Chapter 6
M ama lied.
The words pounded in my head as I trailed King Rasimir—no, my father —through a maze of elegant passageways dripping with obvious wealth.
The Drakhold might have looked like a dark and menacing fortress from the outside, but the inside sparkled as brightly as the rest of Nocta.
The floors were black marble, and the walls were made of some kind of glossy, reflective stone veined with gold.
Every few steps, a gilt-framed mirror or vibrant painting hung between candle sconces that glowed with shimmering white orbs.
The vampires who’d greeted us in the courtyard had melted away as soon as we moved into the fortress, but Vander followed at our heels.
He’d lied, too—or at least he hadn’t been completely honest. He’d been careful, talking around the truth as skillfully as someone performing a dance.
What’s my father’s name? Why didn’t he seek me out before now?
That’s his story to tell.
He serves King Rasimir?
All of Nocta serves the king.
I tried to catch Vander’s eye in the mirrors, but he kept his gaze straight ahead, his russet hair glinting in the soft, glowing light.
Double doors loomed in front of us. They swung open at our approach, and Rasimir led us into a large, glittering room filled with plush furniture positioned around ornate carpets.
Like the corridors, the walls were adorned with mirrors and artwork.
Fires crackled in enormous hearths on either end of the room.
A man rose from one of the sofas as we entered.
He was alone, his unadorned black clothes a stark contrast to the opulence around him.
The same tingling rush of awareness I’d experienced outside told me he was a vampire.
But even if my instincts hadn’t alerted me to his nature, I would have known what he was.
Everything about him screamed predator, from his lean, muscled build to his dark, liquid eyes fringed by thick lashes.
His hair was pulled back in a queue, showcasing a jaw as square as Vander’s.
Unlike Vander’s, this man’s face held no trace of stubble.
His cheeks were smooth, his features as beautiful as one of the paintings on the wall.
He inclined his head as Rasimir stopped before him. My father turned to me with an indulgent look.
“Corinthe, this is Prince Lorcan.”
My heart stuttered. Prince? I looked from Rasimir to the dark-haired man, who still bowed his head. “My brother?”
Rasimir laughed. “No. I have but one child, my dear.” His smile warmed his green eyes. “And it brings me immeasurable joy to finally have you here, in the bosom of your people.”
Awkwardness stole over me, my Derryton upbringing leaving me at a loss in the face of such formal speech. “Thank you…Majesty.”
Something flickered in Rasimir’s eyes, the emotion smothered so quickly I couldn’t decipher it.
“You must call me Father. It might be an adjustment for you, but it’s important for my subjects to accept you as quickly as possible.
” His eyes warmed again. “And I confess that I long to hear it on your pretty lips.” He looked at Prince Lorcan. “She is pretty, isn’t she, Lorcan?”
At last, Lorcan lifted his head. Dark eyes met mine, and I caught my breath as menace rolled off the prince. There was no other word for it. He radiated danger—and he absolutely did not like me. I’d encountered enough animosity in Derryton to know when someone resented my presence.
“Yes,” he said, his voice as smooth as his flawless face. “Quite lovely.”
Words stuck in my throat as the prince’s dislike curled around me.
If he wasn’t my brother, then who was he?
Had I usurped his position in some way? I forced myself to hold his stare, which required me to tip up my chin slightly.
Although shorter and slighter than Vander, Prince Lorcan was still a big man.
Broad shoulders stretched the black fabric of his coat, which hugged a trim waist before descending to the tops of powerful thighs.
And I had no business assessing his body like a housewife at a butcher’s stall on market day. Before I could reply, Lorcan looked at a spot over my shoulder.
“I trust your journey from Ghedda was uneventful?”
Vander’s deep voice echoed behind me. “The roads were clear, Your Highness. We encountered no trouble.”
The lie turned me around, my gaze landing on Vander. He stood just inside the doorway, his back straight and his hand resting on his sword’s pommel. For the briefest second, his silver eyes met mine. Then he pinned his gaze on some indistinct point in the distance, his posture that of a sentry’s.
My heart thumped faster, and my mind spun with visions of him plunging his sword into the werewolf’s neck. The attack in the clearing had been anything but “uneventful.”
Lorcan made a low sound of approval. “I’m relieved to hear it, Captain.”
Captain?
“It’s always a happy occasion when you manage to discharge your duties without incident,” Lorcan added.
