Chapter 1 #2
I was tempted to reveal Brey’s secret—to tell him that my preening peacock of a husband had likely taken care of many more problems than he had. Actual problems. Not mere fools who owed him or his business partners a few gold coins they didn’t need.
But Brey, as if wishing to enrage my father more, adjusted the frilled sleeve of his frothy crimson shirt and leaped onto the shell-lined dais. “Careful, Aphylus.” He dropped onto his throne. “Not only am I prettier than you, but my fangs are sharper.”
My father glowered at Brey as if pondering our need for a king.
Yet despite his attempts to appear useless and uncaring, Brey’s existence alone intimidated potential foes. And, apparently, those were multiplying.
A strand of black hair fell across his cheek. He left it there as he stared down at my father. “If we’re quite done squabbling…” Murder danced in his emerald eyes. “Let us get to the reason for this impromptu visit so that it can end.”
“You know precisely why I suffer the presence of you both. It’s now been three moons since your ceremony.” My father lifted his bearded chin. “And you still have not tended to the damned wards.”
The ensuing silence stretched on long enough to break as we all remained still and staring. My husband and I were well aware of what we must do.
We’d simply been steadfastly ignoring it.
My father surrendered first. “Two ships,” he said. “This past fortnight alone has seen two ships docking in our city’s harbor. A harbor they should not have been able to see, let alone reach.”
I scoffed. “Their curiosity should hardly come as a surprise.” Many ships had visited these past moons. “Besides, we could do with the blood.”
Brey pressed his lips together.
“We cannot take any humans until the isle is veiled again.” Exasperated, my father squeezed each word between his teeth.
“More humans will come looking for their missing ships, then more will come looking for those missing ships. Meanwhile, word will spread across the mainlands faster than divine fire.”
“Yes, but we will be veiled.” I pursed my lips, then waved my hand. “Eventually.” Smiling, I said, “Then all will be well.”
My father gave me a look that usually came right before ordering some of his men to take me into the woods and drop me into the cellar. But he only said, “You are being intentionally obtuse when you know what’s at stake.”
“I know exactly what’s at stake.” I raised my chin because despite my punishing circumstances, he could never punish me again. “Your rulers. Feeding the wards is dangerous,” I said. “This isle could lose us, and before we’ve made an heir.”
“A risk we must take,” he replied flatly.
“We?” drawled Brey. “From where I’m sitting, your daughter and I are the only ones who will be taking any risk.”
Assessing the king’s slouched state, my father arched a brow. “From where I’m standing, it seems you’re doing the same thing you’ve been doing since you took my gold and my daughter moons ago.” His upper lip curled. “A whole lot of nothing.”
Brey smirked. “Now, that’s not entirely true, Aphylus.”
My stomach twisted.
My father looked up at the grimy glass panes in the ceiling, undoubtedly silently pleading for patience from the goddess. Exhaling roughly, he lowered his head. “Either you don’t grasp the severity of our situation or you’re choosing not to.”
Neither of us responded to that. But we did glance at each other.
“You think me an opportunist, and you’re right.
But I cannot conduct business when this isle is falling into chaos.
I made this agreement for a reason. I gave you my daughter to bond to for a reason.
” He narrowed his eyes at Brey. “To see those wards fed and this isle restored to its former and hidden glory.”
Perhaps I should have felt guilty for failing to care. Ashamed, even.
I felt nothing but quiet resentment as I stared at Aphylus Blueburn. I’d never agreed to any of this. To fix problems I hadn’t made and satiate his thirst for power.
“Soon, the made will swarm the palace gates like crows, eager to pick your flesh from your bones.” My father huffed. “And that’s if curious humans haven’t invaded with their armies to rid this isle of vampires and take Vexaya’s offerings for themselves.”
Brey slouched even more, however that was possible when he was already at risk of sliding from his throne to the dais. “Things have been rather dull of late.” His smile was feline. “So I’d love to see them try.”
My father ignored that. “You two are making a mockery of this arrangement and our realm.” His emerald gaze scoured us both. “I don’t care what you do with the former, but you will fix this crumbling isle, or I’ll take it and your heads.”
I was no stranger to my father’s harsh words.
But Brey tensed. “A threat, Aphylus?” He chuckled. “Allow a king a lick of liquor before he’s forced to spill blood in his ghastly throne room.”
It was my turn to tense.
Every guard shifted.
“A promise, King.” My father gave him another derisive assessment. “But I am not without mercy. Because I doubt you’ve ever truly used your brain, you may have three weeks to complete feeding the wards.”
Fear finally entered my heart, and it swam through my bloodstream like a winter wind. “You cannot be serious.”
“Three weeks for three wards is generous. More than enough time for the most egotistical king and queen this isle has ever seen, and considering how hopeless his father was…” After one last scathing look at my husband, my father turned for the arched exit. “That ought to say something.”
It certainly did say something.
Except he didn’t know what Brey did in the trembling shadows of dusk and dawn. All he’d done to end up slouched on that throne.
But Brey merely watched my father’s guards leave the throne room in a rigid line of ash and midnight. When his eyes narrowed and his clean-shaven jaw clenched, I knew he’d spotted him—Maxus—and I gazed down at the tiles beneath the dais.
“Well,” Brey said. “He excels at ruining evenings.” He pushed up from his throne. “I fear I must return to bed so that I might start this horrendous night anew.”
A promise, my father had said.
“Brey, I think we need to discuss this.”
It was now clear that my father’s previous visit two moons ago had been a reminder.
This one had been a final warning.
“We don’t.” He leaped down from the dais. “So run along to your captain before I decide to make this evening better by dismembering him in front of you.”
The ache I’d carried for a short eternity flared.
But rather than stay silent and wounded, I chose malice. “You know what?” I laughed, low and airily. “Maybe I will.”
Brey halted beneath the vine-covered arch. His fingers curled into his hands.
My chest rose and fell with increased breaths as hope began to inflate my heart. Hope that he’d turn and cross the throne room to show me just how enraged the mere thought of Maxus made him. Hope that he’d tell me not to go near him.
But he walked on.
And that hope burst into punishing flames.