Chapter 32
Montrer
BASTIEN
The gravity of what I’d just done and the decisions I’d made settled over me when I came face-to-face with Natalia. As soon as the door was closed, she rounded on me. “What the hell was going on in there?”
Despite the sound-dampening spells on Claire’s room, she knew I was doing something I shouldn’t have been. My niece knew the law just as well as I did. Vampires aren’t allowed to make sexual advances on their sanguine partners.
From her perspective, what I was doing wasn’t just foolish. It was illegal. But she didn’t know the truth. So, instead of being honest, I brushed past her, making my way across the hall toward the council chamber, irritation collecting at my temples.
Undeterred, Natalia grabbed me by the arm and whirled me around. When she did, her eyes fell to my chest. “Bastien!” she gasped. “Your bloodstone!”
I looked down, realizing that I hadn’t put my jacket or cravat back on, and the bloodstone was glowing right through the buttonholes. Pulsing away for all to see. “Leave it alone,” I said, slapping her hand away and turning to fetch a new jacket and tie from my room.
Natalia followed at my heels. The door of my private apartment—which was carved of ebony-stained wood and bore the sigil of House Allard—opened at my approach. The magick of the castle allowing only its master passage.
She followed me inside, and the door closed behind us. “Gods, this makes so much sense!” she nearly shouted once we were safely behind the wards. “This explains why you’ve been acting so… so weird.”
I glared at her. I’d been called many things over the course of my life, but never had I been accused of being weird. I could feel my temper begin to rise, and the part of me that was a predator awakened, just as it had done in Claire’s room.
“Uncle, you know what this means,” Natalia continued. “The implications alone of taking your mate as a sanguine partner are severe. You could be dethroned! Or worse, exsanguinated!”
“Don’t you think I know that!” I shot back.
If she could figure it out in a matter of weeks, it was only a matter of time before others did as well.
Marius might’ve forgiven me for tasting Claire’s blood before the first bite, but he would have no tolerance for this.
He’d demand my return to the capital, or he’d be duty bound by the Blood Treaty to kill me.
My carefully composed life felt like it was unraveling at the seams. I was acting careless and impulsive—wholly unlike myself.
But there was nothing I could do to stop the effects of our mate bond.
I knew I was risking everything by telling Claire about our mate bond and giving in to my primal urges, but I didn’t know how to resist her.
It was like asking a vampire not to crave blood. It was… impossible.
Unless, of course, I was willing to summon a god. Which I wasn’t.
When I saw the tears in Natalia’s eyes, I realized she was less angry at me for keeping this from her and more afraid. Still, I couldn’t find it in me to ask for her help. “I’m sorry,” I told my niece. “Trust that I know what I’m doing.”
When she didn’t respond, I made my way toward the back of my apartment, to the bedchamber I never used except to store my clothing.
“I do trust you,” she said, as I grabbed a fresh jacket and shrugged into it.
“More than anyone else. But this is different. You’re mated.
To her of all people. By the gods, Bastien—you have new responsibilities.
Things you’re supposed to do. Like, create an heir that isn’t Tyson! ”
“My heir wouldn’t be ready to lead for decades.”
“The longer you wait, the longer it will take to replace Tyson!”
I glared at her. “I don’t mean to leave Chateau Rose and start a family. I’m staying put.”
She stood there, mouth agape. As if I needed to be reminded, the weight of those responsibilities followed me wherever I went. For a vampire, being mated wasn’t just a responsibility. It was a way of life.
But one thing was for sure: I would not create an heir with Claire.
For the longest time, I’d thought was a mateless vampire. Forgotten by the gods and glad for it. In nearly five hundred years since I’d been turned, all of my brothers had succumbed to their mate bond multiple times over as their mates were reborn again and again.
All but me.
I’d put the idea of a mate and a child so far out of my mind and turned to helping other children. Lost souls who came to my castle needing safety and food. I employed them. Housed them. Tried to make this world a little safer for them by negotiating with covens on our borders.
“You can’t stay here! It’s against the laws. Mated vampires are impulsive. You’ve been thinking of nothing but her for weeks.”
