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CHAPTER 23

Blake Moreno Bowmen

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Blood would surely spill, but with his mother away, his elders here, and the seven laws, there was little the North could do to him.

That was, of course, before Amber Marigold showed up at the ball. After keeping his distance for three months, seeing her at the entrance, he could do nothing but stare. Stare as she danced with Rhodes. Stare as she talked to Calvin. And stare while she rotated partners on the dance floor.

Blake grabbed champagne from a bulky waiter and watched the girl dance with Lynch now. She was undoubtedly the brightest person in the room, laughing and twirling. It was hard to imagine her belonging to Sterling. Is she truly their first kin's daughter? Blake had thrown himself into work after learning who Amber was. He did anything his uncle asked. Anything to distract himself.

Lynch stepped on Amber's foot, and the two of them laughed.

Blake frowned. He had agreed with Rhodes to leave Amber alone. Although he was reluctant, he did it. All for nought now.

Lynch looked over and froze. As the song ended, he hastily bowed to Amber and rushed over. The cyng turned around, unsure where he was headed towards.

"Hey, Blake, wait up!" the kid called, grabbing onto his shoulder. Blake turned and scowled at his friend's golden bowtie.

"You're her date?" he asked. "How?"

Lynch looked away, twirling a lock of hair between his fingers.

"Uh, well... AmbertextedmeandaskedtobeherdateandIsaidyes."

"What?"

"AmbertextedmeandaskedtobeherdateandIsaidyes."

"Lynch."

The boy met his eyes. "Amber texted me and asked to be her date, and I said yes," he admitted with slumped shoulders.

"Lynch, you knew we were keeping our distance from her. How could you let her come?"

"She was invited. She was going to come with or without me."

Blake paused. He looked over to the dance floor, but the girl was gone. If Xavier invited her, did that mean... He knows. A cold sweat broke across him. Xavier had to know who Amber was.

Grabbing his phone, Blake checked the text he got earlier.

Unknown
You have until midnight.
19:30

Time was ticking.

"Everything alright?" came a cold voice.

A knee clicked with the approaching steps, and Blake put his phone away to meet his friend. Jack was dressed in a faded tux that complimented his eyes. Silver piercings frosted his eyebrows and ears, and he wore the same choker and chains he always did.

"Any progress on the unknown number's identity?" Blake asked.

Jack hesitated. He pocketed his hands and stared at the dancers.

"Still the same," he said. "Can't hack into the number itself. Walls are too high. Funny enough, I could trace the IP to Tygerwel recently, but without their ISP, I can't pin down specifics."

Blake shook his head. Of course, he thought. Jack could hack into anything except the thing he needed most these last three years. Although they had been a help, their hidden identity was unnerving.

"Where's the rest of my kin?" Blake asked.

"Baldie's preoccupied with Jessy," Lynch answered, pointing at Enrique on the dance floor. "And the ginger is walking over."

Blake turned just as his first kin approached them.

"What's with the worried face?" Calvin asked.

"There's not much time left until Xavier springs his trap."

"Are you worried?" Calvin crossed his arms. "No matter what he has planned, by our laws, he can't kill you unless you allow him."

But he can hurt any of you, Blake wanted to add.

People around them started whispering, and he followed their stares to the glass doors. A couple stepped back inside. He stiffened. Walking in came the cyng of the North, and linked by his arm was Amber Marigold.

"There's more to fear than dying," Blake said.

The orchestra started Danse Macabre and made it sound even more sinister. As if a story about Death summoning the dead to dance away the night was not eerie enough. When midnight strikes, the corpses will return to their graves. This had to be it.

Everyone took a step away from the two of them. No, it was like Blake got pushed back by their presence. Were they going to dance or fight? Even as the music picked up and they started moving, the cyng was unsure.

Gliding; turning; Amber was made of liquid gold. Her dress flowed, spilled around her with every step, and the chandeliers made her all but glow. A stark contrast to her partner. Stiff, in control, the Northern cyng moved with the intensity of a blazing forge.

If Amber was gold, Xavier was the fire that could melt her.

Blake looked down at his watch, pushing his bracelet back to see the time. There were five minutes left.

"I have to find my elder kin," he said.

"I think I saw Dominic by the entrance," Calvin replied.

