Chapter 10
R asimir’s private dining room was as impressive as the rest of the Drakhold. Lorcan and I dined alone with him, our chairs flanking his seat at the table’s head. Servants brought out the second course.
A wall of windows allowed evening light to flood the room, purple twilight spilling over the long, polished table and chairs covered in plush red velvet.
A fire crackled in the hearth. An ornate carpet stretched in front of the blaze.
More gold sparkled on the table—gold plates, gold cups, gold cutlery.
Even the salt cellar was gold, Rasimir’s serpent wrapping around the base.
The table, large enough to seat fifty, groaned with food. Servants streamed in and out, exchanging soup bowls for platters of roasted meat, steaming pies with butter-glazed crusts, and bowls of vegetables spiced with saffron and ginger.
“Thank you,” I murmured as a large man with shaggy blond hair placed a plate of turnips in front of me. At least I thought they were turnips. Golden-white, they sat atop a thick, golden sauce speckled with greenery.
The man nodded and then moved away. As he headed for the door, a scorpion tail waved from a split in the back of his trousers.
Vander appeared in the doorway. Dressed in the Drakhold’s black and crimson, he nodded to several passing servants before taking up his post just inside the door. His russet hair waved back from his forehead, the ends curling slightly around his ears as if he’d washed it and let it air-dry.
His silver eyes flicked to mine.
Jerking my head down, I grabbed a fork and speared a maybe-turnip. The specks of green were probably basil. Did they have basil in Nocta? The land was one with Ghedda before the elves created the Feyline. Then again, maybe magic had affected the herbs. It was the sort of thing Mama would know.
I pushed the turnip through a puddle of golden sauce. The merman’s limp body flashed in my head, a widening pool of blood spreading beneath him. Bile burned my throat, and I swallowed convulsively as I set down my fork and reached for my water goblet.
“Blood-wine for the princess,” Rasimir said. As I froze, a servant swooped in and plucked the water from the table. A second servant took her place and topped off my wineglass.
Rasimir raised his own glass in a toast. “Lorcan had good things to say about your progress this afternoon. You make all of Nocta proud.”
I looked at Lorcan, who sat directly across from me. He’d changed after the waterfall, abandoning his black leather for a coat stitched with silver thread. He dabbed his mouth with a cloth napkin, then leaned back in his chair.
“Yes, Majesty. The princess managed to siphon gills and clan markings from the merman. I believe she would have been able to breathe underwater for a time had she attempted it.”
Rasimir sipped his wine. His fangs showed as he smiled at me. “Something to try next time.”
Not if I could help it. But I couldn’t, at least not yet. I couldn’t refuse him, either, so I pasted what I hoped was a deferential expression on my face.
“Yes, Father.”
“And how long did the gills persist?”
Foreboding slid through me. His smile hadn’t faltered, but something about it was suddenly sharper.
The servants had left the dining room. Across the table, Lorcan watched me with his usual detachment. I didn’t dare look at Vander, but his presence was a shadow at the edge of my vision.
“About an hour,” I said. “The markings disappeared after a few minutes.” My tears had lasted a lot longer.
“You’ll do better next time.”
Or else . The threat stretched between us, tethered by Rasimir’s needle-sharp smile and the knot of fear in my chest.
“Yes,” I rasped. Was this what Mama had endured? Threats wrapped in smiles? Perhaps that explained why she’d kept Rasimir’s identity from me. She hadn’t wanted me to know I was sired by a being so cruel and heartless.
He didn’t hurt me , her voice said in my memory. I did what I had to do…
And now I had a similar choice to make. My father wanted me to follow in his footsteps. If I wanted to live, I had to kill.
Rasimir placed his napkin beside his plate.
“You’ll have plenty of opportunities to hone your skills, Corinthe.
For now, however, a different kind of duty demands attention.
” He lowered his voice, his tone conspiratorial.
“As a royal, you’ll find duty always calls.
Even during dinner.” He looked toward the doorway. “Captain, please fetch our guest.”
My pulse quickened as Vander turned and disappeared through the doorway. Silence filled the dining room, broken only by the snapping fire. Lorcan didn’t move. Rasimir looked from the doorway to me, an air of anticipation around him.
I curled my fingers around the arm of my chair. What kind of “guest” was Vander fetching? Not Mama. It couldn’t be Mama. The knot in my chest thickened. If Rasimir had my mother…
No. I wouldn’t even consider it.
Vander entered, one hand clamped tightly around Duncan Bagley’s arm.