“Never, ever accuse me of putting myself before my people.”
“Fine. But—”
“What would you have me do?” I asked, fastening a new cravat. “Return to the capital? Leave Tyson to lead the negotiations between Hector and Chastity in the Lawless Lands?”
“No. Of course not,” Natalia replied. Deep down, I knew she was just as unhappy as I was to have an heir named for me. “That’s why you should petition to become the High Prince. Then you can force them to listen.”
Since the moment I’d seen my niece swing a sword, I’d known she was a warrior, and I needed help leading and ruling here in the north. But she wasn’t my heir. And as much love as I had for her, I was only one man amongst twelve brothers.
“I’m sorry, Natalia, but you know I have no desire to take Marius’s position. I’ve done everything I can to get your titles reinstated or to name you my heir, but they are obstinate and refuse. ”
Fury burned in her eyes. “They think I’m just being difficult. That one day I’ll grow up and stop pretending to be a girl. Then, and only then, will I be treated like an equal.”
Yes, Natalia might’ve been born a male, as all vampires are, but she knew she wasn’t meant to be called ‘lord.’ When she confided in me the truth, I’d been proud.
Proud of her for insisting to be seen for who she truly was.
While our family accepted her new name and dress, they couldn’t allow a female to rule.
So they stripped her titles, and with them, her rightful claim to lead.
“If my brothers want to shun you for who you are, it’s their loss.”
“It’s not just their loss,” she said quietly. “It’s mine. I’m the one who suffers. And so do our people when they get Tyson instead of me.”The words scraped from her throat, torn from some pain she rarely spoke of.
“You’re right,” I said quietly. I blew out a long breath.
“Listen, I know you’re upset about many things right now.
Tyson. Claire. The fact that things are changing.
But you are my most trusted advisor, my second-in-command, and I will not abandon you.
I need you to trust that I have everything under control. ”
We stared at each other for a long moment. I needed her to believe that I could do this in order to believe it myself.
“I do trust you.” She crossed her arms. “It’s her I don’t trust. Even if she is your… you know, mate.”
Not this again. Her skepticism about Claire. I shook my head as I brushed past her, checking my reflection to ensure no one could see the bloodstone. “Not everyone is an enemy,” I reminded her as I straightened my tie.
“But some are,” she hissed. “There’s something about her and her sister that I don’t like.”
I’d had my suspicions about Claire at first, but now I understood why she’d bought that necklace. She was scared, and besides, she was my mate. “Claire has given us no reason to mistrust her. You heard the report from the scout. She returned to Nightfall Convent. How much more proof do you want?”
“What about Alec’s story? He was attacked by strange men and scratched by a woman who turned into a werewolf—a woman who’d been at the same inn. A woman who matches her sister’s description.”
“Except for the hair.”
“It’s close enough!” Natalia snapped.
I leveled a look at her. “Claire is not an enemy. End of story.”Natalia’s opinion appeared to be unchanged despite my reasoning.
Even though I trusted her judgment, she could be just as pig-headed and stubborn as my brothers when she thought she was right.
“Can I trust you to keep this information confidential?”
She turned away from me. “You know I will.”
“Thank you.”
Natalia let out an annoyed breath. “Don’t get all sentimental on me. I’m not your mate.”
I grinned. “Thank the gods.”
We shared a laugh that relieved some of the tension, but I could tell she still had her doubts. To be fair, so did I. I doubted how I was going to earn her trust. And more importantly, how I was going to walk the line between being mated and being the Duke of Roselyn.
The two of us left my apartment and made our way to the council chambers, where my advisors were waiting, looking grim.
“What news?” I asked, taking my seat at the head of the table.
I noticed my nephew, drunk and disheveled, was seated in a chair in the corner, which I found annoying. Yes, as my heir, he needed to be involved, but I was still furious with him for getting Claire drunk. This could have been avoided had he not involved himself.
“A raven has arrived,” Laurent announced. He was Grand Advisor—a largely ceremonial role, but he often served as a level-headed voice in a room of hotheads.
“From the Lawless Lands?” I asked, leaning forward. I’d been waiting on a reply from my last letter.
