Princess of Blood

1

The Blood Tree rose before me, tall and impossibly ancient. Its branches had been bare the last time I'd been in the vast stone chamber leading to Blood House-during the immortality trials, when the tree had shown me a lifetime of my sins-but now they were covered with crimson leaves. The stone tiles beneath my feet felt alive. Power thrummed through the chamber, an invisible current that brushed against a strange new inner sense.

I shivered at the sensation, just one sign of the tremendous and frightening change I'd undergone.

I wasn't human any longer.

I was a faerie-and the new leader of Blood House.

Welcome, Princess Kenna, a voice whispered inside my head. Liquid, female, throbbing like a pulse.

"How do we get inside?" These words were spoken out loud, and I turned my head to look at the speaker. Lara, my former mistress and the excommunicated heir to Earth House, looked as exhausted as she sounded. Like me, she had one arm around a drooping, distant-eyed woman with a shaved head and skin newly lined with scars: Anya Hayes, my best friend from the human world, who I'd thought dead until a few hours ago. She'd been unresponsive but capable of walking when we'd left the corpse-filled throne room, but she'd sagged more with every step. Now she seemed barely conscious.

My chest hurt unbearably as I looked at them. The three of us had survived months of danger and a night of carnage, but at what cost? Lara had been stripped of her magic, her family, and her home; Anya had been tortured in unimaginable ways.

"I'm not sure yet," I told Lara. "I need to figure out what the trap is."

All six Fae houses in the underground city of Mistei had dangerous traps at their entrances. They were tests only house faeries could pass, while intruders were killed gruesomely. Fire House burned unwelcome visitors with a curtain of flame, Earth House drowned them in a tunnel of water . . . What would the faeries of Blood House, who could magically manipulate bodies, have done to keep their borders safe?

They were my borders now, I supposed. The entirety of Blood House had been massacred five hundred years ago by King Osric, but now Osric was dead and the house had been resurrected in the form of . . . me. Just me. The six Sacred Shards that had brought magic to this world had gifted me with immortality and magic, and in exchange, I was supposed to "restore the balance." Whatever that meant. However one person could possibly do that.

My gaze ran over the entrance hall. The checkered black-and-white stone tiles were etched with the faces of monsters, and the gray walls were carved with beings of all types, too: Noble Fae, Underfae, and the dark, twisted Nasties that inhabited the lowest levels of Mistei. The Blood Tree dominated the chamber, reaching its gnarled limbs towards the distant ceiling, and beyond it was an enormous silver door covered in spikes.

I wondered if the Blood Shard was listening to my thoughts, since it had spoken in my head in that dark, welcoming voice. Any help? I thought towards the room in general. A hint on what the trap is?

The Shard didn't respond, but a coil of metal around my bicep did. Caedo-my bloodthirsty, shape-shifting dagger-was currently in the form of a spiraling armband, but it writhed like a serpent beneath my sleeve and sank sharp teeth into me.

I yelped in surprise, looking down at my arm. "Was that necessary?"

"What?" Lara asked, sounding confused.

Caedo nipped me again. You wanted a hint, the dagger said, its voice metallic and genderless in my head.

I eyed the projections on the door. If Caedo could drain a body in seconds, it made sense the house entrance could as well. Now I needed to figure out how to get it to not kill my friends.

"Can you hold Anya?" I asked Lara. My arm should have been aching from supporting her for this long, but I didn't feel the physical exhaustion I would have expected after the throne room fight and the long walk here. The Noble Fae were stronger and more resilient than humans, and I was one of them now.

I was immortal. It was unfathomable.

Lara nodded and looped her arm more firmly around Anya's waist. I let go, heart pinching with grief when Anya wouldn't meet my eyes. Did she still believe I wasn't real? She sagged into Lara's grip, shivering in her flimsy taupe garments.

She needed to get somewhere safe and warm. I would empty any number of veins to make that happen.

I walked around the tree, trailing a hand over its rough trunk. The leaves whispered and sighed. There was a pulse beneath the bark, one that sped until it mirrored mine. It was simultaneously welcoming and unsettling.

