Chapter 25
La Délégation
TYSON
Tyson swirled his cup, wishing it were Markalish whiskey instead of whatever poor excuse for wine had been poured for him. He didn’t like this place, and not just because he’d been raised to appreciate the finer things in life. He didn’t mind a little dirt on the floor.
Everything about Chastity’s Stronghold screamed death.
The ceilings were too low. Everything carried a musty scent.
Including the wine. Not to mention it was underground.
And while Tyson was a vampire lord, born into a life where old age wasn’t something he needed to worry about, he had a secret fear of death, a fear his mother had instilled in him long ago.
Another pesky thought flashed across his mind, and he plugged his nose and took a sip of wine.
It was easier to act as if nothing bothered him when all the voices in his head were being drowned in alcohol.
But the sour wine was the worst thing he’d ever put in his mouth, and he promptly spit it out.
For the first time, he told himself the buzz wasn’t worth it.
Natalia, who was sitting across from him at the rough-hewn table, let out a disgusted snort. “Do you mind?”
“How does anyone drink that?” he wondered aloud.
“It’s the house specialty,” Natalia answered, returning to the journal she always kept with her, scribbling down whatever she thought was important.
He set the tin cup down on the table and pushed it away. “More like the house tragedy.”
She lifted her eyes to his. “It’s a mix of wine and herbs that’s supposed to keep one virile.”
Tyson sputtered out a laugh. “If that’s what I had to rely on for virility, I’d let one of those werewolves throttle me. Gods.”
Natalia studied him for a long moment. She’d already washed the blood from her face and hands, and re-braided her long brown hair. It draped over her clean white shirt and black vest.
“Be careful what you wish for,” Natalia said, reverting to her writing.
Tyson swallowed hard, the taste of the sour wine lingering on his tongue. He’d met his cousin only once before coming to Chateau Rose. The only thing he’d known about her was the rumors that circled around court.
But Tyson had always thought the world of his Uncle Bastien.
The unmarried uncle who refused to obey court politics and scared the piss out of everyone he met.
He’d grown up hearing Uncle Marius tell stories of Bastien’s great victories, including his first one.
The one that earned a wayward second son from a small coven more votes than any other witch at The Choosing.
Natalia snapped her journal shut and tucked it back inside her vest. “They’re coming.”
Tyson sat up a little straighter in his chair and reluctantly moved his wine cup closer to him.
“Remember what I told you,” Natalia warned. She pointed a finger at his chest. “You might be heir, but I am second in command. I speak for Uncle Bastien when he is away. You will keep your mouth shut.”
The door to the small receiving room burst open, revealing a copper-haired witch in a tightly laced corset and a long, gauzy black skirt. Her lips were painted red, and her nails were painted black. Dark tattoos that resembled snake scales crept up both her arms.
Natalia stood, and Tyson did too.
“My Uncle thanks you for your hospitality,” Natalia said.
The Dark Witch smiled in a way that made Tyson think she found Natalia’s formalities funny. He grinned right back at her.
She gave him a long, unimpressed look, then promptly addressed Natalia. “Bastien thanks me with your mouth? How unlike your uncle.”
Tyson couldn’t help himself. “He would thank you with his own mouth, but it’s swollen shut at the moment.”
Natalia glowered at him. Then quickly forced a smile, addressing Chastity. “He was gravely injured in the battle to liberate the tunnels. And is resting as we speak.”
“Bastien? Resting?” she replied, studying her long black nails. “Didn’t he bring a blood bag with him?”
Tyson hid his laugh behind a cough. He thought the joke was funny, but his uncle wouldn’t.
“She was also injured,” Natalia forced herself to say. “My uncle is nothing if not chivalrous. He waits for her to be well enough to feed. Which is why we’ve come to treat with you in his place.”
Chastity sighed and frowned. “Well, if he is unavailable.”
She snatched the chair at the head of the table and spun it around.
With a flourish of her skirts, she widened her stance and lowered herself onto it slowly, revealing stocking-clad legs and knee-high leather boots.
She crossed her arms, leaned forward, and arched her brows, letting a slow, knowing smile hang in the air. “Well, go on. Treat then.”
Tyson fell in love. Well, not actually in love. He didn’t think it was possible for him to love anyone. Because no one ever saw past his perfectly crafted facade. And no one ever would. But his cock was another matter. He fell in love with many exquisite creatures over and over again.
And the fact that she was ignoring him was the cherry on top. He needed to turn his game up a notch. Because being charming and wooing lovers was just as good a distraction as liquor.
Natalia removed her journal from her vest and set it down on the table, then flipped open to a page. “On behalf of my uncle, the Duke of Roselyn, Prince of the Unified Territories—”
“Get to the point, Natalia,” Chastity cut in. “I don’t have all day to dally.”
