Chapter 24
I woke shivering. Through the windows, a half-moon hung heavy in the night sky.
Cool air streamed through the balcony doors, which were slightly ajar.
The gown I’d worn to dinner cinched my waist, the boning digging into my ribs.
Delphine hadn’t appeared to undress me, and I’d fallen asleep in my chair.
But at least the temple and the Crau Setra had been absent from my dreams.
And it was no wonder. Dinner had left me exhausted, my cheeks aching from smiling through course after course and Rasimir’s pointed questions.
Where did you go?
What did you learn?
“No vor s, Majesty,” Lorcan had said, his long fingers wrapped around the stem of his wineglass. “But the princess continues to show promise.”
Rasimir had stared at him a moment too long before looking at me, and his smile had come just a little too slowly before he replied, “I prefer that she show progress.”
Goose bumps rose on my arms, the chill in the room pulling me from my memories and out of my chair.
The second I stood, pain shot down my neck.
Grimacing, I massaged the ache as I blinked in the darkness.
Working the kinks of unsettled sleep from my shoulders, I turned in a slow circle, my skirts rustling.
The chamber was quiet, the fire nothing more than embers.
A few hobflies drifted above the candles on a nearby table.
Guilt twisted around me. I’d been so caught up with kisses and borrowed power, I neglected to do something about the hobflies.
But asking Delphine to remove the tiny prisoners from my presence seemed worse than inaction.
Drawing attention to their plight was likely to enrage Rasimir.
The best I could do was tell myself I’d free the hobflies as soon as I was able.
A chilly breeze swirled around my ankles. I could do something about that, at least.
Fresh roses perfumed the air as I moved toward the balcony.
The snake on the headboard glittered in the darkness, its open jaws poised above the bed.
Delphine still turned down the blankets every evening—and then pretended not to notice that I never slept among them.
When—and if—she arrived to help me dress for the day, I’d pretend I didn’t know she healed Rasimir’s prisoners to keep them healthy for him to consume.
Lorcan told me to practice hiding my expressions in the mirror.
But maybe I didn’t need it. Maybe the Drakhold had numbed me as thoroughly as the cold.
As I reached for the balcony door’s handle, a noise from outside stopped me. Hesitating, I stared through the gap. Maybe Vander was meeting with Timmon again. Swallowing, I pulled the door wider and stepped onto the balcony. Frosty air burned my nose as I moved outside and looked over the maze.
Some of the water shooting from the merman’s pursed lips had turned to vapor in the cold, making it look like he puffed smoke into the air.
Sezat.
How long ago had Rasimir petrified him? Was the vor irreversible after a certain point? I should have asked Lorcan and Vander. Mama would have scolded me for being a poor student.
The maze faded, and the forest took its place.
Moonlight turned the towering pines a pale silver.
The mountains rose in the distance, their peaks capped with snow that appeared to kiss the stars.
A sigh built in my chest as I gripped the railing.
Nocta was such a beautiful place to hold so much ugliness.
A shadow swept across the moon, and my breath caught as an enormous winged figure plunged to the balcony. As I reeled backward, Lorcan sailed over the railing, a pair of glomarid wings flaring above his shoulders. A man with a mop of dark blond curls struggled under his arm.
I gasped, almost tripping over my skirts as I stumbled backward. Lorcan touched down, and the man twisted and kicked, his eyes blazing above the gag wrapped around the lower half of his face.
Yellow eyes—the same kind I’d seen every time I encountered a werewolf.
He glowered at me, growls rumbling from his chest. An upturned nose made him appear younger than he probably was, although it was impossible to tell his true age.
The sour stench of sweat rolled off him, the scent mixed with earth and a faint whiff of wet fur.
Lorcan folded his wings with a snap. His chest was bare, and his muscles flexed as he wrestled the werewolf off the balcony and into the bedchamber.
“Get the doors,” he said. As I hurried to obey, a whisper of sound made me spin. My chamber door opened, and Vander slipped inside and pressed a finger to his lips.
Lorcan’s grunt swung my attention back to him. The werewolf fought harder, burying an elbow in Lorcan’s ribs. Lorcan’s fangs flashed as he tightened his grip on the smaller man.
“The doors, Corinthe,” he said, exasperation lacing his voice.
“Sorry,” I whispered, doing as he asked.
Lorcan pointed to the roses in the center of the table. “ Uci .”
The blooms shriveled. Several blossoms fell from their stems, hit the table, and turned to dust.