Vander stiffened. Tension filled the air, a line of it pulling taut between the men.
Rasimir’s laugh broke it. “Now, now, my prince, there’s no need for enmity.” He touched my shoulder, pulling my attention back to him. “Come, Corinthe, I would speak with you alone before the servants bring refreshments.” He proffered his arm, an expectant look on his face.
Protest was out of the question. I was a guest—a princess if I believed the man who claimed to be my father.
And hadn’t I spent a lifetime wondering about him?
This was my chance to learn. Still, my heart continued its runaway pace as I took Rasimir’s arm.
With Prince Lorcan’s gaze burning a hole in my back, I let the king guide me to the other side of the room.
He opened a pair of glass doors I’d mistaken for a window and then ushered me onto a large balcony.
“Look,” he said, beckoning me to the stone railing. “All of Nocta greets you.”
I stepped forward, and my breath caught as I surveyed the land below.
The Drakhold perched on the edge of a tall cliff that overlooked a vast mountain valley.
Far on the other side, another craggy cliff was bordered by a lush, green forest of trees so tall their peaks were wreathed with pink clouds.
A sparkling river wound through the valley, the water so distant it appeared no wider than a strand of hair.
And everywhere, the twilight kingdom sparkled.
But it wasn’t a human twilight. Here, the sun warmed without burning, its rays stretching across a pink-and-orange sky.
The heady perfume I’d scented on the rise with Vander was thicker now, the aroma so pleasant I wanted to gulp it by the lungful.
As I gazed over the valley, the wind picked up, the breeze like the tinkling notes of a harp.
Somehow, I knew without asking that the music emanated from the land itself.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “Even more so than I first thought.”
Rasimir looked at me, and his green eyes held the weight of age once more. “It can be lonely.” As I searched for an appropriate response, he ran his gaze over my dress. “I wondered if Lilawen might pass my gift on to you.”
My heart thumped harder, and I couldn’t stop myself from touching the gown’s thick brown skirt. “My mother never spoke of you until recently. She claimed you were a nobleman.” I lifted my head. “But I should have guessed the truth. Only a king could afford a dragonstone dress.”
My father smiled. “A priceless gift for a once-in-a-lifetime love.”
“Did you love her?”
“Yes. Deeply.” He sighed, his chest lifting. “But Lilawen and I came from different worlds. She appeared out of the blue one day, lost and frightened. She would never talk of where she came from, but I have my spies, as every king must.”
Curiosity bloomed within me, information a tantalizing prize I couldn’t help but grasp at. “She said you hunted her.”
Rasimir huffed, the sound so humanlike he looked like a young, handsome man again instead of an ancient king.
“She trespassed in my kingdom.” He nodded toward the forest on the other side of the valley.
“And better I hunt her than one of the creatures who inhabit those woods. Nocta is no place for a human, let alone a young woman on her own. Lilawen was fortunate I found her. And if she led you to believe she was innocent of the crimes that drove her across the Feyline, I fear you were taken in just as easily as I was.”
Dissent stiffened my spine. “My mother was wrongfully accused.”
Something shrewd shimmered in Rasimir’s eyes.
“I’ve been a king for a long time, Corinthe.
And I’ve adjudicated the trials of countless criminals over the years.
Some of the finest actors are found at the end of a hangman’s noose.
” He tilted his head. “Your mother lied to you about me, did she not? What makes you think she told the truth about being a thief?”
My nape heated. Was he right about Mama? I couldn’t deny his point. She’d kept Rasimir’s identity from me. I was a princess, but she raised me in Derryton, where I might have married Duncan Bagley and lived out my days fetching preserves for his mother’s cakes.
But my mother loved me. Even with Rasimir’s words ringing in my head, I knew her love was real. Maybe Rasimir was right. Maybe Mama was a thief. But like most thieves, she understood the value of rare, powerful things.
Dhampirs don’t come along often. Your ability to tolerate the sun is a unique power, and the vampires value power above everything.
“She ran from you,” I said. “She was afraid.”
His expression turned patient. “She was young, and she discovered she was carrying my child. Like most immortals, vampires struggle to produce offspring. Lilawen knew I would never let her leave Nocta with my heir. You are precious to me.”
Mama’s warnings trembled inside me. For twenty-four years, I’d hidden from a nameless, faceless threat. Now he stood before me, and it was too late to run.