- XXXVII -

Amelia sat in a chair in her quarters, hands clutching the armrests, nails leaving marks on the cherrywood. What just had happened was almost unbelievable, like some surreal occurrence in an absurd nightmare.

They had been together for so many years now, and she had never seen Viktor's true face until last night. Amelia had always thought they had formed a strong, unbreakable bond, an alliance in concord, in equality and, if not real love, then at least fondness, affection. Now she knew that Viktor had never had any feelings for her, nor had she ever been his true equal. Amelia had only been an instrument in his power game, a tool he had used to outplay his rivals, to enforce his cruel regime. He had manipulated her, talked her into doing like he pleased, making her think it was right and reasonable.

And Viktor's wish for an heir was the crown of his perfidious plan. Amelia had never thought about bearing a child, had always known when to remain chaste to prevent becoming pregnant. A state like that would make her vulnerable, lessen her strength, her capacity to act as an Elder. And why would she need any offspring? Vampires were immortal. She would rule for all eternity, so she had no use for an heir. Of course she had refused.

And then, when Viktor had realised that he couldn't persuade her with words, he had turned on her, physically assaulted her. With the same hands that had caressed her only moments before, he had dared to attack her. Violence – every patriarch's last option when meeting female resistance.

Condemning her servants to death had been the last wrong she had done in his name. Never again would she allow herself to get blinded by his sweet-talk, his feigned affection, his manipulative tenderness!

With a horrible cracking sound, the armrests splintered under Amelia's iron grip.

They rode for their lives. Twigs and the icy crystals of the beginning snow storm were scratching their hands and faces, while the twenty remaining mortals were trying to escape the hungry hellhounds in the forest.

Ten men, among them the wainwright and the carriage driver, had been torn apart by the werewolves, limb from limb. Semira had been the first to mount a horse and spur it, urging it on with all her strength until it had galloped down the road, away from the Danube. Despite his corpulence, Lajos had been fast enough to do the same and follow his wife. Ilona had grabbed Adorjan and was now riding behind them, the rest of the servants at their heels. Snuffling and growling sounds at their back told them that the beasts were not yet satisfied, that they came after them now.

The boy in Ilona's arms whimpered in fear, keeping his face buried in the fabric of her cloak, not daring to look up. Shivers ran down her spine with every wolfish howl, cold drops of sweat building on her forehead, but she bit down on her lip, determined to keep to the road, keep the horse running. They needed to go faster or else they would die a gruesome death.

Suddenly the trees seemed to become sparse. A clearing lay in front of them. Then, from out of the dancing snow-flakes something dark and enormous appeared, looming over the riders like some giant from the ancient legends. But in the dark mass they could see a few lights, shining out into the night, tiny but warm-coloured. And instinctively the mortals rode towards them, like the shimmer was an anchor, a spark of hope.

When they got nearer to the dark form, Semira realised that it was a castle, built high up into a cliff, and the lights came out of windows and doors.

"Come on! We can take shelter there!" she exclaimed, pressing her heels into the horse's flanks even more.

Although the castle didn't seem very inviting, Ilona followed her sister-in-law. The werewolves' bloodcurdling howls grew louder and louder. Seeking sanctuary behind those thick walls was their only chance, regardless of the building's appearance.

Three sentinels were guarding the main gate of Castle Corvinus, two of them holding fast onto their halberds, the third, their captain, walking up and down the battlement. Werewolves could be heard in the distance, and the vampires, on alert, were keeping an eye on the edge of the woods.

"Are those riders coming out of the forest?" the first halberd-bearer asked.

The second soldier took a look to the South. "You're right, mortals, about twenty by my count. And they're heading straight towards us, like..."

"Werewolves attacking!" the captain on the battlement shouted.

Within seconds the ballistas were charged, the marksmen waiting for the right moment to fire. They let the beasts come up almost half the way to the walls, before they released the large silver-headed spears. Three of the wolves were impaled instantly, but six – among them a huge one with snow-white fur – still chased the mortal riders, unaffected by their brothers' death.

"Sir? What shall we do when the mortals reach the gate?!" one of the guards shouted from below.

The captain considered his options for a moment. He had orders to report to Lord Viktor first before he let anyone into the castle, but on the other hand, those men were in deadly peril.

Ilona let out a horrified cry, when suddenly a swarm of sharp spears was flying over their heads. To her relief, the soldiers on the battlement seemed to be quite good shots, for the weapons only hit the beasts at their heels. Ilona dared to glance over her shoulder, inhaling sharply when she saw that there were still six of those monsters left and they seemed unafraid of the spears. Adorjan had stopped whimpering, his small shoulders shaking violently instead.

Sweat ran down Lajos's back in rivulets and he wheezed heavily. His chest felt tight and heavy, like his lungs and his heart would stop working every second now. Surely the energy-sapping ride for their lives would be his death. How ironic!

Semira's black eyes were fixed on the castle's doors. They were still closed. Why didn't the soldiers open them?! They wouldn't leave them to die out here. Surely, they wouldn't watch the creatures rip them apart, would they?!

"Open the gate!" Semira shouted. "Please!"