CHAPTER 9 #2
I fall back on the bed. “I’d prefer to only risk myself until we’ve exhausted every option.” I wave a hand in the air. “You can always take over if I miss the mark.”
Second yanks me by the ankle, and I bolt upright to face down his finger in my face. “Remember who you are, Veya,” he commands. “We go before you do. In every life, godsdamnit.”
I close my eyes to shut out my reality for a moment. But the stillness only heightens the sensation of Christine’s blood coursing through me. I despise myself.
My gasping cry escapes before I can stop it.
I open my eyes, fangs out. “I still feel her. I can’t do this,” I say, my voice cracking.
A girl is dead, and the only consequence is ecstasy rocketing through me.
This is why vampires lose themselves to bloodlust.
I can see why now.
Second assesses me for a brief moment, then abruptly tosses me over his shoulder, strides into the bathing room, and flips on the wall fountain.
He walks us under a freezing sheet of ice water and stands there with me drooping over him.
Each chilled drop feels like a ping of reality against my skin, pelting away at the pleasure consuming me.
“It won’t last forever,” Second whispers as I sag against him, the heat blazing down my core finally cools.
After several minutes, I pat his shoulder, and he sets me down.
I peer up at Second, recovered and drenched, water cascading down soaked black silk. “We were supposed to scout the west wing while everyone was resting today.”
Second smirks at me. “I’m still up for it.”
And I’m desperate for a worthwhile distraction.
“Let’s get some dry clothes on, then.”
Second looks warily at me. “You good?”
I nod, trying to ignore how shaken I feel, and he spins on his heel to get changed.
Killing the fountain, I step off the tile onto the fine carpet of my bedchamber, stripping my dress as I go. I opt for a thick sweater and leather trousers and stuff my feet into tall boots.
“Ready?” Second asks, peeking in as I thread another gilded wooden pin into my bun.
“Ready.”
We snap down the east wing hallways and stairwells to the center corridor, skirting by human daylight guards with ease, and land at the edge of the west wing.
“Emmanuel said there are two main corridors that intersect at their end; he believes Nerian’s rooms are beyond that. These halls are galleries, drawing rooms, and offices. But that’s as far as he got,” Second whispers.
I snort. “Of course Em’s already been down here.”
Second looks at me. “He made use of his time after dinner.”
As any good assassin for the crown would.
“All right, let’s each take a hall to confirm and meet at the end. Then we try to find Nerian’s chambers from there.”
Second posts his hands on his hips. “In what gods-blessed world are we splitting up?”
I roll my eyes. “Em scouted these halls, but I need to ensure there’s nothing of interest here. I want to check the offices, learn what we can.”
“Which we can do together.”
I shake my head at Second in frustration. “We’ve already lost time today, and I don’t know how long we’re going to be here, given how difficult the first few hours have been. This could be our only shot.”
Second groans at my reasoning. “I already know I’m going to regret this.”
I start moving down my hallway before Second can change his mind. “See you on the other side in twenty.”
Snapping to the first door, I let myself in.
A drawing room—with surprisingly stunning artwork. I wonder who painted these as I run a finger along a frame’s edge, the manicured garden blooming with spring and dappled in moonlight, the depiction of Goreon Castle in its background not nearly as ominous-looking as it is now.
I abandon the painting and slip back into the hall and through the next door.
First office.
Beelining for the desk, I yank open the top drawers and riffle through papers, scanning scrawled cursive and crests.
Correspondence with the Old Tritan territory, dated only a decade ago.
Interesting. And noted.
The Night Kingdom will be paying a visit to our eastern mountains.
My spine tingles as I leaf through more communication from across the Sereia Sea and territories north of Goreon. Perhaps correspondence between regions is more common than I thought. Perhaps it’s just the Night Kingdom that has been cut off.
Shit.
I slam the drawers shut and move to the cabinet on the wall.
Ledgers and banking. Many of Nerian’s nobles are in debt to the king. Also noted.
My twenty minutes are disappearing quickly.
