Chapter 20
Twenty
A tlas’s sleep was haunted by a pair of sparkling turquoise eyes and cherry red lips.
Everinne had taken up permanent residency in his mind, and though he’d never actually seen her naked before, his subconscious imagined each dip and curve.
Skin as smooth as satin. Full breasts with nipples that hardened to tiny peaks beneath the flick of his tongue.
Long legs that wrapped around him and hips that flared, perfect for gripping while he surged into her.
It had been some time since he’d awoken from a wet dream, not since his youth at least, but as soon as his eyes blinked open, all he could see was her mouth sucking on him the same way she’d done with that damn lollipop.
He groaned, rolling over, and slid from his bed.
What he needed was an ice-cold shower, anything to purge the lustful images of her from his mind.
An abrupt knock sounded outside his bedroom door, and before Atlas could tell whoever it was to piss off, Caedian barged into his chambers.
“Do you mind?” Atlas spread his arms wide, fully nude, his dick still partially erect. “I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.”
Caedian snorted, shutting the door soundly behind him to avoid the wandering eyes of any passing maids. He leaned against the wardrobe, his gray eyes alight with mockery. “Nothing I haven’t seen before, Your Imperial Highness. Besides, this can’t wait.”
Atlas grabbed one of the velvet throws from his bed and wrapped it snugly around his waist. A sinking feeling seized Atlas’s gut. If Caedian couldn’t spare him a few minutes of peace, then whatever news he was about to share was likely grim.
He inclined his head. “Report, then.”
Instantly, Caedian shoved off the wardrobe, straightening.
He widened his stance, tucking his hands behind his back.
“There’s been another disappearance, Your Highness.
A young witchling by the name of Kestra Sephiran, from the Coven of the Scarlet Moon.
She was last seen leaving Belladonna’s Atelier in the shopping district of the city, and no one from the coven has heard from her since. ”
Shit.
Atlas shoved his hair back from his face.
First it was fae. Then a vampire. Now a witch.
If they weren’t careful, Starysa would collapse into a state of unrest. Rebellions would rise, a siege would befall the palace, and war would come from within Prava’s own borders.
It was a risk they couldn’t afford to take, and if Atlas had to guess, his father had already refused to offer any kind of assistance in the matter.
He pressed his thumb and middle finger to his temples, trying to ease the pounding ache forming there. “What of the witch’s magic?”
Caedian tugged on the collar of his uniform, the stiff midnight fabric making him look uncomfortable in his own skin. “She’s a siphon. She can drain magic from others and use their power for herself. Temporarily, of course, but it’s still unusual. And it falls in line with Veros’s theory.”
“That’s what I was afraid you’d say.” Atlas roughed a hand over his face, considering.
“We’ll have to handle this without my father’s knowledge.
If he wants to continue to be an arrogant ass who doesn’t realize the severity of the situation, then he can be the one who suffers when all hell breaks loose.
But I refuse to stand by and do nothing.
I won’t let my kingdom fall under his disgraceful watch. ”
Caedian rolled his shoulders back and dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Orders, Your Imperial Highness.”
“Arrange a meeting with Eldress Valaina of the Morvayne and High Priestess Rozalie of the Coven of the Scarlet Moon tonight. I want the day and location agreed upon by both of them, and as far away from the listening walls of the palace as possible.” He paced the hardwood floors of his bedroom, knowing they would have to end this madness before they had an uprising on their hands.
He didn’t even want to think about the bloodbath that would ensue if fae, vampires, and witches fought against one another.
Or worse, if they banded together and started slaughtering the mortals.
“Have your soldiers stay vigilant. I’m not saying start an interrogation, but we need answers.
Have them listen for any clues, I want them in the parlors, by the docks, in the shopping district.
Anywhere and everywhere that might give us an indication of who or what is behind the disappearances. ”
Caedian bowed and a wrinkle of concern marred his brow. “Is there any chance…do you suppose the mortals could be the cause?”
Atlas gave a short, barking laugh. “Never.”
Not that he didn’t think them incapable, but they simply weren’t strong enough.
It would take a kind of poison, perhaps even something stronger, for a group of mortals to incapacitate an immortal.
