Chapter Two
A Hundred Years Later…
Cezar:
The thunder of hoof beats pounded in my ears as I urged Beauty forward, gently kicking the sides of my boots into her ribs. The horse raced onward, her black mane whipping back in the wind with my own. I leaned forward on my saddle, as we grew closer and closer to the twisted, dead tree that marked the end of our race. As we came upon it, I peered over my shoulder to see where my opponent was. My cousin was no where to be seen. He'd been left in our dust long ago.
As I came upon the old tree, an oddly shaped figure came into view. A young man with wavy, wheat colored hair sat on the back of a monstrous white stallion. I'd been beaten again.
"You cheated." I mumbled once I arrived at the tree.
"No I didn't." Sorin said, his lips spreading into a crooked smile. "Beast just happens to be faster than your little mare." He said, patting the big horse on its thick neck.
"No, Beauty's faster, it's just that your giant of a horse has a longer stride than her. Cheater." I growled in irritation. How the hell did he keep beating me? Not only am I a prince, but my blood is much stronger than his. I should not be loosing to him.
He rolled his mismatched eyes and chuckled. He had the strangest eyes. The right one was blue-green, the same as his mother's and the left was a dark crimson red like his father and practically every member of the Dare family, including myself. Father said that his eyes held a special power. He called them the "Eyes of Truth" for they were able to see through people and read their souls or some other nonsense. Father was an Allseer and he knew and said things that I didn't understand in the slightest. Sorin never said anything about having any kind of special abilities. He was actually pretty weak for one of noble birth, especially for the son of Julian Dare, one of the most powerful Pure Bloods in existence.
Riding behind him at a slow pace, he and I headed back to the Truth Estate, where the family was spending the summer. After, putting Beast and Beauty back in their stalls, we went inside where we were supposed to join my mother for tea.
We entered the well decorated sitting room and took our seats around a small table. Mother was already there waiting for us. "There you are." She began with a light laugh, "I was about to send out a search party."
"Sorry we're late, mother. The ride took longer than we had planned." I explained, with a quick apologetic bow.
"Racing again, I presume." She said, one eye brow quirking upward as she took a sip of her tea.
"I wouldn't exactly call that a race." I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest angrily.
Mother smiled bemusedly at Sorin. "You beat him again, didn't you?" She asked him.
"Yes, and he's as miffed about it as ever." He sighed mockingly.
I growled at him and bore my fangs. "I can beat you any day of the week, weakling."
"The strength of my blood has absolutely nothing to do with my riding skills, Little Cousin. You should know that by now." He said, calmly, giving me a challenging look. He smirked with devilish humor. "The same can be said for many other things."
"That's enough, boys." Mother chimed in her sultry voice. "Sit down and have your tea, before it gets cold."
With a final grumble, we did as we were told. The tea was warm and soothing as it passed down my throat. I crossed my legs and watched my cousin over the rim of my cup as he stuffed as many cookies and cakes in his mouth as he could. Disgusting. I hated sweet things. Feeling I was being watched, my crimson eyes shifted to meet my mother's. She was sitting eerily still, staring blankly at me, her tea cup and plate trembling in her hands.
"What's wrong mother?" I asked, concerned.
"N-nothing." She breathed, blinking out of her stupor. "It's just…the way you're tapping your index finger on your teacup in irritation…it…reminds me of him. " She explained, her voice drenched in sadness.
She needn't even say his name. I knew who she spoke of. Who I reminded her of. The man I call my father, is not really my father at all. At least not biologically. I had been born out of wedlock. A bastard child, some called me behind my back. My true father was Dragomir Constinesque, my mother's lover. I've never met him. He died before I was born, yet I know him. He looked back at me whenever I looked in the mirror. I had his face, his expressions, and his mannerisms. Mother says that even my voice sounds like him. As I've grown older, I've become increasingly aware that sometimes my presence is painful for her.
A gentile rap at the door, interrupted my deep thoughts. We all looked towards the door as a small young woman entered. It was my sister, Antoinette. She was petite with long silver hair and ebony eyes. Very pretty, although obviously frail with illness. She had been born with a defected heart. It was very weak, so she had to rest a lot. She was confined to her room most of the time. Most likely due to her lifetime of confinement, she had grown into a soft spoken, shy girl. At a hundred years old now, she had yet to loose her childish innocence. She was still very much like a child, which was why I had to be so protective of her.
She walked into the room, slowly and carefully and spun around for us. She was wearing a new soft pink dress with off the shoulder sleeves and ruffles along the trim of the skirt. Her silky locks had been curled at their tips. A pretty ribbon tied her hair back, away from her face. A smile played on her peach pink lips and her pale cheeks became rosy. "How do I look?" She asked us, her voice soft with shyness.