The cyng of the West pushed past the crowd, bumping into a large waiter. He looked back to glare, then stopped. A scar peered out from the man's neck, but he turned and left too soon for conclusions to be made.

Blake was running out of time. When he got to the entrance, his uncle stood there with the rest of his elders. The man turned, and they locked eyes. He had already told his uncle that Xavier was planning something. He needed as many men with him as he could.

His elder's lips curled up, dark eyes gleaming, and with a short wave, Dominic left.

He... left?

The music picked up, rising with his heartbeat. No time to run after his uncle, Blake returned to the crowd, shoving his way to the edge of the circle. He wanted to go over and stop the dance, to stop Xavier, but... that gold paralysed him to the spot.

We're even now.

Those were her words after she smeared red paint on him all that time ago. But they had not been even for a while. He should have told her the truth. He should have admitted her parents were part of a bloodline. But he kept it to himself. Not to spare her the confusion. Not to quietly dispel a potential threat to the Dynast. And certainly not because of his agreement with Rhodes.

No, he did it because he was afraid.

Afraid that once this life claimed her, she would either be like his brother, too good and too brief, or she would end up just like him.

A tap on his back, Blake spun around. Camila stood grinning like a cat. She wore a black gown with lacy sleeves and a slit down her chest. He returned his attention to the dance.

"Camila."

"How many times must I remind you to call me Cam?"

"Go stand somewhere else."

The girl tensed. Then relaxed.

"But I like it here with you."

"How'd you get in? I don't see any scars on you yet."

"Oh, my brother's my date."

Bile pricked the back of Blake's throat.

"I wouldn't brag about being related to BD. Disgusting."

The girl's lips pressed together. She turned her gaze to the dance.

"I guess I can't compare to the blonde bimbo," she said. "But she's not as pure as you think. The bitch got a massive load of self-righteousness stuffed up her ass. Plays the good girl a little too perfectly. I can see that fake shit from a mile away."

"Get a mirror, Camila."

"Oh, I'm a bitch through and through, but at least I own it. I'm not off pretending I care. Either way, I guess the slut's lucky."

"What you getting at?"

She tilted her head, sighing.

"They do look good together, don't they?"

"What do you mean?" Blake asked. His insides twisted along with the notes.

"You know, there was a time I thought I could convince you to let me join the West. I guess it's too late for that now." Her eyes were still on the dancing couple, but she was watching something far away. "At least, if I'm meant to stay trapped with the North, I'm trapped with the winning side. Amber too. If Xavier thinks she's a good fuck, maybe he'll let her live when everything goes to shit." She turned her back to the dance.

"What's he planning?" Blake insisted, grabbing her am.

Camila shook him off, a grin growing once more.

"I didn't wear black tonight for nothing," she said and left.

The music neared its end, and when Blake looked around, the waiters were all positioned by the walls, hands reaching into their jackets. He spun to the dance floor, legs ready to move. Just as Xavier brought Amber up for a hold, the boy's eyes locked with hers. He could have sworn the words she mouthed told him to run.

The Dance of Death ended, and all at once, everything fell to ruin.

Gunfire rattled, ripped through the air, tearing at Blake's memory until he returned to that nightmare from three years ago.

A breeze ruffled his hair. Earthy, fresh. The mountains leading out of Tygerwel were set ablaze in the setting sun. They passed at a glacial pace while the boy leaned his head against the car window. Cold glass kissed his cheek; his eyes drooped shut.

Blake held his head, defending against the panicked shrieks shredding his ears. He looked up, eyes searching the ballroom. The primary source of gunfire came from the orchestra, where a brunet man fired his automatic in the air. The surrounding waiters pulled out pistols, firing once or twice before charging with fists and taunts.

Stumbling behind a pillar, he fumbled under his jacket and pulled out a gun. Pressed close, the weapon rose and fell along with his chest. He gulped for air but could not for the life of him breathe.

Opening his eyes again, the boy stared at the passenger seat in front, at the head of dark hair peppered with silver streaks. His father turned to the driver, lips moving as he gestured to the road. His watch flashed a deep orange in the light, and Blake squinted.

The young cyng pushed off the pillar. He scanned the ballroom again, but the men who should have had his back were nowhere to be seen. Did Dominic take them? Was this his uncle's plan?

