He laughed and eased off me, leaving me breathless. “You’re right. You’re just too quick for me, Ara.”
When he offered his hand to help me up, I ignored it and rolled over, clambering clumsily to my feet. “I had you. You were pinned.”
Mike smirked, wiping blood off his neck. “You’re right. You did. But you let your guard down, baby, and the battle flipped in my favour.”
“Well—” I dusted myself off and looked at Falcon, who was covering his grin, then back at Mike. “It won't happen again.”
The boys laughed behind me as I stormed from the training hall, into the cool sprinkle of summer rain outside.
The greyish glow of the single torch in the corner under the stone steps gave little light to the room; I sat on a chair in the border of its warmth, tapping my fingers on the round table, checking my watch every few seconds. Mike had a good excuse for being late to the council meeting, because Emily apparently arrived about ten minutes ago, but where were the rest of them?
Somewhere up in the Throne Room, a door slammed, its sudden echo making me jump a little, while a quick gust of air rushed down the tunnel of stairs, sweeping the roundness of the room, and blew out my torchlight, thrusting me into the pitch black of the underground.
“Looks like even the flames gave up waiting,” I said to the torch, standing up. In the darkness, it almost felt like I could hit my head on something, though I knew the roof was much too high for that. I felt my way around the cold stone curve of the table and wandered, hands out, to the wall under the stairs, finding the matchbox right where we usually left it. The birth of the flame brought an instant bubble of safety with its warm glow. I rested it to the wick of the torch; it sizzled and flourished into a bold, bright light again, touching the shadows in the corner under the stairs. I quickly looked around to make sure there were no Bogey Men, then sighed, my shoulders dropping.
“Who? Amara?” Morgaine said in a high-pitched voice, coming down the stairs. “Blade—what are you saying?”
“You know what I'm saying, Morg.”
I dropped the unstruck match to my side and pressed my back against the wall, masking myself in the shadows.
“Yes, I think I do, and I can't say I'm terribly impressed.”
As they walked in and sat down with their backs to me, I drew my toes into the shadows, hoping the rapid beating of Blade’s heart would hide my own. But they seemed too distracted by their conversation to even notice my partially heavy breathing.
Blade rested his head in his hands. “I just don't get it. Why am I so hooked on her?”
Morgaine laughed softly. “It’s the curse of her blood—Lilith’s blood.”
“Queen Lilith?”
“No, the original Lilith. History reports that she was cursed with beauty beyond imagination and the burden of desire. This was believed to have been a punishment for deceiving Eve—convincing her to eat the Fruit of Wisdom.” Morgaine touched Blade’s shoulder. “Cain, Lilith’s husband, had been cursed for the murder of his bother with a thirst for blood. All who take the poison of the cursed inherit the burden. For the Created, we simply became vampires, but any who descend from the bloodline of Lilith will take the hearts of men. It’s why Lilith was known in history as the Goddess of Seduction.”
“I don't get it? What does that have to do with this?” He pressed his hand to his chest.
“Because any man that piques her interest will be cursed to love her.”
“So—this isn’t real? It’s just that she, what, Amara fancies me? That's why I feel like I’ll die if I don't hold her?”
“Yes.”
“But I don't have any feelings for him, Morg!” I shot forward, aiming a finger in Blade’s direction; they both spun around, shock paling their faces. “I don't. How can he be cursed if I don't feel anything for him?”
She shook her head slightly, sitting back a little. “Did you ever feel a flutter in your heart for him—maybe for a certain action—perhaps he was kind, perhaps a certain smile or something?”
I swallowed, my eyes tearing, mouth open like I could say something to defend myself.
“That’s all it takes, Princess,” Morgaine added.
“But, I mean…we just…”
“Exactly,” she said with a smug grin.
“When were you planning to tell me this?” I yelled, digging my finger into my chest.
“I wasn’t allowed to.” She held up defensive or maybe calming hands.
“Who said?”
“Mike.”
I took a few deep, laboured breaths, my shoulders rising and falling until it all came down on top of me. I sunk into the chair beside Blade, my head in my hands. “Oh, God. Blade. I'm so sorry.”
“Don't be, Amara.” He touched my shoulder.
“Blade!” Morgaine gasped. “I understand you have feelings for our queen, but there are boundaries. You have no right to touch her.”
“I know.” He dropped his hand, then slipped off his chair and squatted beside me. “I'm sorry. It’s just—can't you see, Morg? She blames herself.”
Morgaine sat in Blade’s chair and took my hand. “This is not in your control, Amara. It’s a curse—one you inherited with your blood.”
“So, I’m cursed to make men fall for me—for a simple thing as liking their smile?”
“Yes.” Morgaine looked down.
“But—I don’t love Blade. I mean, I like him as a friend, but—”
“It doesn't matter. You care about him. That’s all it takes.”
“Oh, God!” I buried my face in my hands. “I'm so stupid.”
“No. Mike’s stupid.” Morgaine reached across, between Blade and I, and placed her hand on my shoulder, bringing us all into a huddle. “He should’ve let David tell you.”
“So, David knows?”
“Yes.”
“Wait!” I pushed her hand off me, sitting straight, eyes wide. “The curse—does that mean David's love for me isn’t real?”
“No, it’s real.” Morg laughed. “David fell for you before you were changed—as did Mike. But you, my friend—” she turned to Blade, “—you are just a part of an eternal curse Amara has to suffer for the sins of her ancestors.”
“Morg, are you sure, I mean, about the curse taking hold after David and I fell in love?”