45. Red Haze of Fury
A fter spending hours in his office trying to make sense of payroll, Adrian finally signed the documents of blurry numbers, trusting his staff. He then turned to the more personal letters. The sight of Lady Julianna’s handwriting twisted his stomach. Taking the entire stack, he dumped them in his fireplace, favors included. Lighting the lot, he watched the paper blacken and curl, the cotton of the feminine favors smolder before the embroidered handkerchiefs caught.
His anger burned as the logs burned, though he wasn’t angry at the ladies. It wasn’t their letters, gifts, or even the cloying perfume that set him off. No, it was his own ineptitude. He was unused to being powerless, his incompetence and inability to make Rose happy infuriating him.
Like the flames, he thought, watching them dance and flicker, she’d come blazing into the darkness of monotony and duty that was his life, breathing warmth into his cold heart and completely shaking his foundations. She inspired feelings he’d always thought impossible for him .
But it wasn’t meant for keeps. It was so fucking unfair, to be destined for someone who was always going to walk away.
And she should, he thought. She should go far away and find her truth, real happiness, and a better future. He could never give her what she needed, would forever let her down with his inability to stand up to her ideals.
He had too much of his parents in him, was too shackled to his crown, bound by the rules and customs of his court.
And he would never deserve her.
With despair swirling inside him, knowing he’d never work, he went out into his garden. Though he didn’t like the outdoors much unless he was riding Martinet or hunting, he’d chosen these apartments because of them.
They had been his grandparents’ rooms many years ago, and the garden had been his grandmother’s favorite place. Adrian hadn’t known her, as he’d been too young when she’d died, but he had a few vague memories of playing on the swing while she pulled weeds or watered.
His grandfather was the one Adrian had admired. They’d had many talks out here when Adrian was a child, discussing duty while his grandmother tended her plants. Though cold, Adrian always knew his grandparents loved each other.
Maybe not loved, he amended, but supported.
His grandfather had kept peace in Neigera. With an iron fist, yes, and Adrian suspected his subjects had been too afraid to cause waves, but that had always seemed normal. His father was much the same and had passed those ways on to him. Being like his forebears had always been a source of pride to Adrian.
Before Rose had shown him the cracks in his crown, before he had seen the possibility of genuine peace and prosperity. It felt utterly unattainable, just a ridiculous, childish dream as he stared into the flowers Rose so loved caring for. He didn’t know their names but liked how they seemed to glow faintly as the moon shined down upon them.
Like the way Rose glowed in her happiness.
Crippling fear that he’d never see that again made him weak. What if he never again experienced that sexy afterglow when they were through loving each other?
Moon Goddess, he missed her. Even though she was somewhere in the same building, he ached from her absence.
He didn’t realize he was crying until his lungs burned from lack of air. Wiping his nose, he noticed the brightening horizon. For hours he’d reminisced the female he’d never be allowed to love.
A llowed , he scoffed . As if he were a child.
But wasn’t that apt, being controlled by his father, ordered what to do, and given an ultimatum he hated? How did one fight the most powerful force in the land? How did he fight for her?
Another wave of helpless, powerless despair washed over him. Letting it, welcoming it, he wallowed.
Exhausted and utterly emotionally drained, he dragged himself to bed when the sun got too hot. Breathing in Rose’s lingering scent on his pillows, he relived memories of her. When they faded with a vision of her walking away from him, fatigue warred with his looping thoughts. Fitful dreams of Rose running into Aldric’s waiting arms filled his sporadic sleep.
Rising early, he dressed and headed to the training grounds. Lingering anger at Dimitri filled him with righteous fury. He found his brother practicing with a mace in an outdoor arena. Noticing Adrian stepping into the space, the soldier Dimitri was sparring with backed away. Dimitri turned .
Sweat glistened over his forehead and drenched the front of his shirt. His eyes were bloodshot. They widened at Adrian’s expression as he leaned on the mace. “You’re a bit early, little brother. We’re not scheduled—”
Adrian’s fist shot out to crunch his nose.
“Holy fucking shit!” Dimitri bent over, clutching his profusely bleeding nose, his mace dropped on the ground. Coughing, he spit blood. He then stood. “That’s your one free—”
Adrian cut him off with a solid punch to the gut, sending him doubled over again, coughing more as he tried to regain his breath.
“Fucking stop! Let me speak, brother!”
But Adrian was too furious. Red tainted his vision as he took all his frustration, channeling it into rage, and unleashed it on the brother who’d defiled and almost intimately violated the one who meant the most to him. Clenching his teeth, he punched Dimitri in the kidney, and then sent an uppercut into his chin.