Ten more steps took me to the silver door, which was easily twice my height. The spikes covering it were as long as my forearm. Surely I wasn't supposed to impale myself every time I wanted inside.

Then I spotted a sculpted silver wolf's head on the right side of the door, nestled between several spikes at chest height. Its mouth was gaping, and when I bent to peer inside, I saw sharp teeth guarding a cylindrical silver rod.

I'm supposed to stick my hand in there? I asked Caedo silently.

Yes.

The nature of the trap came clear. If a house member grabbed the handle, the door would allow them inside. If an enemy tried, the wolf's teeth would slam together, and the door would consume them.

I hesitated before sliding my hand into the wolf's maw. Even knowing I was the new Princess of Blood, it was a relief when the door didn't immediately bite my hand off.

The metal rod warmed under my palm, and the door started vibrating. A rumbling sound filled the air, like the purring of some enormous cat. Without any effort on my part, the door began to open. I extricated my hand as it slid to the side on smooth tracks, revealing a blackened opening. The air emanating from within smelled dusty and stale, with a faint, aromatic spice beneath.

There were more spikes at the edge of the door, thick ones that had been slotted into the wall. If someone tried to run through the door while it was open, I imagined it would either slam shut, or the points would shape-shift to skewer the intruder.

Welcome home, the Shard whispered in my head.

My skin tingled, and something in my chest-not my heart, but something dark and burning that wrapped around it-pulsed with awareness. The magic that filled me recognized its echo everywhere. A new sense had come to life inside me, like hearing without ears or feeling without touch.

I turned to look at my friends. Lara's face was taut with apprehension, her brown eyes wide as they darted between me and the entrance. Anya still stared at nothing, lost inside her head.

"Blood Shard?" I whispered, not sure where it was or how I was supposed to address it. "Can I bring them with me?"

Claiming a new house member is no small matter, the Shard said in a dark purr. The tree trunk glowed red in one spot, and light began spreading across the bark in branching rivulets. You must be certain.

I faced the heart of that crimson shine. "I'm certain."

"Is the Shard . . . talking to you?" Lara asked softly. At my nod, she looked even more anxious.

"I want them to be members of Blood House," I told the Shard more firmly.

Lara made a pained expression, though she didn't protest. This couldn't be easy for her. Earlier this night she'd been the first daughter of Earth, heir to a house of water and greenery. Now she was a magicless outcast, forced to take shelter in a house of bloodshed and death.

The bark parted, revealing a chunk of garnet-colored crystal. It was hand-sized, curved on one side and jagged on the other. Awe filled me. The Shard had been formed during the destruction of another world beyond the stars, if King Osric was to be believed. It was the echo of a dead god, a vessel containing a fragment of magic that had been launched through the heavens to find a new home.

And it had chosen me to wield that magic.

Crimson light pulsed from the stone with each word. Then claim them.

"You approve?"

Nothing you do is for me to approve.

I wasn't sure I liked that. The Shard had been a god once-it was supposed to tell me what to do, how to be a princess.

I am not the one who came before, the Shard corrected. I am magic and memory. The Shards are woven into the fabric of this world-we do not rule.

I wrapped my arms around myself, rubbing up and down. The blue gauze of my half sleeves was wrinkled and dotted with flakes of dried blood. If it didn't rule . . . apparently I did. "How do I add them to the house?"

Set the intention in your mind. If you will it, I obey.

The Shard was the house, I realized. Or maybe we were all part of something larger, connected by the magic we shared. The tree, the house, the Shard, Caedo . . . and me.

I closed my eyes, breathing in and out slowly. I claim these two as members of Blood House, I thought.

It is done, the Shard whispered back.

It was that easy? I opened my eyes again, then beckoned Lara and Anya forward. "You're part of the house now."

Lara looked mistrustfully at the spiked door. "Are you sure? What if it stabs me?"

"It won't," I said, though my underarms were growing damp from nervous sweat. Putting my faith in the honesty of a sentient rock was difficult, but that sentient rock had also saved my life and given me magic tonight, so I tried to project confidence.

