CHAPTER 17
VEYA
Present Day
WE STAND BEFORE the blazing pyre, mourning Aurelia and Samantha.
Huddled together, Hartley, Nix, and Ellie shed convincing tears and distraught cries for their cellar companions all these years.
Second and Charlotte left with Aurelia and Samantha a few hours ago, slipping into the tree line a mile from castle grounds. And I can barely breathe under the stress of it.
Del is frozen, a statue of striking perfection as his stony gaze refuses to move from the forest beyond.
“Del,” I whisper.
“The not knowing is going to rip my fucking heart out,” he breathes, just over the sound of the surging pyre and howling wind swirling through our cloaks.
I nod at him, barely able to focus on anything but Second, Charlotte, and the girls. With a few more hours of night left, Second and Charlotte will need to shelter for the day and lock themselves away for the full moon. Which means our girls are on their own at dawn.
“Second and Charlotte will protect them for as long as they have them. I swear it.”
Del still doesn’t move. “I know,” he utters, breath pluming before us.
“Where do you think they are right now?” I ask him, my mind running wild.
“They should be an hour from the stable I sent them to. And their shelter is nearby.”
“Good,” I say, my voice drowned out by the roar and pop of the bonfire, which reaches into the sky so high I have to crane my neck to see the tips of the flames.
Del’s chin dips, his focus in the snow as he inhales deeply and then blows out a slow exhale. Determined, amethyst eyes spark at me through the darkness before he says, “We should continue our conversation regarding our mutual interest.”
Yes. We should.
“Agreed,” I say and stare into the flaming empty grave, the sharp snapping of burnt logs striking nerves down my spine, and I try to muster hope to counter it, to sustain me through the day ahead. I try to find a bearable baseline because Del is going to need one of us with our head straight.
A throat clears from behind us, and Del and I spin to see General Balor scowling at us.
“What is it, Balor?” Del demands in a voice I haven’t heard from him, his demeanor flipping from concerned to callous instantly.
Balor hesitates, and I’m thrilled Del sets this male on edge. “The king requests an audience with Queen Veya.” Emmanuel steps next to me, and Balor’s gaze slides to him. “Alone,” he clarifies.
“That seems unnecessary,” I say. “Surely he can’t expect such an intimate conversation so soon?”
Balor sneers at me. “I’m not privy to his intentions, Queen. But I’m sure, whatever they may be, are … deserved.”
I leash a snarl and glare at Balor.
“Let’s get you to the king then,” Del says in a chipper voice, striding past all of us toward the castle.
I appreciate Del’s unassuming chaperone and keep my face neutral under Balor’s focus still pinned to me.
“Girls, go to my suite,” I tell them, and they shuffle off together.
“I’m by your side until I can’t be,” Em says, and we follow Balor, who’s turned on his heel.
“You always end up where you need to be. I’m not worried,” I say, despite the dread building in my chest.
Emmanuel keeps a pace ahead as I follow the line of males to the looming stronghold, its blackened facade darker than the pitch night it stands in.
Balor struts through the grand doors of the antechamber.
“You’ll wait here,” he tells Emmanuel, and my assassin steps into shadow and disappears.
I follow Del into the throne room, which is empty of Nerian’s court; only guards and the king are present.
Del is an unexpected comfort, drowning my insecurities with his confident stride and intentional presence for this audience with evil.
Nerian is draped over his throne haphazardly, lying on his back and playing absently with his tooth necklace. He traces his fingers along the teeth dangling in front of his face, and I have to work to keep my face neutral.
“My king,” Balor calls, trying to wrangle his attention, but Nerian just grins at his necklace dancing in the candlelight.
Del ascends the dais and peers over him.
“King Nerian,” he drawls.
Nerian jerks to attention. “Ah! You’re herrrrre,” he slurs.
“Drunk on blood and wine from your cellar, it seems,” Del says, his second persona a well-worn mask.
“Did you turn your girlsss—” Nerian slogs his body around to sit up in his throne, drunk eyes raking over me.
I curtsy slightly. “We enjoyed them greatly and turned three. The other two are burning outside as we speak. Second lost control.”
Nerian’s laughter scrapes along my skin. “I knew he was starving. That’s just fantassstic.” He rolls onto his side, clinging to his throne, and Del steps away right before the king vomits on the dais.
Wine runs down the steps toward me, and I shift to the side to avoid it.
Nerian has destroyed himself.
“We can leave you to your evening, my king,” Del says, eyes shifting to mine.
“Yes, good. Fetch me replacements for the cellar to review next week,” he says, sobriety claiming him for a moment as his eyes flash in pleasure with talk of his cellar.
It requires all of my control to keep my face blank while my rage is boiling beneath my skin. I refuse to let any more replacements end up there.
