The next morning, Ramesses woke up feeling refreshed and devoured a meal left in his room. When the guards Prince Cyrillus assigned to shadow him didn't try to stop him, Ramesses ventured out of his assigned bedchamber and explored Prince Cyrillus' living quarters. Escape was at the forefront of his thoughts, but he didn't act on the unwise impulse since the collar was still around his throat and dozens of soldiers patrol the halls every few minutes.
Nothing interested him until he found the prince's personal combat field.
Arranged in rows of twelve, one hundred forty-four porcelain vases stood in the middle of several towering weapon racks. Twenty years wasn't enough to dilute the sweep of homesickness that Ramses thought he'd left behind. …show more content…
The Curse of Zephyr killed him when he killed the immortal prophet," said Prince Cyrillus.
"No, his brother killed him," said Ramesses. Tried to, anyway.
A cramp seized his stomach, causing it to wrench and the pain vibrated through his body before it settled like a clamp around his heart. Throwing all his strength behind one thrust, Ramesses knocked Prince Cyrillus back and the prince kicked over a porcelain vase in his attempt to catch his balance. They both landed on the ground at the same time. Completely out of breath, Ramesses doubled over his sword and said, "You win."
"What happened?" asked Prince Cyrillus. Glistening with sweat and similarly out of breath, he walked over and crouched next to Ramesses. "I heard that demons need blood. Is he.. not feeding you?"
"Starvation won't kill me," said Ramesses.
To which Prince Cyrillus asked, "Is it true that a demon's bite heats a man's blood until lava runs in his veins?"
"Want to try?" asked Ramesses. Blood left the same aftertaste as the slime of a raw eel and feeding on blood was an act reserved for the lowest class of demons. Still, Prince Cyrillus looked horrified by the proposal and Ramesses had to bare his fangs and add, "By the time you're bitten for the tenth time, it's no stronger than a potent
Nothing interested him until he found the prince's personal combat field.
Arranged in rows of twelve, one hundred forty-four porcelain vases stood in the middle of several towering weapon racks. Twenty years wasn't enough to dilute the sweep of homesickness that Ramses thought he'd left behind. …show more content…
The Curse of Zephyr killed him when he killed the immortal prophet," said Prince Cyrillus.
"No, his brother killed him," said Ramesses. Tried to, anyway.
A cramp seized his stomach, causing it to wrench and the pain vibrated through his body before it settled like a clamp around his heart. Throwing all his strength behind one thrust, Ramesses knocked Prince Cyrillus back and the prince kicked over a porcelain vase in his attempt to catch his balance. They both landed on the ground at the same time. Completely out of breath, Ramesses doubled over his sword and said, "You win."
"What happened?" asked Prince Cyrillus. Glistening with sweat and similarly out of breath, he walked over and crouched next to Ramesses. "I heard that demons need blood. Is he.. not feeding you?"
"Starvation won't kill me," said Ramesses.
To which Prince Cyrillus asked, "Is it true that a demon's bite heats a man's blood until lava runs in his veins?"
"Want to try?" asked Ramesses. Blood left the same aftertaste as the slime of a raw eel and feeding on blood was an act reserved for the lowest class of demons. Still, Prince Cyrillus looked horrified by the proposal and Ramesses had to bare his fangs and add, "By the time you're bitten for the tenth time, it's no stronger than a potent