I sprint back into the hall and snap to the next door, hand on the knob—
The slap of bare footsteps on stone freezes me in place, and I pause in a shadow as Nerian patters down a hall to my left.
Oh my gods.
I ready to follow him, pulling a pin from my bun.
I won’t try to kill him, but I want to see where he’s going in his bare feet in the middle of the fucking day. I truly thought everyone would be in rest right now, and I’ll take this unexpected opportunity without hesitation.
Nerian disappears around the corner, and I step forward quietly to tail him.
Panic spins down my spine as I’m grabbed from behind and pushed up against the wall.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Del snarls in a whisper, his lips a breath from mine, bright eyes searching for an answer from me.
He’s stronger, and his hips have me pinned to the marble at my back.
The scent of him hits me—first, the sensual traces of jasmine and cinnamon, then a warm, woodsy pine curls around me.
And the grip of his fingertips at my waist plumes desire I’m not prepared for, and my insides twist against my will. Heart racing, I stare into his eager plum eyes that hold fear, not malice.
Del’s hand braces on the wall beside me, caging me in like he’s trying to hide me from sight. “Nerian will kill you without blinking, Queen Veya.”
I already know that.
I swallow, lips parting as my gaze flicks to Del’s mouth, and I press a hand to his firm chest, pushing him away to catch my breath.
I’m here to kill a king, not be distracted by stunning gentlemen.
Del steps back, and I don’t miss the graze of his fingertips along my hip before his hand drops to his side.
The sensation of his touch lingers.
Del’s eyes flash. “Why are you in the west wing? Please speak.”
“What’s all this?”
I suppress a groan at the sound of Balor’s demanding voice, and my pleading eyes connect with Del’s.
His mouth quirks into a playful grin before disappearing into a neutral expression. Del spins to face Balor, his disheveled black hair falling into his eyes.
Goreon’s second puts himself between the general and me.
But it’s my fault we’re in this, and I need to rescue us both.
I edge around Del. “I couldn’t sleep. I took myself for a walk.”
Balor rolls his eyes at me. “You’re pretty, but, unfortunately, not dumb. Why are you in the west wing, Queen?”
This man has a serious problem with women.
“Come off it, Balor. We had a drink in my chambers,” Del says. “She was a mess after dinner.”
That’s a decent lie.
I force a sway, sidestepping into Del, and he catches my sweatered elbow with perfect timing.
“Easy, Queen. Liquor and blood hit hard,” Balor laughs. “I can’t wait to tell the king about this secret dalliance tonight.”
“There’s nothing secret about it,” Del says. “We’re in the damn hallway, General.”
Balor ignores Del. “Where’s your second?” General Balor looks down the hall behind me. “I’m surprised the brute let you out of his sight.”
Few things make me boil with anger after the life I’ve lived, but insulting Second is one of them. Thankfully, Balor thinks I’m drunk. I can act out with some leniency.
“Don’t be a dick, Balor. I’ll put you in your place,” I slur. Del’s chin turns sharply to me, eyes on fire with maybe a little malice this time.
Balor’s pallid face flushes as he takes a step toward me, and Del’s fingertips wrap around my arm, pulling me into him.
I try not to be distracted by the strong hips pressing into my leathered backside, or the fact that I want to melt into the stone chest behind me.
I kind of feel a little drunk, actually.
“Watch your mouth,” Balor growls.
“You can’t speak to a queen that way,” I insist.
“Says who?” he asks with a sneer, spinning around in the empty hallway.
“Says me, asshole,” Second bellows from behind us. “Get your hand off her, Del. Right the fuck now.”
Del drops me instantly, and my step lurches.
I feel woozy. Like a hangover, but different.
Second snaps next to me, and I prop myself into his side.
“I was just about to deliver her back to your rooms,” Del drawls at Second. “She had a bit too much, I’m afraid.”
“I see. How disappointing,” Second says, shaking his head at me.
An honest reaction for the situation I’ve put us in.
“The first intelligent thing you’ve said,” Balor chirps, and Second’s face whips to him.