The werewolf stilled, his citrine eyes widening above his gag.
Lorcan spoke in his ear. “That’s right, dog. Death is easier than you think. So stop fighting unless you wish for it.”
The man slumped, but his eyes continued to burn with anger.
Vander rushed forward, pulling feygeld and a dagger from his pockets. The blade flashed as he quickly dropped crystals in a wide circle around Lorcan and the werewolf. When he extended a hand toward me, I hurried to him and let him draw me over the boundary.
“ Zid vedara ,” Vander said, and the crystals glowed blue.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, looking from Vander to Lorcan. “You brought a werewolf into my room?”
The stranger’s gaze rested on me, threats swimming in his yellow irises.
The gag stretched his mouth in an unnatural shape, and the cloth bit into his cheeks.
Despite the distortion, he appeared attractive.
Behind him, Lorcan folded his stolen wings more tightly, his muscles rippling under his skin.
His leather trousers clung to his hips, and his hair was loose, dark brown strands spilling over one thick shoulder.
I yanked my stare away as heat crept into my cheeks.
Vander tucked the last of the feygeld in his pocket. “You said you wanted to speak to the wolves.” He waved a hand toward Lorcan’s captive. “This is our best chance of reaching someone who will listen.”
I glanced at the door. “Someone could hear us.”
One corner of Vander’s mouth quirked up. “Not through my ward, they won’t.”
Lorcan manhandled the werewolf forward another step.
“This wolf serves Kristoff, alpha of the Greyskold Pack. Their numbers exceed two thousand. Kristoff has a great deal of influence over the other alphas, and he’s rumored to be wary of the witches’ promises.
Supposedly, he’s also tired of burying wolves who die fighting for the covens. ”
I inhaled deeply as I looked between Vander and Lorcan. They’d done what I suggested, bringing me a werewolf. And it was so very dangerous. If Rasimir caught them, not even their centuries of service were likely to save them.
An image of Rasimir’s gruesome, split-second transformation between politeness and rage flashed in my mind. No, Rasimir wouldn’t simply kill Vander and Lorcan if he discovered they’d done this. He would kill them in ways that made Duncan’s death look merciful.
“You brought me a werewolf,” I repeated, not quite sure I believed it.
Vander watched me with steady eyes. “You wanted to speak with one.”
And it was as simple as that. I’d expressed a desire, and they’d made it happen. They’d chosen me over their duties to my father. My heart sped up. Heat prickled over my skin as both men waited for me to make the next move. The weight of their trust settled on my shoulders, rooting me in place.
But I couldn’t stand still. Every second we conspired under Rasimir’s nose was fraught with unspeakable risk.
Swallowing hard, I turned to the werewolf. I lifted my chin, and I willed my voice to stay steady as I said, “Remove his gag.”
Lorcan reached around and wrenched away the fabric. The cloth ripped and fell to the ground.
The werewolf spat another damp wad of cloth from his mouth, then worked his jaw as if it pained him. Red marred his cheeks where the gag had dug into his skin. His eyes brightened a shade as he raked a contemptuous look down my body.
“If you think my alpha will ever agree to serve a bloodsucker whore—”
His words ended in a strangled whimper as Vander flashed in front of him and wrapped a big hand around his throat. Claws burst from his knuckles and pressed into the werewolf’s skin. Blood trickled down the man’s neck, and the scent bloomed, iron and sugar touched with the sour stench of fear.
Lorcan hissed, his fangs less than an inch from the werewolf’s ear. “That was a mistake, dog.”
Vander’s broad back blocked my view of the werewolf except for the man’s face, which rapidly turned purple as Vander spoke in a low, even voice that curdled my blood.
“Insult her again, and I’ll slice off your balls and feed them to you. That’s a promise, boy, not a threat. And I always keep my promises.”
The hair on my nape lifted. I’d always believed Lorcan was the colder of the two men. Now I knew how badly I’d miscalculated. Vander’s anger was a sharp blade concealed by an easy smile.
The werewolf made a gurgling sound. Vander loosened his grip, and the man nodded as more blood ran down his neck and soaked his collar. When Vander removed his hand, the werewolf sucked in air like a fish flopping on the shore.
“All right…” he wheezed. “I…understand.”
“Apologize,” Vander said, letting his claws hover at the man’s collarbone.
The werewolf fastened his yellow eyes on me, anxiety supplanting his hatred. “I’m sorry.”
Vander seized the man’s throat again.