s not a single Icelander that is free Crinka. He might be a royal, but he is still an Icelander. That curse isn’t just going to disappear.”

I frown. “What curse are you talking about?”

“What did the tattoos look like?”

My frown deepens. “Why the fuck are you avoiding the question?”

He exhaled sharply. “Crinka, do you want me to tell you about the tattoos or not?”

“What I want is for you to tell me about the tattoos and the curse.”

“I can only tell you about the tattoos. If you want to know about the curse, ask the ones who have been cursed. Now, what did the tattoos look like?”

“Skulls, bones, knives and waves, so intricately designed. I didn’t understand it. I still don’t.”

“Skulls and bones signify death. Knives and waves signify the medium of death. Waves in the sense that the person died by drowning. Knives in the sense that the person died by stabbing or some other way.”

“Sia mentioned that he tried committing suicide at some point.”

“There you have it.”

“Why am I seeing these things? Is it normal to see these things?”

“For hellhounds, yes. The tattoos tell you how many times one has escaped death.”

“And this information is needed because?”

“If the tattoos have reached a certain number, it means that the individual in question is tired of life. And we, because we’re so merciful, we end their life for good,” he explained.

“Stop saying we. I’m not a hellhound yet.”

“But you will be, when the time is right.”

The emergency siren rang and its loud pitch made me forget what I wanted to say. Why the fuck is Thjis summoning us?

Sycamore looked at me. “I guess it’s time I give your lover control. I’m not ready to go public yet.”

I watched as his eyes switched from violet to white. Somehow, seeing those orbs devoid of colour excited me. I missed the fucking asshole, though I will never admit that to his face. Sia smiled as he looked at me.

”Never thought I’d see you again, but here you are looking sexy as usual.”

I roll my eyes. “Your compliments won’t get me to forgive you.”

“I don’t care about your forgiveness. Now get dressed. The king has summoned us and we cannot afford to be late.”

…..

Unlike the last time we were summoned, every member of the royal family was present, including Ruarc’s wives. I was surprised to see Dogara by Thjis side, his arm around her waist. Either she has forgiven him or it was just to keep up with appearances. Ruarc’s wives held onto each other, their faces gloomy. Eloive looked so downcast, I wondered what’s up with him.

The summoned crowd were murmuring and it wasn’t until I moved away from Sia that I understood why.

On the stage before the podium lay a dead boy. He had a stake buried in his head and he had been wrapped with a gift wrapper. Someone must have sent it as a gift.

Thjis walked up to the podium and took the microphone. “My family and I were about to have breakfast, when this body arrived. It’s a human boy and he’s only been a day old. Now, I called you all here so that you could identify him. If he’s your son or brother, or cousin, friends, nephew or foe, I want you to speak up.”

One woman walked forward and the crowd parted for her. Her eyes were red, cheeks puffy, evidence that she had been crying.

“The boy is my son, my king.”

Thjis rose a brow. “So, you kill your son and thought it wise to gift his dead body as a present?”

She shook her head. “I would never, my king.”

He pursed her lips. “Did you know he was my dead?”

She shook her head. “I would never, my king.”

“Your son has a stake buried in his head. My guess is he picked a fight with the wrong vampire. Now my question is, did your son know of any vampire?”

“No, my king.”

“Did you?”

“No, my king.”

“The body came with a note, I’m guessing the killer left. It read, ‘Another vow was broken. A mother couldn’t protect her child and the king couldn’t protect his subject. Merry Christmas everyone, if only Colin could say the same.”

The woman became wailing once Thjis had finished. His face hardened as he asked and another question, “Colin?”

“His name, my king.”

“Surname?”

“Travis, my king.”

“Mrs. Travis. Whoever did this to your son has insulted my jurisdiction as a leader. I swear to you today that your killer would be found and thoroughly dealt with. The gates would be closed to prevent this killer can escape.”

“May I ask you a question my king?”

“You may.”

“Do you think it was a vampire that did it?”

Thjis laughed. “A vampire!”, he exclaimed. “She thinks it’s a vampire who did it! Now let me tell you something Mrs. Travis. If the killer was a vampire, I don’t think you’d ever find the body. But since you are afraid, I’d ask the vampires to excuse us, so we can conduct proper research on who killed your son.”

“He was my only child, my king.”

“And you would be duly compensated. I believe another baby boy would be enough to suffice for your dead son.”

Another baby boy? What’s the guarantee that she would love him like her own?

“Moreso, I believe this note was written by the killer, so I’d have to ask every individual in this kingdom to write down a note so similar. The one with the same handwriting would be chosen. To avoid this being messy, it would be done in the palace. A ball would be held in each palace and I expect everyone to be in attendance. An invitation would be sent out to every family under my watch. After the ball, the handwriting session would begin.”

“If I may ask my king, when is this ball?”

Thjis smiled. “I’ll tell you when the time is right. Right now, you go home and look after yourself. Prepare for the ball, for you might never know when the hour will come.”

No one moved. He glared. “I have asked you now to leave politely. If I have to do so again, it won’t be polite.”

And as though they were relieved of some spell, they started to move.