Duncan’s clothing was rumpled and dirty, his cornstalk-colored hair disheveled.
A bruise darkened his jaw, and his bottom lip was split.
He held a bandaged hand against his chest. The white material was pristine, as if the injury underneath was freshly wrapped.
I sat up straighter, my heart thumping painfully. Duncan spotted me, his blue eyes going wide.
“Corinthe!” He winced as Vander brought him to a halt, but he strained forward like he meant to break Vander’s grip and rush to my side.
Vander jerked him closer, and Duncan winced again.
Then he swallowed hard as he took in my evening gown and the thick braids Delphine had pinned around my head.
“They told me you were here, but I thought they were lying.” Tears filled his eyes, and a low sob escaped him. “They lied about so many things.”
I looked at Rasimir, my cautious compliance disintegrating. “You won’t hurt him.”
My father raised his eyebrows. “You insult me, Daughter. Humans are beneath my notice.” He looked at Vander. “Seat our guest.”
Vander’s expression was inscrutable as he shuffled Duncan to the table and pushed him into the chair next to Lorcan.
“Stay put,” Vander said, shoving in Duncan’s chair. He stepped back but remained just behind Duncan’s chair.
Duncan gaped at me, his bandaged hand resting on the table. Red stained his cheeks, and his eyes were glassy with fever. “You look gorgeous, Corinthe. I hardly recognize you.”
Rasimir chuckled. “An interesting way to court a woman.”
Duncan startled, then looked at Rasimir. His lips parted, and he paled under his tan. It was as if he’d just noticed Rasimir. “You…” he whispered, trembling. “You’re—”
“ Koyno ,” Rasimir said, black flashing through his eyes.
Duncan turned back to me, the tension melting from his shoulders. His lips curved in a lopsided smile. “I looked all over for you,” he said, slurring his words a little. “Mother said I was wasting my time.” He giggled, the sound lifting the hair on my nape.
“The human speaks the truth,” Rasimir said, pulling my gaze to him. He frowned at Duncan, a mystified note entering his tone. “He sold his cow to finance a reward for your safe return.”
Tess. A fist squeezed my heart. When we were teens, some of the other boys in town teased Duncan for bringing Tess to the schoolhouse.
She gets lonely when I leave her at home , he’d confessed to me one afternoon, the tips of his ears turning red.
The silly old girl finds a way out of the paddock and follows me here. I don’t want her to get hurt, you know?
Rasimir drummed his fingers on the velvet-padded arm of his chair. “You must be hungry, Mr. Bagley.”
Before he’d finished the sentence, a servant swept into the dining room with a covered plate.
Duncan continued gazing at me with a slack smile as the man set the dish in front of him and removed the lid.
Steam rose from a bowl of thick stew. Another servant entered and placed a napkin and cutlery next to Duncan’s plate.
Then both servants inclined their heads toward Rasimir and left.
“Eat, Mr. Bagley,” Rasimir ordered.
Immediately, Duncan lifted his spoon and began to eat.
Chunks of carrots and cubed meat floated in the stew’s thick brown sauce.
Duncan slurped and swallowed, his spoon descending again and again.
But something was wrong. He ate too quickly, barely pausing to chew.
Stew dribbled down the front of his shirt.
Steam rose from every bite, but he continued to eat.
He flinched, his mouth hanging open as he lifted a spoonful of steaming meat.
“It’s too hot,” I said, my dinner churning in my stomach. “He’s burning his mouth.”
Rasimir said nothing. Lorcan and Vander were both quiet, their faces hard.
I pushed back my chair. “Duncan, slow down.”
“Stay in your seat,” Lorcan told me in a low voice.
Rasimir clapped his hands together, a look of childish excitement on his face. “Oh my, this is a tantalizing development. Two suitors vying for the same woman’s attention.”
Duncan slurped and coughed, more stew slipping from the corners of his mouth. Sauce dripped onto his shirt and drizzled down the fabric.
Tears burned my eyes as I glared at my father. Wrangling back my hatred, I forced calm into my voice. “Duncan is a farmer. He’s no threat to you. Please, let him go.”
Rasimir held my stare. Then he tilted his head. “You want me to release him?”
Duncan’s spoon clinked sharply against the side of his bowl. Swallowing against my thickening throat, I nodded. “Release him, and I’ll do whatever you want.”
An indulgent smile curved my father’s lips. “My dear daughter, you’ll do that anyway.” He turned to Duncan. “That’s enough for now, Mr. Bagley. Stop eating.”