“No, Your Grace. From Devonelle. More attacks have been made by Witches of the Light. The Kemp family states their defensive spells were breached. One of their own is dead.”
An uncomfortable silence followed. It seemed the troubles Shreesa described were following me north, leaving behind a trail of increasingly heinous carnage. I leaned forward in my seat, my fists curling into tight balls.
“Who was killed?” I asked.
Laurent set the letter down. “Temperance, Your Grace. Temperance Kemp.”
Grumbles and whispers went around the council room.
My worst suspicions confirmed. The matriarch of an incredibly powerful coven was dead.
A level-headed woman that had kept her coven’s practice within the bounds of the law, even when those inside it, like her daughter, Hera, had advocated for retribution.
Her death was a tragedy in more than one way.
Perhaps Imogen had been right when she counseled me down at her salt pools.
Perhaps the war I so badly wanted to believe the Blood Treaty settled had never really ended.
“Will you be attending her funeral? Hera has requested your presence for the funeral rites.”
Taking Claire to the home of Dark Witches during a funeral ritual might be too much. Yet, I was loath to leave her alone. Rubbing a frustrated hand over my face, I sat back in my chair. “Let me think on it.”
I contemplated the maps laid out in front of me.
I was sworn to protect this land. This fragile peace.
That was our mission. That’s what the covens had created us for.
Staring at the mark labeled Witches of the Light Territory, I wondered what to do.
They’d attacked my people on my land. Killed one of my own.
Laurent let out a sigh that seemed to capture my own feelings on the matter. “Some will never listen to reason, no matter how much peace you keep, Your Grace.”
The room went quiet again, and I didn’t need to ask which coven had attacked the Kemps. There was only one still causing problems.
The Prideaux Witches.
“Old debts get inherited. Even ones that date back to The Choosing.”
Over the centuries, I’d considered obliterating the entire coven, but there were still those who quietly supported the old ways, and killing one unruly coven could rally others to their cause, pitting more against us.
“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Tyson interjected, “but are you saying this grudge goes back to The Choosing?”
The night my brothers and I were selected for this task—six Witches of the Light and six Witches of the Darkness chosen to die a mortal death and be reborn as vampires. Immortal protectors of peace.
My gaze wandered to my nephew, who had risen out of his chair and had wandered over to the stone table.
He looked so much like his father in this light, it was shocking.
Hair so black it was nearly blue and olive skin, tanned from the southern weather.
I wondered how much he’d been taught about our histories or if the entirety of his education was conducted either in the training yard or at fancy dinner parties.
“Yes. That’s correct,” I replied. “During the run-up to The Choosing, there was a coven who thought they deserved to provide a tribute more than any other. At the time, their matriarch believed her strongest spellcaster, a witch named Dorian, should be chosen as one of the twelve.” If I closed my eyes, I could still see Dorian’s face.
His pale hair and smug expression. “But Dorian was an extremist. Just like the rest of his family. And so he wasn’t chosen. ”
“And five hundred years later and they’re still bitter about it?” he asked with a quizzical look on his face. So innocent in his belief that old grudges would ease with time.
“Grudges ripen, like grapes on a vine, becoming sweeter and juicier. After a time, the younger generations have no idea who planted the vine or why they must pick its fruit, but it’s become such a large part of their culture that they stop asking questions.
They live hate, drink hate, and spread hate. ”
Grunts of agreement made their way around the room. Tyson settled back into his seat, chin in hand, lost in thought.
Natalia banged her fist on the table. “If you won’t say it, then I will. Angelina Prideaux is a relentless buffoon, and to keep the peace you promised to uphold, we must take her out.”
Many nodded their agreement.
“She may lack the resources to start a war, but damn if she’s not going to try,” Gavin, my Master-at-Arms added.
I folded my hands, thinking how best to handle this attack.
Marius’s blood ran just as hot as Natalia’s, and if I told him of this most recent attack, he very well may reach the same conclusion.
This kind of war required a gentle hand.
The last thing I wanted to do was radicalize the neighboring Witches of the Light.
Natalia leaned in. “And what of Alec’s story? What if the Witches of the Light have learned how to transform into werewolves?”