CHAPTER 13
VEYA
Present Day
MY EMOTIONS STILL in chaos from the farm and the hunt, I watch King Nerian prance into his cellar.
If hell designed a pleasure den, it might pale in comparison to the theater I’m standing in.
In the freezing underground of the castle, cages laced in fire surround us. Twenty golden prisons designed to keep hungry vampires at bay and barely dressed human girls warm within them dot the expansive cellar, all of them blazing, apart from one in the far corner.
The vibrant red hair and not-yet-starved curves of the girl nearest me catch my attention, and her bright green eyes lock on to mine. There’s nothing but fight in them.
The siren within her calls to me.
I turn to Nerian and point. “I want that one.”
Emmanuel’s gaze flicks to me before he approaches another cage, following my lead. The soft, alert brown eyes of the girl behind the bars sear in my memory, a doe in a forest burning down around her. “I want this one,” he says, and the doe flinches at his words.
Nerian’s smile unleashes. “I knew my lifestyle would grow on you.”
I hum at him, keeping my fizzing temper held deep within. I peer up at Second beside me. “Which one for you?”
His chin jerks to me, and understanding flashes.
Second pins his hands behind his back, forcibly restraining himself, and then walks the cages like he owns the place, and I fucking love him for it.
“I’ll take both of these,” Second growls, his eyes locked on two cages, dark braided hair in one and blonde curls in the other.
“You can pick one,” Nerian scolds.
Second turns a raised eyebrow on the king. “You’re courting my queen and my kingdom. I’ll take both.”
Nerian pauses at the gall. Finally, he acquiesces. “Anything for Queen Veya and her second.”
“Excellent,” Second says, and his hands move like lightning through the fire that could kill him, ripping the door of the dark-haired girl’s cage off its hinges. Then he snaps, and the other barred cage door is slamming against the opposite wall faster than our eyes can track.
“Eager male,” Nerian says, salivating and eyes flashing crimson.
“Always has been,” I reply, my smile genuine as Second’s girls peer at him warily, scooting away from the opening.
Charlotte strides to the unlit, dark cage in the corner. I can barely see the girl curled and shivering in the back of it.
“What happened here?” Charlotte asks, her hands gripping the bars.
“Ah, Violet is a naughty girl. Tried to escape.”
How?!
Violet’s eyes flash into the room, and bright plum sparks through the dark. Eyes like Del’s.
“Show yourself, Violet,” Nerian drawls, practically drooling on himself.
Frail, pale fingers grip the bars as Violet pulls herself into view, her raven-black hair and strong jawline make my breath catch as I stare at Del’s spitting image.
Holy gods.
I leash any reaction. And I don’t dare look over at Del and draw Nerian’s attention.
“I’ll take the naughty girl,” Charlotte coos, drumming her fingertips along the bars in a taunt, and her fangs pop from her gums.
Gods, she’s brilliant.
Desperate to get these girls out of here as soon as possible, I approach the siren. Her red-orange curls rival the flame licking around her.
“Will you join me in my rooms?” I beckon.
Her green eyes find mine again, emeralds gleaming in an abandoned mine.
“It would be my pleasure,” she slurs, and my heart cracks for the drugged girl.
Nerian approaches the cage beside my siren and presses a mechanism that douses the fire and opens the door, the woman within cross-legged and ignoring him. He grabs her ankle and yanks her out of the cage, dragging her along behind him.
“If they’re not turned or dead by sunset, it’s your heads,” he tells us as he hoists his girl up the stairwell and leaves us in his cellar, her soft pleas growing faint, and my soul mourning that I couldn’t save her.
Or the others—fourteen cages are still filled.
I scan them, determination settling in my bones. We’ll get them out, too.
Soon.
We all stand in stillness until we know Nerian has gone. Just the flicker of flame and the hiss of fuel until his footsteps disappear.
And in a blink, Del darts for the darkened cage, ripping the door off.
The whimper from Violet as she crashes into his arms threatens my sanity for the millionth time today.
I barge into our suite, the siren barely conscious in my arms.
Second ushers his two girls to the sofa near the fireplace and tosses logs into the hearth, quickly lighting them.
Cradling his doe, Emmanuel carries her toward the roaring warmth, her face hiding in his leathers. My assassin stands before the fire, and I’ve never seen him so still unless he’s about to kill someone. He doesn’t set her down, and it’s a rare moment of tenderness from Em.