Second doesn’t say anything else. Which, if Balor knew him better, doesn’t bode well for their future interactions.
“Come, my queen,” Second says and pulls me away as I look over my shoulder at them.
“Get some rest, Queen Veya,” Del calls after us, his smirk lighting a fire inside me that’s going to require another icy shower.
My eyes blink open as the sun sets.
I’m still foggy. But I didn’t drink the champagne.
Christine.
Reality crashes down on me, the weight of a bloodlust hangover encases me in something akin to shame. Because I promised myself and everyone in my trusted circle that I would never take a life in that way. We all know I did what was needed, but it was never supposed to happen.
And Christine is dead for no reason other than for her to be Nerian’s appetizer.
My rage burns like a brilliant star blinking at me in a sea of darkness. And I’m ready to wrangle it from the sky and douse Goreon in its fire.
I suppress a sob threatening to choke its way out of me, and my gaze lands on Second sprawled on a featherbed on my floor. Rising, I quietly pad around him so he can rest a bit longer. I don my dressing gown, strap my daggers to my thighs, and emerge into the sitting room of our suites.
Emmanuel glances up from the blade he’s sharpening, lips stretched into a thin line.
When we met, the words it took to convince Emmanuel to join me were few. “I’ve never drained a human, and I’ve only ever turned one other, and he’s my second.”
Of course, since then, I’ve turned several more, like Charlotte. But only because they begged, and who was I to deny their decision for their own life?
This day is testing all of us. A broken promise lingers between Em and I, no matter how justified or humane the choice was.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, my chest unbearably tight. I can’t stand the thought of disappointing Em.
He sets his blade on the marble table, the faint clack of steel on stone the only sound in the room. Emmanuel stands and crosses to me. “You’ve proven yourself more times than I can count. You don’t owe me an apology for an impossible choice, Veya.”
I nod as his words lay down a bridge between us and release a shuddering breath, trying to banish my sorrow and disappointment.
Charlotte yawns her way through the doorframe from her room and starts when she notices us, arms paused overhead. “How are you feeling?” she asks softly, arms dropping and mouth quirking into a hopeful smile.
I choose to tap into my rage instead of my depression. “Like a queen who needs to get to work.”
Charlotte grins. “I packed you the perfect dress for that.”
I follow Charlotte into her room and suppress a laugh as I glance around at what she’s accomplished in a day—a makeup station laid out, jewelry and crowns arranged on a table, and gowns strung up with boot and heel options beneath.
She struts over to my outfits lined against the wall, choosing a rich burgundy ballgown, the wide halter neckline designed to cover the turn marks at my neck.
“A commanding color,” she says, fingers trailing along the velvet bodice studded with rubies and pink pearls before she plucks it from the hanger.
“I agree.”
“What’s your goal today?” she asks as I step into the pooled gown.
“To get a tour. I want to know this place like it’s our own.” Between the surprising correspondence in the office and getting nowhere in the west wing, we need more intel.
Charlotte drags the heavy train to the side and positions herself behind me to secure the buttons down my spine. “How in the gods are we going to convince them of that?”
My petite shoulders bounce under hushed laughter. “I’m still working on a plan.”
Charlotte hums at me while she buttons. “This dress is lovely. You look stunning.”
“Let’s hope Nerian feels the same. I have no idea what he’s thinking after last night. I hope I didn’t ruin our welcome here.”
I turn around as she pats my waist with the last secured loop.
“Why is Nerian bothering with all this? Why doesn’t he just attack the Night Kingdom?” she asks, dipping her finger in the perfume on the nearby dressing table and then sweeping it over my collarbone.
I huff. “I’ve been wondering the same. I think he’s bored and playing with his prey first.”
But he’s invited a warrior into his den. And I will dismantle it piece by piece.
Charlotte dresses herself in peacock blue, her eyes setting off against the color.
“Well, let’s keep him distracted and his appetite whet, then,” she purrs, drawing red onto her lips.
I smile at her optimism. “We’re going to need a lot more than a commanding-colored gown.”