Blake's knees gave way, but he used the pillar for support. He could not recognise anyone. There was nobody here to help him. He was alone. Alone. Alone.

The boy's gaze fell to his lap. There was a hand next to him, paint beneath their nails. His eyes followed the seat belt cutting across a suit, to the paint staining their collar. Kyle Moreno Bowmen stared out the window, watching something that was not there, bathed in the dying light. Serene.

"Blake. Blake!" a voice shook him. "What's the plan?"

He blinked, stared at where Calvin held him by the lapels of his jacket. His first kin had wild eyes and blood on his suit.

What did he ask?

His father's lips moved again, twisting to his brother this time. Kyle kept staring out the window, giving curt answers in turn. What were they saying? There were muffled sounds, but the words were too distant. Like the boy was underwater.

"I don't know," Blake answered.

His first kin looked at him like he was someone else, then swore and pushed away.

"I saw Dominic leave just before shit blew up," Calvin said. "Some men went with him. I doubt he sided with Xavier, but he likely thought to disappear and see if he'd get lucky."

Blake nodded, ears ringing from gunfire.

"If we're outnumbered, the only thing we can do is team up with East and South," Calvin continued. "I'll look for South's cyng. Can't be too hard to find that beast of a guy. You go find Rhodes."

"Yeah," Blake mumbled and the two split ways.

Without looking back, Kyle kept talking, his reflection in the window lacking emotion. But those eyes... Although they shared the same eyes, Kyle always seemed to see something nobody else could.

At the sight of a gun, Blake ducked just in time to avoid the whizzing bullet above. Stupid cunt, he swore to himself. The moron likely did not notice who he was. Nobody would try to kill a cyng.

He came back up and lunged past the man just as he fired again, the pistol clicking empty. Blake smashed the hilt of his own gun into the man's face and grabbed the knife from his back pocket to slice. His attacker coughed, clutching their gushing neck before dropping to their knees, eyes wide. The cyng turned away, his guts twisting. Behind him, the gurgling cries got drowned out by the chaos all around. The crowd rushed and clogged the entrance, crushing anyone who fell until the chequered floor was slick with blood.

Blake was back to clinging to the pillar, covering his mouth with his arm. A bang went off too close, and a body fell beside him. He stumbled away from the corpse, nearly tripping on his first attacker before pressing himself to the wall and watching it all.

The boy spoke up, his words lost in the distance, and his brother turned to him. Those grey eyes... That kind smile... A symphony rose in the boy's chest, and nothing else in the world seemed to matter.

Blake forced himself to take a step forward, but an impact sent him stumbling back. He turned, knife raised, but stopped.

"Dude, I need a gun!" Lynch said.

Alarms replaced the fog in his head, and Blake pulled him back.

"No, get out of here, Lynch!"

The boy's eyebrows snapped together, his jaw tensing.

"Stop treating me like a kid!" he said, pushing Blake away. "You don't have to take care of me the whole time! Let me be useful."

Kyle's gaze latched onto something behind the boy. Blake twisted to look, his stomach sinking at the car racing next to them, at the guns pointed straight at them. In an eternity, in an instant, gunfire rippled too far, too close. His brother's arms wrapped around him.

Blake reached out to hold Lynch without thinking.

"Go. Hide," he ordered and pushed the kid away.

Turning, he ran through the mayhem. East. Calvin told him to find the East. And yet, his eyes weren't searching for a crooked-nosed pimp. Anything gold made his head turn and his heart drop.

He was not in love with Amber. He did not even like her. She was not his type, and he could barely stand the girl, but he would be damned if he let her die while they were not even. He was not going to owe a corpse. Not again.

A familiar buzz-cut came into view, and Blake rushed to his kin, grabbing their shoulder.

"You see Rhodes anywhere?" he asked.

Enrique turned, bloodied fists raised, but lowered them instantly. His eyes darted around them, and his face was a sickly colour.

"I haven't. I... I need to... Have you seen Jessy?"

The way his friend gripped his arm, Blake turned to scan the ballroom without question. Surely Jessica would be with—

Gold flashed in his vision.

But it was nothing like the boy imagined.

