CHAPTER 7
VEYA
Present Day
OUR CARRIAGES ARE BARELY paused outside the black stone castle when the steps fill with Goreon courtiers and guards snapping into existence.
“Here we fucking go,” Second growls and exits the carriage.
I try to keep my nerves in check. The opportunity I’ve been working toward is here, and I can’t mess it up. Every innocent life is at stake, in this kingdom and ours.
I plaster on a confident expression and emerge.
My heeled boot lands on royal Goreon grounds, and then the other, and I bask briefly in the moment of this milestone while staring upward at countless spires needling into the snowy night sky.
“Queen Veya of the Night Kingdom, we welcome you,” a male says in a tone I’m certain is not genuine.
I shift my gaze from the imposing fortress, blinking snowflakes from my lashes, and I’m met with his red eyes piercing me with disdain above his armor and forced smile.
“I’m General Balor. You can follow me.”
I know who he is. He’s been Nerian’s henchman as long as I’ve been alive.
Second positions himself inches from my side, Charlotte and Emmanuel behind us, and our guards beyond them.
The frosty chill clings to my skin, a numbness I’m unsure will fade as we climb the stone steps of Goreon Castle, wind blowing my cloak and biting at my eyes.
I haven’t felt bitter cold like this in a long time.
The bleak weather magnifies the sneers and smirks around us, my gaze snagging on frigid, unwelcoming faces.
Like they all have a secret of their own, too.
General Balor saunters down an ornate grand foyer, and the walls are a twisting blend of carved ebony stone and thick veins of gold, a swirling fire in the night.
It’s admittedly striking. And almost as beautiful as my own castles.
But unlike the Night Kingdom, Goreon didn’t build their wealth on the backs of those who could bear the weight; they built it on the spines and from the pockets of their humans.
“The east wing is our guest quarters. I’ll escort you there first, and then you have a session with the king and dinner afterward.”
General Balor’s orders grate along my skin.
No one tells me what to do.
Second tilts his chin to look over at me as his hand skirts to his hilt. He knows that, too. But we’re guests here, and I plan to play nice until I can’t.
“That sounds just fine,” I say, agreeing with the agenda.
General Balor glances back at me, eyes narrowed. “It wasn’t a suggestion,” he informs sternly.
Well, I’ll play nice with boundaries.
I smile pleasantly at the male. “General Balor, everything out of your mouth is a suggestion when you address a queen.”
His lips part, and he jerks his chin forward, lifting it higher than it was five seconds ago.
Balor has something to prove, and I’m looking forward to putting him in his place during my visit.
We trail Goreon guards to the east wing, my heart stuttering all over the fucking place as my eyes leap to every corner and open doorway for threats, for horrors known to exist here. But there are no drained bodies or snarling, feral vampires, just a very long walk amongst lavish wealth.
Finally, we’re ushered into a series of royal rooms with a central parlor.
“We’ll be back to collect you in an hour,” Balor states and doesn’t wait for a response before snapping his way down the unending hallway.
It’s an affront to my station, a clear one. This invitation has nothing to do with respect or a desire to see me as their queen, exactly as I expected.
He’ll learn to watch his mouth before this is all over.
Emmanuel lets out a sigh like he flew over an entire kingdom and collapses on the sofa. “That was stressful, and we just got here.”
Charlotte sheds her coat and tosses herself next to him, and he loops an arm around her shoulders, hand squeezing her bare arm.
“You need a bath,” she says, wrinkling her nose.
Emmanuel sniffs himself. “Told you I was stressed out.”
“You’re an assassin. How do you get stressed out?” she laughs.
“Swords and words are very, very different weapons, Char.”
She snorts, leaning her head against his shoulder. It’s such a rarity to see vampires touch—a single touch to the skin can trigger an eternal bond between us. But Charlotte and Emmanuel tested that boundary decades ago, fairly sure they wouldn’t bond.
And they didn’t.
Just like Second and I tested it a century ago. We didn’t need any surprises, and we prayed to every god that fate didn’t want us aligned in that way.
They listened. For once.
Second opens the tall double doors to an adjoining suite and then through to another.
“Veya is in the middle. We’ll take the rooms on either side,” he says, slinging my five-foot dressing chest toward my room like he’s carrying around a pillow.
“Come, my queen,” Charlotte coos, skirting past me. “Let’s get you dressed to dine with the King of Goreon.”
I’ll be lucky if I keep anything down in his presence, my desire to slice off his head included.