I place my siren on the sofa next to Second’s girls, sweeping back the strawberry flame of hair from her emerald eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“Sophie,” she slurs, eyelids heavy.
“Why don’t you rest for a bit, Sophie,” I say and ease her back into the cushions.
She curls herself in the corner.
Turned or dead by sunset.
I storm to the window, throw open the steel shutters and then the windowpane, and breathe deeply. My eyes find the stars I memorized long ago, and I trace the pattern in my mind, trying to calm myself with familiarity and soothe insufferable frustration.
“He plays with us because he plans to kill us,” Second says grimly. “There’s no doubt there. We’re not intended to walk away with this knowledge.”
“Obviously,” Charlotte replies, coming to stand beside me, her arm snaking my waist. I lean my head against her shoulder.
The suite door kicks open, and we whip around.
Del marches into our suite, Violet passed out in his arms. He lays her on the settee and beckons me with a jerk of his chin toward my room.
“We need to have a conversation,” he says, face tight above his perfect suit.
I narrow my eyes at the male.
Yes, we do.
I sweep past him into my bedchamber, and his footsteps follow.
We face each other at opposite ends as the door thuds closed. The space between us feels like a battlefield to cross, but I’m unsure if this male is my enemy or my ally.
Curbing my temper, I start with a reasonable question. “Who is Violet to you?”
“Her name isn’t Violet,” Del growls. “The king names them after their eyes.”
I swallow my disgust. “Understood. What is her name, and who is she to you, Del?”
His eyes meet mine, and after a breath, his shoulders droop. “Her name is Aurelia, and she’s my great-granddaughter.”
Which means he had a child when he was human, however long ago that was. Gods.
“Does the king know that?”
He shakes his head.
“Good.” I sigh. “First things first: What are we doing with these women?” I ask, hoping I get the answer I want.
Del doesn’t pause before responding. “We get them out. If they want to turn, we’ll give it to them. But otherwise, we’re getting them back to their families.”
I offer him an approving nod. “We are in agreement.”
He steps away from the door, closing a few feet of our distance. “Good.”
Time to be bold.
“How do you stand by with all of that horror under your fucking feet, Del?”
I watch his throat track down a swallow, his gaze piercing.
“I’ve been waiting for my chance. But I can’t influence Nerian or the entire court alone,” Del says calmly and takes another step toward me.
“I’ve tried to find a way. I swear it. But vampire nobles love the way things are.
How easy it is to maintain the control they’ve bred and orchestrated over the centuries. I am one man.”
He rakes back the hair from his eyes and scrubs at his face, exhaustion radiating.
“I understand that challenge,” I offer. “You’re kind, Del. And nothing like the vampires here. Why are you second in Goreon? How are you second? Nerian dislikes you.”
Del snorts. “I won the position.”
Oh, this is going to be good.
“Please explain,” I laugh, sagging under the weight of my snow-soaked gown and collapsing onto the edge of the bed.
“Nerian killed his last second. I don’t know why. And then he hosted a series of trials for the replacement. Any nobleman could participate.”
So he is a nobleman.
I loosen the laces of the corset that has me stuck upright and uncomfortable. “What were the trials?”
Del’s gaze flicks to my bodice, the corner of his mouth lifting. “Nothing complicated. Just a fight to the death.”
My lips part.
“I killed seven noblemen for my position as second.”
Impressive.
“What is your goal? Tell me what you want,” I demand, my eyes pinned to his.
He doesn’t hesitate. “To kill Nerian and end the injustices in Goreon. With your help, of course.”
I try not to let my eyebrows hit the ceiling as the treasonous words of the Goreon king’s second whip through the room.
And my silence perches us on a knife’s edge.
“You can trust me,” he says, and I search his face for any hint of deception.
There is none. But it’s never wise to trust a Goreon vampire.
I sigh. “We all know trust is earned. And even then, there’s still a chance you’re just playing the long game,” I say, trying to think through this revelation and what to do about it.
I tear at the bodice of my freezing dress I can’t stand to be under anymore.
“Entrapment isn’t something I’m interested in, Del. ”
His eyes track my efforts, my undergarments peeking through the fabric, and I twirl a finger at him.
Del turns around so I can shed the heavy, suffocating, commanding-colored gown.
I struggle with the back button loops.
“Do you need help?” Del offers, and I can hear his smirk.
“I’ve got it,” I bark and step out of the harmless-looking prison and slip on my dressing cloak, shoulders drooping in relief. “You can turn around.”