Vampire Court: White Rook: Vampire Court, #3

By Ingrid Seymour

Living in the White Court is not easy, and Bianca must watch her back at every turn.

 

The risk of being discovered as a Trove is real and becoming a blood slave is a constant threat.

 

She must survive the intrigue if she is to get her revenge, but the machinations of the White Court prove too entangled for her naive approach. Everyone is playing their own game, and it will take more than her hard work and sacrifice to climb the ranks. But is she ready to be as ruthless as it takes?

 

A vampire tale like no other.

 

If you love fantasy with spellbinding world-building, this COMPLETE series is for you. The action, romance, and intrigue will sweep you off your feet and leave you wanting more.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ingrid Seymour
• Release date: Oct 12, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201057169

Ingrid Seymour

Ingrid Seymour is a USA Today Bestselling author. When she's not writing books, she spends her time cooking exotic recipes, hanging out with her family and working out. She writes young adult and new adult fiction in a variety of genres, including Sci-Fi, urban fantasy, romance, paranormal and horror. Her favorite outings involve a trip to the library or bookstore where she immediately gravitates toward the YA section. She's an avid reader and fangirl of many amazing books. She is a dreamer and a fighter who believes perseverance and hard work can make dreams come true. She lives in Birmingham, AL with her husband, two kids, and a cat named Ossie.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

The sword would be the weapon for my challenge against Alben.

He had pulled out a pawn piece from the Challenge Vessel and now stood across from me, chin held high, a grateful look in his eyes.

Breen had threatened to start a rumor about Alben’s sister. She’d told him that if he didn’t convince me to challenge him, she would whisper to Rook Daciana that Alben’s little sister was a Trove.

And, when everything was said and done, it wouldn’t matter that it was a lie because if his tender sister was delivered to the Queen, her fate would be the same whether or not she was a Trove. Our monarchs weren’t known for their mercy.

So I’d had no choice but to challenge Alben, even without his asking. I couldn’t stand the thought of a child, any child, in the Queen’s hands.

I hadn’t planned to do it so quickly after my challenge with Skender, and I certainly wouldn’t have done it with an injured leg. It hurt badly. Just an hour ago it had been crushed between my mare and Skender’s horse.

But what other choice did I have? The challenge was inevitable, essential to my plans. I only wished I hadn’t been injured—my thigh was deeply bruised and my knee was stiff.

My limp would make a win against Alben seem less convincing.

Because I would win. He would let me. We had arranged it a week ago.

Now, Knight Kelsus stepped into the checkerboard fighting area. He was present this time, still looking wary about my decision to challenge Alben so soon.

After Vinna told me about Breen’s threat, I had gone straight to Knight Kelsus to issue my challenge against his Fourth Pawn. He’d just finished hearing everyone’s account of what had happened during my race against Skender, how the brute had tried to muscle me out of the race by striking my horse in the face with his crop. And in his wisdom, Knight Kelsus had decided that I was the fair winner, that there’d been no foul play from my part.

And then, I’d limped into his office issuing a new challenge.

Why are you doing this, Challenger Flagfall? he had asked from behind his desk, narrowing his eyes at me, his many braids perfectly held back away from his face by a leather thong. It’s unnecessary.

I’m feeling lucky, I said, staring at the White Court’s coat of arms on the wall behind him. While, at my back, my hands twisted together, slick with sweat.

You’re injured, he said, gesturing toward my leg. It’s not a smart decision.

As I stood there, I wanted to know what he was thinking. Why did he care if I issued a challenge now? If it wasn’t the most optimal time? Was he worried about me? Or did he suspect something else was afoot?

As much as my logical mind told me that it was the latter, my heart told me otherwise. Knight Kelsus did seem like a nice man, even if he’d had two doses of vampire blood—one when he became a Rook, and one when he gained his current rank. Even if his eyes shone red under a certain light and his dark skin—which should have been rich and warm—had a sickly tone to it.

But I didn’t argue with him or try to convince him I was making the right decision. There would have been no point in that. Instead, I’d just stood there, staring at the wall, reading the words on the coat of arms over and over.

Semper Lumen. Semper Lumen. Semper Lumen.

They had it all wrong. There was no light in this place.

EVERYONE FROM THE FIRST Quadrant was present for the challenge. Knight Ferko, The Decapitator, sat next to his Rook and Pawns on the right side of the hall. She wore the same stern, bored expression she always did. I figured she’d come because Knight Kelsus had. Maybe there was some unspoken rule about that. Certainly, she wasn’t here to assess the skill of possible future contenders. Ferko was nothing but certain that no one below her rank could defeat her. As for my Quadrant, it was the same. All four Pawns and Rook Daciana were here.

Seeing all these attendants, anyone would have thought this was a challenge for First Pawn, at least. It seemed the unusual circumstances had caused some additional interest.

Knight Kelsus bowed slightly, then spoke in a loud, clear voice. Today, Challenger Bianca Flagfall faces Fourth Pawn Alben Sternglade. If Flagfall defeats Sternglade, she will become Fourth Pawn, while Sternglade will suffer whatever fate the new Fourth Pawn decides for him.

Alben bowed, a hand on the hilt of his sword. I did the same, and even that small movement made my leg hurt. My knee felt terribly uncomfortable, my white pants tight around it. I hadn’t looked at it yet, but I suspected it wouldn’t be pretty. My thigh hurt, too. It felt tender, a sign that, later, I would develop a nice, multicolored bruise the size of Acedrex.

Alben’s sword sang as he pulled it out of its metal scabbard. Heart in my throat, I pulled mine out, too. We saluted each other the way we always did during our morning practices, holding the swords close to our faces, their tips pointing straight up.

Then, he charged, crouching low, his right foot leading, his left hand held up behind him, while his right wielded the sword, immediately thrusting toward my middle.

I barely had time to parry the strike and step aside. Pain like hot fire lanced through my knee as I bent it into fighting position and continued parrying Alben’s fast attacks.

His sword was a blur as he thrust right and left, up and down, while I clenched my teeth against the pain and did my best to block him.

My heart pounded, igniting my blood, sending tingling energy into my limbs. The pain was still there, but it became a bit easier to ignore.

We have to make it look convincing, Alben had said when I presented him with my proposal to let me win when the time came to challenge him. If we don’t, we’ll both end up very dead.