"You look lovely, dear." Mother complimented. She rose elegantly from her chair and went to wrap her loving arms around her daughter.
"That's um…a pretty dress. It uh…looks nice on you." Sorin stumbled, his face blushing crimson. His multi-colored eyes became locked on the floor and he hands tightened at his sides.
I watched him suspiciously. Was he always so nervous around Antoinette?
Pleased to receive such praise, Antoinette beamed at our cousin, "Thank you, Sorin." She giggled, her smile bright and warm, despite the weakness in her voice and the quivering of her legs beneath her weight.
Sorin's face became a deep shade of burgundy.
"Why are you all dressed up?" I asked, both curious and suspicious.
Antoinette shot mother a troubled look, her smile vanishing. "You didn't tell him?" She whispered.
"Tell me what?" I asked, my brows furrowed and my hands clinched into fists.
"Antoinette's going to the soiree with you tonight." Mother replied matter-of-factly.
"Absolutely not." I growled, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at Antoinette stubbornly. "You're too sick."
"Please, let me go!" She pleaded. She clutched at my arm and batted her eyelashes up at me in that infuriating way that I can never ignore or refuse. "I promise I'll be careful not to over exert myself. I've never been to a soiree before. I really want to go. Please, brother!"
"No." I said with finality. I pulled my arm free of her grip and stepped away from her. "It's stupid to risk your health just to go to a stupid soiree. They're boring, Annie, you won't like it."
"You get to go all the time." She groaned.
"Yes, and I hate every minute of it. I go because I'm next in line for the throne. I have to go. I don't have a choice."
"And you have no choice in this matter, either." Said mother, her tone leaving nothing left to argue.
"Mother, she's too frail. She won't be able to dance, even if she goes." I gave one final protest.
Mother's eyes danced between the three of us. The red irises stalled ever so slightly on Antoinette's pale face, before she turned their attention back to me. "Cezar, may I have a word with you in private?" She asked.
I agreed, with some hesitation, and followed her out into the hallway. "Cezar." She whispered my name in exasperation as soon as the door was shut be hind her. "Please do this for me. I know that Annie is frail. We could loose her at any moment…" Her voice trailed off briefly as she frantically tried to rid her mind of the terrible thought of her perhaps loosing her only daughter. "But that is precisely why you must take her with you tonight. She has always wanted to dress up and attend the soirees as you do. I never cared for them, but if it is what she wants, then I dare not take that dream from her."
"So…" I began, my eyes narrowed shrewdly at her. " This is some dieing wish you're granting?" I half growled. "If you'd make her rest as she should, then her health would not be in such a steep decline." I began to rage.
"Quiet." Mother pleaded in an angry whisper. "They'll hear you." She grabbed my sleeve and tugged me away from the door. "Cezar, Antoinette has spent most of her hundred years in bed, never straying far from the castle grounds. I remember what it was like to feel like a prisoner in my own home…to be denied simple freedom." She began to blink rapidly, fighting in vain to hold back the tears forming in her eyes. "I don't want her to die, feeling like she wasn't allowed to live." She sobbed.
I couldn't say no to that. Who could? I sighed angrily, not at all pleased to be manipulated out of my firm stand on the subject. "Fine. I'll take her." Mother thanked me enthusiastically with a tight hug and a kiss on my temple. "I'm not going to baby sit her. I will have my pretty ladies, Mother." I grinned devilishly at her and wagged my eyebrows. I was happy to see her smile and hear her laugh. She rarely showed such joy. Wondering if every breath will be your child's last, will do that to you.
"I swear you are your father's son, Cezar. A lecher to the core." She said lightheartedly, though her eyes were heavy with unspoken sadness.
"Where's Father and Logan?" I asked, desperately trying to change the subject. I hated my real father for dieing, for leaving my mother's heart so entirely broken. If it wasn't for Stefan, I'm not sure if either of us would have survived his death.
Mother's eyes instantly lightened at the mention of Logan's name. "Stefan took him to the beach." She said with a bright smile.
Logan was her youngest child with Stefan, the youngest of all three of us. There were quite a few decades between our ages. After Antoinette was born with her health problems, they had decided not to have any more children, for fear that another child would be born only to die at a young age. However, Logan still arrived. Father insisted that he was using magic to prevent such a birth, but obviously it's not entirely affective. Thankfully, Logan was born healthy. He was now Mother's golden child. She adored him and sometimes that affection made me feel a bit abandoned. I admit, I would have preferred that Logan had not been born. For unlike my weak sister, Logan was a threat. He was a Pure Blood, without any medical issues to hold him back from ruling. I was still and will always be the weak blooded bastard child.
