Shadow's Heart

Chapter 1

One

Outside of New Orleans

Mina had once sneaked a peek at explicit illustrations of satyrs and concluded their anatomy must be exaggerated.

Not so!

As those creatures chased laughing nymphs through the forest, their pendulous penises bobbed along like jaunty walking sticks.

Once Mina caught her mortified breath, she turned to King Lothaire, who stood within her camouflaging mist. “Uncle, th-this is obscene!” She blushed furiously.

“You’ve never seen a forest lech at full tilt?” He gazed at them with amusement, the fiery red of his eyes a striking contrast to his pale skin and light-blond hair. “The Lore teems with them.”

“No, I haven’t. Not in real life, anyway,” she hastily added to avoid the lie. A handful of other types of Loreans made their home in the vampiric kingdom of Dacia, but not a forest lech . “I’ve never seen most of this outside of a book.”

When Lothaire had first teleported her to the edge of this forest, she’d gazed up at the wide-open sky. “Stars,” she’d whispered in awe.

For all her life, Dacia’s cavern ceiling—the stone sky—had obscured her vision of them. She’d also encountered woods for the first time and a breeze. As it caressed her face, unfamiliar scents had teased her senses and tree limbs had danced, their tiny green sails catching the wind.

Everything was as wondrous as she’d dreamed.

Well, except for the satyr penises.

“I’m surprised you haven’t sneaked outside of the kingdom before,” Lothaire said, his tone making it seem as if everyone had.

Everyone but her. “Not once.” No matter how much she’d longed to.

“You’ve been so sheltered it borders on criminal.” Mina’s family all equated sheltered with safe . “Is it any wonder that you’re shy? Your brother and uncles have turned you into a potential killing machine—nigh unbeatable in the training yard—who all but faints at the odd curse word or stray satyr erection.”

She . . . didn’t disagree. While her skill with a sword was her secret pride, shyness was her not-so-secret shame.

More nymphs gamboled by, nearly running through her mist. Within this cloud, she and Lothaire were as indistinct as air, just as unseen, and their voices unheard.

The half-dressed nymphs melded into trees, hiding from the lusty satyrs. In her studies, Mina had read about those female immortals. They were said to take lovers indiscriminately and live only for revelry and . . . and orgies!

Mina blushed more, burning through her body’s store of blood. “Uncle, where have you taken me? What is my mission?” For months, he’d hinted about sending her into the mortal realm for an important assignment, something to do with the nymphs.

Was Dacian security at risk? Perhaps one of them had garnered secrets Lothaire wanted neutralized.

“We’re near the Tree of Delight, outside of New Orleans. It’s a supernaturally gigantic tree that houses droves of Dryads—tree nymphs. You will observe and learn from them.”

“Learn? From nymphs, Uncle?” Lothaire was her distant relation, but she called him uncle out of kinship and considered him an erratic loved one. She dared to ask him, “Am I here because the shock of a bashful female will amuse you?”

“Likely.” His irises gleamed in the night like a full-blooded Horde vampire’s. Though Dacian law forbade drinking from the flesh, Lothaire had lived among the Horde and delighted in such a taboo. He’d harvested his victims’ memories until his eyes had turned red and he teetered on the tipping point of total madness. “Do not leave your post until I summon you. That is an order from your king,” he said, his voice ringing with finality.

“B-but if I can’t trace back each day, how will I get blood?” In Dacia, fountains of it bubbled, for all to take their fill.

“I’ve made arrangements with Loa the Commercenary. Her emporium is near the French Quarter, which you can locate by following the sound of mortal merriment and the scent of intoxicants. She’s agreed to put a jug on her back porch for any thirsty Dacians who might wander along.”

Like a stray cat? The humiliation! Mina’s first trip to the mortal world, dreamed about for so long, was a mere joke to the callous Lothaire. Dacia’s newly installed regent had been full of dark surprises.

“Return to the kingdom only if an emergency arises,” he said. “If you don’t want to disgrace yourself thusly, and you’re still in trouble, go to Loa for help.”

“M-maybe we should rethink this plan. After all, Mirceo forbade me to leave.” Her brother had informed her, Mark my words, Kosmina Daciano, you will not be leaving this kingdom for centuries to come. Spoken with all the breathtaking confidence of a Dacian prince.

Yet he was away, pursuing his mate, a death demon named Caspion who’d proved reluctant to settle down with a rake like Mirceo. Though her brother could be gone for weeks, she’d written him a missive to smooth things over just in case. But the fact remained . . . “If he discovers I’m gone, he will be livid.”

“So?”