In the middle of the chaos, Amber was in a dance. Holding her own, she twirled and spun around opponents with the grace of a performer. Breaking the arm of a man, she kicked him away, her heel embedded in his leg. Barefoot now, she scowled and bent to rip a second slit into her dress. And then, this golden goddess reached for the gun strapped to her thigh before opening fire at anyone stupid enough to approach her.

The car spun, screeched— Weightless for a heartbeat, the boy lifted from his seat before hitting something hard. Up became down and then up again. The world tumbled round and round with nothing to anchor him but his brother's arms holding on tight.

A shoulder collided with him, and he stepped back as Enrique ran over to Jessy cowering behind Amber, hands holding her head. The same as when West got ambushed a year ago.

Blake had to end this. He twisted around, eyes peeled for a crooked-nosed moron. Instead, he found the devil. Atop the steps leading out, Xavier Jilten stood like a rock splitting a river of panicked guests.

Raising his gun, Blake took aim. They locked eyes, and Xavier grinned, making his way down the stairs with patient steps.

With too many people and not confident in his aim, he swore loudly before holstering his gun and bolting towards the Northern cyng.

The boy swung, his punch easily dodged and grabbed.

"You're a fucking coward!" Blake snarled. He swung again, silver glinting at the end of his grip. That too got caught, and he could do nothing but glare at Xavier's calm, feral smile. The asshole gripped hard before twisting Blake's arms in one quick motion. His limbs knotted, strained, and his body gave way to the pain. He lost his balance and fell jaw first to the floor, spitting blood.

"And you're but a child," Xavier said, sighing.

Blake winced, bearing pressure on his arms to get up, but a kick to the gut had him rolling instead, knocking an elbow on the floor. He came to a stop on his back. Xavier walked over, a polished shoe stepping onto the boy's chest and putting just enough pressure behind it to make breathing hard. He blinked up, his vision blurry.

The boy opened his eyes. It was so hard to breathe. He pushed himself up, glass cutting into his palms. The car was a complete wreck, littered with broken shards, glittering in the setting sun. He stared at that violent light when a hand reached for him.

Blake got pulled up and into a chest. He twisted back to see Calvin holding him, a gun pointed at the cyng of the North.

"Shoot me and watch your world burn," Xavier said, monotone.

"How about a duel?" Calvin asked.

Xavier snickered.

"You're no cyng."

"Yeah, I wasn't talking about myself," he said and flicked his head. Xavier turned around.

"You ready for a fight, Devil?" Owen called, knuckles cracking.

"Ha. Don't disappoint me now, boy," Xavier chaffed, and the two approached each other with sure steps.

Blake was pulled out of the car, broken glass cutting his clothes, his skin. Back on his feet, he stared up at Kyle. His brother checked him over and, once satisfied, embraced him. But the danger was far from done.

Calvin pulled his cyng to the side, turning to check on him. Other than a wounded ego, Blake was fine, and his first kin breathed easier.

"Don't get baited. He could kill you," Calvin said, then swept an eye around them. "I couldn't find South's cyng. He likely took off the moment guns got pulled out. Ran into East, however."

"Thanks, Cal. I don't know what's..." Blake trailed off when a girl in black ran past him.

Camila charged straight towards Amber, who had her back turned. The cyng shouted a warning, but it got drowned out, and the girl was tackled. Her gun slid across the floor, and she twisted to get out from under Camila, kicking her in the stomach.

"You! I wanted to be friends!" she yelled, flipping onto her feet.

"You're just fake," Camila said as she got up on her own time. She reached for her heels and retrieved a knife from each.

"Fake?" Amber asked like a truce. Seeing those knives, her fists raised. "I guess there's no point in thinking what could've been."

"My brother taught me to fight."

"And I'll teach you some damn manners."

They attacked.

Blake gave Camila credit for holding her own at one point, but there was a lethal intensity behind Amber's movements. He knew it all too well. More than once, the cyng had lost himself in that darkness. That comforting abyss where you did not need to think.

He looked down at the ruined car and froze. His father lay out the window. Blood dripped from the shattered windshield. Blake dropped and tried heaving his father up, warm blood sticking to him. Bleak grey eyes stared up without a glint of light in them.