"I was just thinking about going to join them. Would you like to go?" She asked.
"Sure." I replied, willing away the bitterness taking hold of me. "I'll go get Antoinette ready. I'm sure she'd like to show Father her dress, before we leave for the soiree."
My mother, Sorin, Antoinette and I headed down to the beach. Mother had changed into a light weight sundress, the color of sunflower petals. Sorin and I had rolled up our pants' legs, our feet were left bare, better suited to the surf and the sand. I carried Annie on my back, both to ease the stress of the journey down from the cliff to the shore on her heart and to keep her dress clean.
Mother grinned from ear to ear as soon as Father and Logan came into view. They were sword fighting with driftwood. It looked like a game, though I'm sure it was Father's way of training the young boy. Logan was swatting at him with all his might, without any real care to strategize, while he halfheartedly blocked the child's blows. Logan pretended to stab Stefan in the gut and Stefan fell back into the sand with a grunt. He pretended to be dead, while Logan victoriously continued to whack at him with his stick.
Suddenly Stefan sprung to life and grabbed the boy by the waist, he wrestled him to the ground and tickled him until he was nearly gasping for breath. I could hear their laughter on the night's ocean breeze, flowing over the moonlit sand. It made the now familiar agony of jealousy twist in my stomach.
"Stefan! Logan!" Mother called out to them as she trudged through the sand. Stefan released his captive and watched Logan run into Mother's arms. She twirled with him and kissed his brow, much like she did me when I was small. "My boy!" She cooed, petting his silver hair. "Did you have fun, fighting with Daddy?" She asked.
Stefan's miniature bobbed his little head. The moonlight reflected off of the boy's large crimson eyes. "I killed him." He said with a proud, lopsided grin.
"Did you?" She laughed, smirking at Stefan. "What happened, dear? Are you loosing your edge already?" She teased playfully.
"Hardly." Stefan chuckled, smirking back at her. He dragged himself back onto his feet and brushed the sand from his clothes. "Logan's getting to be a good swordsman." He said. He walked up to them and ruffled Logan's hair. He looked past Mother to Sorin. "You'd better warn your father, Sorin. Logan will put him to shame one day."
"Oh I'm sure he'll just love the challenge." Laughed Sorin. "He gets bored fighting Mother all the time."
"I very much doubt that." Said Mother with disbelief. "Aurora's not really the kind of woman you can get bored of."
"Yeah. Father's slowed down a lot recently, but she's still going a thousand miles an hour."
Stefan's black eyes shifted slightly to where I was standing, still carrying Antoinette on my back. "Annie? Is that you?" He asked playfully.
I gently let Antoinette down.
Stefan came to her and wrapped her in his fatherly embrace. "You look so lovely, Annie." He whispered.
He released her from the hug and held her away from him slightly so that he could admire her pretty dress. "Where are you off to?" He asked.
"Mother said I could go to the soiree tonight with Sorin and Cezar." Antoinette grinned, pleased to be given this small freedom.
"Did she?" Stefan shot a worried glance Mother's way. She smiled apologetically, knowing he'd understand why she'd made such a choice. "Well," He breathed heavily. "If your mother said it was okay, I suppose I can't refuse." He looked to me again, our eyes meeting. "Cezar, I'll be putting you in charge. You'll take care of your sister for us, won't you?"
"Of course." I said. "Don't I always?"
"True." Stefan smiled. "You've been a very good protector for her. You might as well be an honorary Allseer. Just be careful. Don't get too distracted by all those twirling skirts." He smirked at me and I laughed, knowing that it would be a very difficult task.
Author's Note: Sorry about the wait everyone. I wanted to get caught up on some other stories and I was also busy with college assignments. I wanted to address a theme in this story that may bother some people. It seems that Sorin may have some feelings for Antoinette. But she's his second cousin! Don't freak out too much. I based strigoi society on that of the 1800's. During this time it was very common for cousins to marry, it's only recently become taboo in America. It's still a common practice in other parts of the world. Also, during this time in the world of Black Waltz there are very few Pure Bloods left, so breeding between cousins has become unavoidable as all Pure Bloods are at least distantly related. Though they are in desperate straits, the Strigoi are very careful with who they breed with so they can hopefully avoid mutations such as what has occurred with Antoinette. Breeding between relatives any closer than cousins is frowned upon.
Anyway, I hope that cleared some stuff up and that you're enjoying the story so far. I promise some actual action will occur in the next chapter.