Not only that, but as far as he knew, they had no motive.
However, that didn’t mean they didn’t know anything about the situation.
“On second thought,” he muttered, “make inquiries with the mortals as well. I don’t want to discount anything they might have heard.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Highness.” Caedian turned to go, then paused, a wry smile on his face. “Rumors through the guard claim you went to the overlook last night. And before you say it, where you go is always my business.”
Atlas scoffed, refusing to feed into his captain’s trap. “I need a shower.”
“Heard you had a pretty female with you,” Caedian continued, inspecting the cuffs of his uniform. He straightened the gold bands at his wrists. “I thought she was off limits?”
“She is,” Atlas growled and pointed to the door. “Now, get out.”
Caedian chuckled and ducked his head, strolling out of the room. “Don’t forget, you’re hosting a ball tomorrow night.”
Right. The ball. Where that damn lord of stars would attempt to win Everinne’s heart. And worse, Veros was going to allow it.
Teeming jealousy flooded his veins, filling him with a sense of incomprehensible dread.
He would be forced to find a suitable wife from among Starysa’s nobles, all the while watching as some other male pursued his mate.
Anguish cut through him, like a dagger carving out his heart.
Yet there was nothing to be done. He’d sworn an oath to Veros seventeen years ago, after Everinne killed the man she thought she loved, vowing then to help protect her after Callum’s death sent her into a spiral of self-destruction.
But there’d been a caveat. Veros had also insisted that Atlas keep his hands to himself.
He didn’t want his younger sister falling for the prince of pleasure, didn’t want her yielding to his charms, or getting tangled up with someone who lusted after a new female every night.
Granted, Veros had never actually spoken those spiteful words, but his intent was implied.
Imperial prince or not, Atlas wasn’t a good enough match for Everinne.
Frustrated with his current circumstances and pissed off with his former self, Atlas tossed aside the throw around his waist and yanked on a pair of pants.
He could shower later.
Right now, he needed to hit something.
Sweat slid down Atlas’s spine and rolled down his forearms, freezing to his skin. The sun was hidden behind a wall of ominous gray, and the clouds were spitting out tiny daggers of ice. Despite the frosty temperature, he’d discarded his grossly damp shirt.
Unfortunately, it meant there was one less barrier between the sting of Caedian’s blade and his flesh whenever he failed to dodge an advance.
The cut across his left shoulder burned as the fae magic of his blood slowly healed the wound, but it didn’t make the injury any less of a disgrace.
He was the prince, he’d been trained to handle a sword since he could walk, and already his Captain of the Guard had struck him twice.
Both times Atlas had left himself open to attack.
“You seem a little agitated today,” Caedian called out, his sword slashing through the air.
Atlas narrowly avoided the blow, the clang of their weapons reverberating down his arms. “I’m fine.”
Caedian paced in a slow circle and Atlas matched him, his weapon raised. He moved with ease, an elite warrior well-versed in the art of stealth and sarcasm. “Maybe you need to get laid.”
Atlas’s gaze narrowed, his grip on the hilt of the sword tightening until his knuckles turned white. “Maybe you need to take a long walk off a short cliff.”
His captain laughed, full and robust. “Is that the best you’ve got?”
This time Atlas lunged, determined to wipe that mocking smirk off his captain’s face.
Caedian side-stepped him, anticipating his next move.
They clashed in a torrent of metal and strength, the force of one another’s assault driving the other backward, the deafening clang of their blades cracking throughout the field like thunder.
Atlas blinked, sweat stinging his eyes, but he refused to falter. His muscles were on fire, burning from exertion. He ducked low and spun, twisting, and Caedian clicked his tongue in disappointment.
“Your footwork is sloppy. Your wrist is weak.” Their swords met overhead and Caedian shoved him away. “And your form is slacking.”
Atlas swung again, his blade slicing through the air. A clear miss.
Caedian’s words hung between them, thick like the humidity of summer’s hottest day. He tried to ignore them, then his father’s demeaning voice scraped against his mind.
Quit now. Before you embarrass yourself further.
Atlas roared, launching his sword in a fury of loathing across the training field.