Whatever he had to say, it wouldn’t be enough. Nothing would be enough.
And it would likely be lies.
Soldiers training close by jumped in to pull Adrian off his brother. Easily fighting them off, he threw them to the ground, pulling one of their swords and pointing it first at one throat, and then the other.
“This is between my brother and I. Keep out of it.” When both males raised their hands, he looked at the crowd, pointing his sword in warning, and then tossed it, turning back to Dimitri.
His brother was on his knees, wiping more blood from his nose. Shakily, he stood, raising his hands. “Get it out, Adrian. I surely deserve it. But then let me speak. I’m sorry—”
“Shut the fuck up, Dimitri.” The half-assed apology enraged Adrian and he charged, ramming his shoulder into Dimitri’s gut and knocking him down. They wrestled, Dimitri only fighting half-heartedly, murmuring words Adrian didn’t hear through the pounding of the blood in his ears.
So lost was he in fury, so focused on making Dimitri pay for what he’d attempted, that Adrian didn’t realize his brother was unconscious under his pummeling fists until strong beefy arms pulled him away, wrapping around and restraining him.
“He’s done, son, he’s done,” the older vampire said. Though Adrian struggled to get loose, he calmed as the voice broke through and his vision cleared.
Dimitri lay unconscious, his face an unrecognizable pulp, bruises already blackening parts of his body. Stomach souring at the reality of what he’d unleashed, Adrian’s heart sank.
This was why vampires were not allowed to use the full extent of their strength on humans. Death came too easy for the lesser species.
“Bloody hell.” Running a hand through his sweaty hair, he looked at the vampire checking Dimitri’s pulse. His shallow breathing said he was still alive, for which Adrian was grateful.
Even though he’d done something vile, Dimitri was still his brother. Oceans separated them, they were constantly at odds, and their rivalry never ended, but there had once been a time he’d looked up to Dimitri. Even if that time was long gone, the echoes of memories remained.
He’d looked like shit beforehand, likely from another drinking binge, Adrian now realized. And he’d tried to apologize.
Dimitri never apologized.
“Take him to the infirmary,” the vampire who’d come to Dimitri’s rescue, General Kent, ordered. Soldiers, the two who’d tried to subdue Adrian, along with two more, carried him off.
“What the hell did he do to you?” General Kent asked, turning to him .
Adrian didn’t answer, and after a moment they started walking to the palace by unspoken agreement, heading to his father’s office.
“General Kent and Prince Adrian to see you, Your Majesty,” one of his father’s guards announced, knocking on the door.
“How bad?” King Florian asked without looking up from the paperwork on his desk.
“We don’t know yet,” Adrian answered. “General Kent had him taken to the hospital wing.”
The King sighed and looked up, meeting Adrian’s eyes. “How bad?” he repeated more slowly.
“Bad.”
His father sat back in his chair. “You are appeased?”
Adrian looked away, clenching and unclenching his bloody fists, his emotions in a whirlwind. Guilt ate at his gut, the bile rising, even as the anger at what Dimitri had attempted still burned.
“Are you satisfied or not?”
Focusing on his father, Adrian gave a short nod, swallowing acid.
“Good.”
“Your Majesty,” General Kent bowed, “if I may, such behavior should never be condoned. The example this sets is unacceptable, especially from the Crown Prince—”
“You know nothing of the circumstances, General,” the King cut off. “Let it go.”
General Kent’s jaw ticked, but he bowed. “Yes, sir.”
“Did you receive the report I sent last night?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Start the new training schedule immediately. We are on the brink of war and need to be prepared.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. We will be. ”
“Good. Dismissed.” As the general headed toward the door, he added, “Thank you for your intervention to protect my eldest, General.”
The general gave a short nod and then walked out.
“It starts today, Adrian. Be ready for the Assembly. I’m counting on you.”
Adrian stared at his father, who stared back until there was a knock at the door, accompanied by, “Horace here, Your Highnesses.”
“Enter,” the King called.
Horace stepped in and bowed, breathing heavily. “Apologies for interrupting, Your Highnesses.” The vampire guard stood from his bow. “Miss Rose”—a puff of breath—“was just taken to the Queen.” Another breath. “One of her necklaces was found in Miss Rose’s bedside table.”
Cursing, Adrian rushed from the room and toward his mother’s area of the palace. His father quickly caught up and hurried beside him, Horace following, the King’s butler following behind him.
“This is a setup,” Adrian said as they dodged maids in their haste through the halls.
“Of course it is. Your mother’s probably been plotting this for some time and was only waiting for an opportunity.”