The Seasonal Debt

The rain in the Vampire District did not feel like the life giving water of my home. It felt like liquid needles. It was cold and grey and carried the scent of old metal. I stood on the center of the bridge that separated the Summer Court from the Under City. Behind me my people were already retreating into the safety of the green woods. They did not look back at me. They were too busy clutching their fading silks and whispering about the debt that had finally been paid. I was the debt. I was the princess of a sun that was barely flickering and now I was being handed over to the dark.

I kept my chin high. My skin was warm despite the damp chill of the night. It was a natural heat that radiated from my very bones. I could feel the steam rising off my shoulders as the rain touched my skin. I refused to shiver. I would not give the monsters on the other side of the bridge the satisfaction of seeing me weak.

A group of men stood at the far end of the bridge. They wore sharp black suits that looked like they cost more than a year of harvests in the Summer Court. They did not move. They did not blink. They stood with a terrifying stillness that reminded me of statues in a graveyard. Their eyes were fixed on me. I could feel the weight of their hunger and their curiosity. To them I was a battery. I was a source of a power they had not felt in centuries.

"Step forward Lady Elara." One of the men commanded.

His voice was thin and dry. He had skin the color of old parchment and eyes that looked like dried blood. He did not move to help me with my single trunk of belongings. He simply waited.

"I am not a dog to be whistled for." I said. My voice carried across the stone bridge. "If your King wants his prize he can come fetch it himself."

The vampire flinched. The temperature around me spiked by a few degrees. I could feel my inner fire responding to my anger. The mist near my feet began to swirl and evaporate. I was a Summer Elemental and even if my magic was fading I was still dangerous.

A heavy black car sat idling behind the guards. The engine made a low predatory hum. The back door clicked open. A man stepped out into the rain. He did not use an umbrella. He did not seem to care that the water was soaking into his expensive wool coat. He moved with a lethal grace that made the other vampires look like clumsy children. He was tall and broad and his hair was as black as the midnight sky.

This was Silas. He was the King of the Obsidian Spire. He was the man who had bought my life to save his dying city.

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