Lara's eyes were reddened from grief and exhaustion. Her green ball gown was torn and spattered with blood, and her wavy black hair was tangled. She swayed, then visibly pulled herself together, spine straightening as she looked at the entrance with determination. "So long as there's a bed in there, I don't care." She shifted Anya into my hold, then walked forward, took a deep breath, and stuck her hand out as if testing whether the door would slam shut on it. When it didn't, she let out an audible sigh of relief.

Anya looked nearly asleep on her feet. "Let's get you inside," I whispered.

The entrance loomed, silent and dark. Whatever lurked inside couldn't be worse than what filled the rest of Mistei, and there would at least be a bed to fall into. The thought of that made me want to cry.

So I urged Anya forward, Lara fell into step beside us, and we made our way into Blood House together.

The door slid shut behind us with an echoing clang. It was pitch black. Everything was still and silent except for a distant trickling sound.

"It's dark," Lara said unnecessarily.

"Maybe I can find a torch."

A vibration went through the floor. A faint red glow sparked in the distance, followed by another. A line of torches came alight one by one, outlining the borders of a vast room.

The house was waking up.

Once the torches on the ground floor were burning, more swelled to life a level above, their fire unusually red. The light sparked up and up, revealing six stories in all. Each level was lined with silver-railed walkways that overlooked the central space, with spiraling staircases anchoring the corners of the room. It had the same layout as Earth House's main hall, but the decor was startlingly different. Earth House was bright and verdant, with a floor of packed soil dotted with flowers and trees. Blood House was paved with gray marble that sparkled in the torchlight, and the garnet-hued walls were coated with silver filigree. The courtyard was anchored by a tiered fountain.

The liquid in the fountain was running red.

"Oh," Lara said, sounding dismayed.

"Oh," I echoed, feeling something more akin to awe.

A deep sense of comfort and safety filled the room-the same comfort I'd once felt as a servant in Earth House. The house's magic was wrapping us in a soothing blanket of welcome, letting us know we were home. The couches against the walls looked plush and inviting, as if they wanted us to rest. But the fountain was spilling blood, and the filigree wasn't the only shining ornamentation in the room-axes, swords, pikes, and spears rested in wooden racks and hung from brackets over the couches, as if the faeries of Blood House had never relaxed without a weapon close to hand.

A mix of softness and violence, beauty and death.

I brought Anya to a settee tucked beneath the curve of a staircase. It was upholstered in burgundy velvet, and a sword hung from the wall beside it. Dust puffed up as the couch took her weight, and she curled up on her side, closing her eyes.

Lara was exploring the room, trailing her fingers over the walls and furniture. She wrapped her hand around the haft of an axe, stared at it contemplatively for a few moments, then let go.

The weapons deserved investigation, but the liquid music of the fountain drew my attention. I crossed to it and sat on the dust-rimed edge, watching the fall of blood. The air was spiced with the coppery rich scent, and I didn't find it nearly as disgusting as I ought to. Whose blood is this? I asked Caedo silently.

The first princess began it with the blood of her enemies. You can add some from your next kill.

A cold shiver raced down my spine. I was a murderer now, and the dagger expected me to kill again. Worse, I expected myself to kill again. Illusion and Light House would be regrouping after the battle in the throne room. There would be violence as Mistei grappled with the question of who would rule next.

Ash-gray eyes filled my mind. Copper hair, a smile that flickered like flame, hands that had burned. A voice that had whispered promises in the dark and cruelties in the light.

I didn't want to think about Prince Drustan of Fire House, so I shoved the vision away.

The first princess had morbid taste, I told Caedo.

The dagger seemed amused as it pulsed against my skin. You will learn to appreciate blood. It slid down my arm like liquid, circling my wrist. I watched, fascinated, as it stretched narrow tendrils over my hand, mapping the spread of tendons before sending shoots over my fingers. It looked like a separate skeleton laid atop mine. Those metal bones were anchored in place with rings between each knuckle, and the tips sharpened into claws.