General Balor yanks the gilded throne doors apart, and my eyes catch on the ancient king draped over his seat in an obscene amount of furs and black velvet.
I want to rip his throat out.
But the love I have for the Night Kingdom and all of the souls within it, the duty I swore to uphold, keeps my instant rage in check. The moment needs to be right. We need to be strategic.
You don’t crush a millennium-long rule with rash action, and I cannot afford to fail, especially to emotional whims. Nerian’s faster than me, aged well beyond my years.
It must be a team effort. So I’ll play along, show restraint, and we’ll take King Nerian once an opening presents itself and we understand just how disadvantaged we are against his ancient strength.
Second keeps pace with me down the long, decadent hall, with the king’s court loitering and staring with rapt attention.
My gaze flits about the massive, high-ceilinged throne room, arches pulling my eyes to the chandeliers lining the length of the hall, their crystal filtered light in a dazzling display around us.
None of it feels like it belongs together; the evil that is known to breed here and the stunning, vast castle shouldn’t be such intimate companions.
Chin held high, I let my top lip curl somewhere between a snarl and an alluring smile.
I met Nerian briefly, long ago. I doubt he even remembers.
The king doesn’t bother to sit upright, his slicked blond hair glowing in the candlelight. I’m sure many find him handsome, but all I see is death and corruption.
“Queen Veya, your reputation precedes you,” he says, petting the fur across his lap, staring at the ceiling.
How does he know anything about my reputation?
I hum at him as we come to a stop at the base of the dais. “I can say the same, King Nerian.”
He sits up finally, his hand littered with extravagant bejeweled rings, gripping the arm of his throne to pull himself upright, and then his arms spread wide in greeting. “Ah! Yes. I can’t wait to show you what I’ve accomplished as we join our kingdoms into one glorious rule.”
“That’s presumptuous of you,” I retort, offering a slight bow.
He returns it with a tilt of his pointed chin and a garish grin. “I enjoy a challenge. I’ll win you over in the end.”
I nod demurely through my disgust and hatred. “I’m honored by your upcoming efforts.”
The Goreon king jerks his head to the side. “This is my second, Deleos.”
My gaze flits to the most gods-blessed vampire I’ve ever laid eyes on as a male steps out of the shadows. Raven black hair, a jawline that could cut stone, muscles sculpted and stretching his fine suiting are captivating, but it’s his bright plum eyes that have me mesmerized.
And they’re looking right at me.
“It’s Del, actually,” he drawls, and his soothing voice reaches in and grabs my attention.
King Nerian glowers at his second, the corner of Del’s mouth pinching into an intoxicating smirk.
Nerian’s second pushing back at him makes me deliriously satisfied.
What an unexpected moment.
I drag my eyes back to the king before I have to pick my jaw up off the dais.
With a polite clear of my throat, I turn to my second, waving a hand toward him. “This is Second.”
The king’s eyebrows perch at his hairline, and then his upper lip curls before his words slur out. “Ruthless queen. Won’t even let your court have names.”
I don’t correct him. I am ruthless when I need to be.
He licks his lips, eyes running up my bodice. “An enticing choice for a wife.”
Second steps forward with a hiss, a pace before me. “Not on the table.”
The king glares at Second. “You’re an assertive one, aren’t you?”
I raise my hand. “I look forward to our discussions,” I say vaguely, keeping tempers at bay for now.
Second’s head jerks to me, and with great effort, I ignore him. Nothing was going to stop me from this visit, even if it meant keeping the contents of the letter private.
Bold and brave.
With all that I am.
The king clicks his tongue. “Let’s dine, shall we?”
“I fucking hate this guy already,” Charlotte whispers into my ear before stepping toward the king and cooing, “I’m starved.”
I turn to look at her, pinching my lips to suppress my grin.
She tosses King Nerian a sweet smile.
Charlotte’s conniving and manipulation will have the best at any court wondering what happened when she’s done with them. She’s been integral in wooing and distracting my foreign princes’ companions while I worked on the larger target.
Nerian’s gaze rakes her up and down next. “You’re a lovely thing. Do you have a name?”
She bows deeply to her knee, gown pooling around her and breasts spilling over green silk.
“Charlotte, my king,” she purrs, her bright blue eyes drinking him in.
“It’s a pleasure, Charlotte,” Nerian drawls as he stands from his throne, his slim build drowning in fur. “And who is your other companion, Queen Veya?”
Emmanuel steps to my side.
“I always travel with my most entertaining attendants. This is Emmanuel.”
Nerian eyes Emmanuel, and my assassin offers him a curt nod.