There was nothing in Amber's eyes as she fought. She kicked Camila, and the girl spat blood, staggering but still standing. She rushed forward, knife in hand and aiming to jab an eye out. Amber dodged, grabbing Camila's wrist and using the momentum of that attack to plunge the knife into her leg. Camila screamed, but Amber was not done. She spun and landed a backfist across her cheek, spun again, and a heel cracked her ribs. Camila hunched over at the perfect angle for Amber to send an uppercut.

The dark-haired girl fell to the floor, out cold.

She won! Blake thought. Amber won, but... why is she...

Amber's eyes were dead as she walked over to her fallen gun, picked it up, and pointed it straight at the unconscious girl.

Blake's heart dropped. He whirled around to look for help.

Kyle pulled him away from his father, yelling out words that could not reach. Blake glanced over the wrecked car. On the other side of the road stood the people responsible. The East. A boy with bronze hair and unsure eyes stared back, shaky hands holding a gun. Aimed and ready.

Rhodes was still fighting Xavier. Barely. He could not stop an incoming punch and staggered back, holding his waist. Panting, the Eastern cyng looked over at Amber, gun pointed at Camila. He spared no more than a glance before continuing his fight.

Blake could not believe it, but he should have. Rhodes did not care whether Amber stained her soul. How could he? With a family waiting at home, the cyng of the East would never understand. But Blake knew. He knew if she pulled that trigger, she would be lost.

Still injured, Blake used the last of his strength to force a step forward. That was all he got good at these last three years.

"What are you doing?" Calvin asked.

The cyng responded with another step, then a third, moving forward until he was jogging, running, sprinting.

Unable to move from the pointing gun, a tackle from Kyle was all that saved the boy from the shot. He landed on his shoulder so hard he thought it popped and sobbed in his brother's arms.

Blake tackled Amber just as she fired. They landed on the floor, and he held her. Held her like he was held all that time ago. She struggled, but he did not let go, letting his grip on her say everything that words could not. When she stilled, the cyng pulled back, and the wires around his heart loosened.

Amber looked up at him with clear, horrified eyes.

"What did I do..." she whispered.

Blake turned to look behind them. Camila was on the floor. No gaping wounds. No blood. Gracias a Dios. Just as a weight lifted, a warm trickle ran down his arm.

"You didn't kill anyone," he reassured her.

"I wanted to..." she whispered.

"I won't let you," he promised, unsure why.

Because she was too good? Too pure? No. Because not a day passed where he did not wish someone had done it for him.

He got to his feet, but when he wanted to help Amber up, his arm struggled to move. He used his other, and she got up just as he removed his jacket.

"You're..." Amber stepped back.

"It's fine," Blake said. "I'll live."

His shirt was stained red at his bicep, and the blood trickled down his arm, spilling over his bracelet and dripping to the floor.

"Help me rip that jacket for a rag," he asked.

Amber snatched and tore the sleeves right off, her grip trembling as she tied it around his wound. Her eyes stayed down.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Those words sounded so familiar to his own.

"Hey, it's going to be okay." He brought her chin up and looked her in the eye. "You're still here. You're still you."

She nodded up at him, blinking away the gloss in her eye and checking around them with more focus this time.

They were trapped, hunched behind the car with nowhere to go. Their men were dying. Blood soaked the road. Blake stared up at the welcome sign to Tygerwel just as stray bullets ripped right through it. It was over.

All around them, violence thrived. Guns have died down for the most part while fist and knife fights ensued. But the North outnumbered them all. The night was a lost cause.

A painful cry tore over the chaos. Blake and Amber turned towards it. There, on the other side of the ballroom, was Jessy, holding Enrique in her arms. Drenched in blood.

"Stay with me!" Jessica yelled, tears running down her face.

"No. Stop this," Amber whispered, staggering towards the scene.

Blake grabbed her shoulder with his good arm.

"We need to get everyone out."

She nodded once, but her focus stayed on Jessica.

"The East and West are just a couple of boys trying to play in a game for grown-ups," a voice said over the chaos.

Everyone turned their heads towards the menacing presence at the end of the ballroom. Standing atop the stairs where the orchestra once were, above the buffet table and pyramid of champagne, was Xavier Jilten. Watching it all. Blake spun to where he left Rhodes to deal with the devil and winced. The cyng of the East was a bloodied mess on the floor, ragged breaths his only sign of life.