“You should make the time,” Tyson said. The witch glanced his way. Her lovely gray eyes widening slightly. “To dally. That is.”
Natalia groaned, but Tyson took it as a good sign that Chastity seemed intrigued. Negotiations didn’t have to be boring.
“What’s your name again?” Chastity asked.
“I’m Tyson. Bastien’s heir.”
A faint crease appeared between her brows. “I didn’t think he had a son.”
“He doesn’t. I’m a court-appointed heir. The best of the best.”
“My, my.” She ran a tongue over her teeth, studying him in a way that made his cravat feel too tight. “And how old are you? I can never quite tell with vampires.”
“Old enough,” he replied automatically.
She made a small, noncommittal noise in the back of her throat.
“One day,” Chastity said, “when you’ve reached an appropriate age, however old that is for your kind, you’ll learn how to get your day’s worth of dallying done in an hour.
You see, at forty, I don’t have time to let a man dally around.
He needs to know how to get in and get out. ”
“Please excuse my cousin,” Natalia said. “He talks twice as much as warranted.”
“That’s alright. I like a man who can make me laugh. At him.” Chastity picked up Tyson’s cup of wine and drained it. “Now, I think you had some treating to do?”
Tyson let the comment roll off him like it didn’t matter and forced a lazy grin. However, it didn’t fit quite right on his face.
Natalia was back in her books. Trying to look official. “We request modest accommodations for our host. Two days should be plenty. Bastien would also like to acquire two relics, if you have any for purchase. And, of course, whatever information you have on the weres that were locked in the tunnel.”
Natalia’s pen hovered over the page of her journal, ready to record exactly what Chastity would say. Tyson glanced down at his empty cup of shit wine and his lack of preparation for this meeting, and another crack formed in his carefully curated mask.
“And what will I get for all of this?”
“We are prepared to negotiate your integration into the Unified Territories, protecting your land and people, as previously agreed upon.”
“Stop right there.” Chastity held up a hand. Tyson knew it was more than a gesture, but a roadblock. “I agreed to join the Unified Territories when Hector was at the negotiating table. Now we’ve got Shayla. And she’s hellbent on renewing the war.”
“What do you mean?” Natalia asked, scribbling.
Chastity’s lips peeled back over her crooked teeth. “You saw those abominations down in the tunnels.” Her fist hit the table, stilling Natalia’s pen. “Those are just the ones we trapped.”
Tyson finally understood what Uncle Bastien meant about the negotiations in the Lawless Lands. One witch dies, and it destabilizes everything.
“We understand things have changed,” Natalia replied without missing a beat. “Hector’s death is regrettable. But we believe we can offer you protection even without Shayla’s cooperation.”
“Your belief,” Chastity said slowly, “is not good enough. Not with werewolves crawling through my tunnels.”
Tyson understood the sentiment. He was currently nursing a werewolf scratch or two that hadn’t healed because he hadn’t fed yet. They were ruthless creatures.
The red-haired witch continued. “I’ve got it on good authority that your Blood Treaty is failing. That covens are breaking with it. And some are even trying to join us on this side.”
“Have you had any visitors?” his cousin asked. “Witches who want to join you?”
Chastity shrugged.
Tyson didn’t need vampiric senses to know his cousin was getting irritated. He saw it in the tightness around her mouth. Natalia struggled to keep a lid on her temper on a good day. This negotiation could go south fast.
“Well,” Natalia said tersely, “I can assure you there is no cause for concern. My family has maintained five centuries of unbroken peace.”
Chastity stood from her chair, walked around to where Natalia sat, and hopped up onto the table. One boot planted on the table top. “Well,” she said, mocking Natalia. She reached down and closed her journal with two fingers. “I’ve already secured my own protection.”
Normally, seeing someone as beautiful and dangerous as Chastity talk down to his rather snarky cousin would’ve brought him joy.
But this was about more than just a power play.
This was about the future he would soon inherit.
A peaceful border was far easier to manage than one at war.
And he didn’t like the way Chastity said protection.
Natalia sat back in her seat and folded her arms across her chest. All decorum gone. “What kind of protection?”
“You saw the werewolves down in the tunnels. Did they look a little… sick?”
The black saliva. The lesions. The horrible stench.
“I suppose,” Natalia conceded. “They had pock marks. But they were living in squalor.”
“No,” Chastity replied, tapping one of her long black nails against the top of Natalia’s journal. “That wasn’t squalor.” Her gray eyes flicked between them, savoring the reveal. “That was a demonic plague.”
Natalia rose from her chair so fast that it tumbled to the floor. “You made a deal with a demon?”
Uncle Bastien really wasn’t going to like this.
“No, little Natalia. I summoned one.”