So.

Such a simple word. Mina had expressed worries, and Lothaire had circumvented them—with two little letters and attitude.

Then she frowned. “Why cast me adrift here?” She’d never been near a boat, but she liked nautical references. “Why does this matter to you?”

“Because you’re so socially inept that seeing you in my court pains me.”

As his words reverberated through her, blood tears threatened. “Oh.”

A natural-born vampire like Lothaire couldn’t lie without the rána burning his throat; he’d shown no discomfort.

I pain him. Her pride stung with its own pain because she could see his point.

Mina’s confidence was forever at odds with her shyness, so much so that she’d settled into an unshakable awkwardness . And despite all the training her brother and uncles had provided in combat and scholastics, none of them had helped her grow into vampire womanhood.

“I see.” She stifled her hurt, wondering for the millionth time why she never lacked boldness in the training yard—only everywhere else. “My apologies for your discomfort.” Do I make others feel the same? Do Dacian subjects laugh behind my back?

Lothaire added, “I’m also sending you away because I’ve seen where your heart has landed. Your infatuation is not acceptable.”

She gasped. “You know?” She called her crush the Ideal because he would be perfect for her. Or nearly so.

Broad shoulders. Ruffled blond hair. Clear blue eyes.

Lothaire arched his brows. “Of course I know. Dacians are keen observers, are we not? You blush and stammer whenever Kristoff so much as gazes in your direction.”

“I-I do that with almost everyone, especially those not related to me!” Kristoff the Gravewalker was the half brother of Lothaire, but he shared no blood with Mina.

“He’s not for you. N?x has already foretold his Bride, and you didn’t make his heart beat.”

Yet. And N?x lied about all sorts of things.

“Besides, Kristoff is likely soon to be dead.” Mina knew Lothaire debated killing him for political reasons. For now, Lothaire’s queen had held her mate in check. “By the time you’re finished with the nymphs, you’ll be wiser and emboldened—and you won’t think he’s good enough for you.”

Doubtful! “Uncle, p-please! Another mission would better suit me. Any mission.”

Ignoring her, he strode deeper into the forest, and she had no choice but to follow. In the distance, she spied a giant oak tree towering hundreds of feet in the air, with windows and balconies throughout the trunk. String lanterns lit the enormous branches. Loreans thronged it.

As the sounds of the crowd grew louder, Mina’s hand found her sword out of habit. This weapon had been handed down by her mother, who’d inherited it from her own.

“Ah-ah. No engagement. Only observation.” Lothaire eyed her. “Why are you not falling over yourself for this opportunity? Your mist will protect you from attackers and the vampire plague, and you’ll have blood whenever you need it. You would have to try to fuck this up.”

“Language, Uncle!” Her tone was pleading. “And what about the sun?”

He blinked. “Oh. That. Though you are abysmally young, your mist should protect you.”

Should? She’d trained with her mist since she was a vampling, but she couldn’t maintain it indefinitely.

“Do a good job, learn the Lore, and perhaps I will decree you Dacia’s first ambassador to this otherlanders’ realm once I open up the kingdom.”

What an honor that would be! “Do you really mean it?”

“No.”

Crestfallen, she said, “Mirceo and my uncles believe you are cruel. I’ve defended you, saying you were misunderstood.” She gazed up at him. “Who was right?”

He grinned, flashing fangs. “All of you were.”

Movement drew her attention. A trio of satyrs had begun grinding against a trio of oaks. “Th-this is . . . is tree fornication!”

“Aren’t they inventive little perverts?” He chuckled as if charmed. “They’re always up for a Lore-gy. Puns intended.”

Then she realized the nymphs had become one with the trees, fading just below the surface of the trunks to allow the satyrs to mate them like this.

Such a place is not for me. Mina gaped in blushing bewilderment, her heart racing. Once she’d recovered speech, she said, “I-I was hasty to leave Dacia. Logic says I will enjoy only a poor outcome in this realm.”

Of course Lothaire heard her thundering heart. Just before he abandoned her, he said, “You fear this world? You’re a Daciano, girl. All the worlds should fear you.”

And then she was alone.

Fine sentiment, she mused as the nymphs and satyrs finished with a crescendo that shook acorns from the branches.

Scandalized, Mina hastened away toward the Tree of Delight, her eyes going even wider at the scenes there. A menagerie of species partook in raw debauchery.

Yes, a fine sentiment, Lothaire. But how could Mina maintain her protective mist if she fainted from embarrassment?

She’d just had that thought when she beheld her first centaur at “full tilt,” and the satyr appendages became a distant memory. . . .