"Bastard!" Amber shouted, taking a step forward.

Xavier sent her a wink.

"I'll deal with you later."

"No!" she exclaimed. "I have had it with people treating me like a damn piece in their game."

"Finally found your spine, I see," the devil commented.

Blake's brother pulled him back up and pointed to a car not too far away. Two of their men were protecting it. He looked back at Kyle, and they shared a nod. They had one chance to escape.

"You," Amber pointed a finger at Xavier. "You are responsible for the attack on Sterling! The North's been behind it all this time!"

Blake could not tell if he wanted to yell at the girl to shut up or commend her for having the biggest pair of balls there. Either way, the statement was bold, even for her. He still suspected the East.

"Careful with your words now. People have died for much less," Xavier warned, saying what everyone else was thinking.

"I'm not afraid of dying for what I stand by," she said.

"Oh, my dear, there are things much worse than death. Ask poor Owen Rhodes how his father is coping with that wheelchair."

"My parents," Amber insisted. "Melissa and Robert Marigold. Tell me what you did to them. I want to hear it in your own words."

Xavier's eyes lit up as he pulled a pistol from his jacket.

"I can't tell you what I did, but I can tell you what I didn't do," he said, loading his gun patiently. "That day you cowered under your mother's bed. That day, I didn't get to finish my business with your family." His smile was nothing short of cruel. "Let me fix that."

Amber fell to her knees, all the tension in her body gone.

"It was you," she whispered, her face blank.

"Pathetic. You're still under that bed, aren't you?" Xavier asked. He raised his gun, pointing it straight at her. "We have no need for a scared little girl here. It's time you grow up."

A chill, a fever, broke across Blake at the sight of that loaded pistol pointed at her.

The Bowmen brothers bolted for that car. Even as gunshots fired at them, they sprinted with everything they had. And when Blake faltered, Kyle grabbed his collar and threw him ahead.

Blake's blood rushed so fast that he was moving before he knew it, leaping towards Amber. To shield or to dodge. It did not matter.

The bang went off, and Blake let out a desperate cry before a shatter rang through his ears. He slammed into the girl hard enough for them to slide across the floor, his shoulder taking the brunt.

The boy crashed into the car, and the wind left him. His brother was there a second later, and they took cover behind the vehicle. One of the men defending them stayed outside to keep the attackers at bay, while the other got in the driver's seat. Blake stayed low as he crawled inside, his brother at the door.

His heart hammered as he clung to Amber. She struggled against him until she freed herself, and they stared at each other.

"What did you do?" she asked.

Blake waited for the pain. For his fate. But when nothing came, horror coiled around his heart. Slowly, he looked up.

Where a pyramid of champagne stood, just seconds ago, lay shards upon shards of broken glass, fizzing liquid trickling down the table and spilling onto the floor. Two figures on top of that mess started moving. The first was Xavier, who dragged himself up and staggered back, slumping down onto the steps. The second had a full head of curls and an absurd grin.

"I did something useful," Lynch announced.

"Yes, you did, you moron," Blake said.

Amber had a smile, nothing short of radiant. The two of them got up and headed towards the kid. Then stopped.

Lynch's grin faltered.

Before Kyle could get in the car with Blake, he paused. The boy turned to look. They were so close to escaping. His brother reached below his shirt just as the sun sunk beneath the mountains in the distance. And when he pulled back, his hand was covered in blood.

Lynch reached for the back of his head, and as he brought his hand back, it was soaked in blood.

"I expected that," Kyle said, dropping to his knees. He offered Blake a smile, holding onto the door.

"I... I wasn't expecting that," Lynch said before his knees gave way and he lowered to the floor.

"It's up to you now. Make me proud, Little Brother," he said and slammed the door shut just as the car started speeding away.

Blake ran to Lynch, bolted to close the distance, but feeling further away with each desperate step.

The boy banged on the window, begging the driver to turn back as he watched his brother grow distant. A man approached Kyle, aiming a gun at his head, and a bang tore through the world.

Lynch collapsed in his arms, staring up at him with a faint breath.

Blake screamed.

He screamed.

***