The king focuses on the teeth dangling in his grasp as Del joins me at the foot of the dais, saying quietly, “He always drinks before the full moon”
“Does he take the serum?” I ask.
Del looks at me. “Surprisingly, no.”
I hum in thought. “Evil doesn’t sprout from nowhere,” I say. “Perhaps he needs to walk amongst whatever fuels it.”
Del glances up at Nerian. “He’s done for the night. He’s piss-drunk.”
A visiting queen isn’t even enough motivation to restrain himself.
I wonder if we could kill him now, but there are a hundred guards surrounding us, and Charlotte and Second are gone.
“Let’s get out of here,” Del says, leading the way.
Balor waits for us as we approach the antechamber. “Where are you two going?”
Del pauses, his hand gently brushing at my hip to keep me back, which seems dramatic until I notice Balor’s hand on his hilt, and I’m surprised there isn’t a low growl coming from his throat to go with the look on his face.
“Why is that your business?” Del demands.
Balor scoffs. “The king has made everything my business. And I intend to follow my orders to the letter.”
“Which are?” Del asks, raising an eyebrow at the general.
Balor looks at the ceiling to recall the words he memorized. “Keep the queen in line. And if she gives you any trouble—” He dips his chin and looks right at me. “Just kill her already.”
“Those aren’t your orders,” Del laughs.
I’m not so sure Del is correct as I stare into Balor’s taunting gaze.
“As of twenty minutes ago, they are.”
Del scoffs. “And when have we ever taken Nerian’s drunk words in the hours before a full moon seriously?”
Balor sneers at us. “There’s always a first time.”
“Like Queen Veya said, Balor. Don’t be a dick.” Del’s hand finds the small of my back, and he guides me through the chamber, buzzing energy firing through me while I try to tamp my smirk. We snap toward my rooms, Em joining us from nowhere.
“Balor is the fucking worst,” I snarl under my breath outside our suite.
Del chuckles. “Try living with him.”
Em pauses at our door. “Where’s the court? Castle seems pretty empty.”
“Full moon. They’ve all escaped to their estates,” Del says.
Em snorts as we enter. The girls are waiting here like I asked, and I’m thankful to find them showered, clothed, and unbothered on the sofa, feet propped up in front of the fire. Charlotte’s closet has been put to excellent use.
We need to prepare them for the next twenty-four hours.
“Ladies, your first dreamwalk is in about twelve hours. You’ll lose control over your body and mind. Your memories will take over and become your reality. There is nothing you can do,” I say.
“We know,” Nix says, tying up her fiery hair. “The king often chose the cellar for his dreamwalking. He’d flip off the fire so he didn’t burn himself, and we’d practically freeze to death the entire night.”
I cringe at the thought of Nerian out of his mind and the girls within his grasp. “I see. I’m sure Del can offer serum if you prefer to be unconscious.”
Hartley smiles. “I’ll always take the chance I’m thrown into a good memory. No serum for me.”
Ellie’s sad eyes look up from the fireplace into mine. “I’d rather be unconscious.”
“I’ll get you some serum,” Del says gently.
“For you, Nix?” I ask.
She sighs. “I’ll take my chances with the walk. I’d love to see my mother again.”
I give her an approving nod. I always take my chances, too.
“Daylight is upon us shortly, and we haven’t slept in a while. Let’s rest before the full moon,” I tell everyone.
Emmanuel secures the shutters as Del rakes back the hair that’s flopped into his eyes; all of us are a little unkempt at this point. “I should return to the west wing,” he says. “It would be odd for me to remain here for this sleep.”
“Of course. We’ll be fine,” I assure him and gesture to Emmanuel.
Del nods. “Ladies, come with me. I will see you to separate, locked rooms where you can sleep and dreamwalk in private. And I’ll get you something to drink.”
Ellie wrinkles her nose.
“It’s not terrible, and your body needs it,” Del says.
“Fine,” Ellie sighs and crosses the room to us, Nix following. But Hartley snaps in front of me, inches from my face, and her eyes blow wide.
“Oh my gods, sorry. Too close,” she says, stumbling back.
A brief pause extends before Del and I break into hysterical laughter.
“It’ll take a while to practice your aim and spacing, Hartley,” Del says through his throaty laugh.
My eyes water in my joy of the innocent moment.
Emmanuel approaches her, gaze roaming Hartley up and down. “Snapping on command your first day is very impressive,” he praises, and I try to keep my jaw off the ground. I’ve never heard the male compliment anyone.
“Perhaps your trajectory as an assassin for the Night Kingdom is a wise choice,” I say.
Emmanuel’s narrowed eyes find mine. “No one said anything about assassin,” he retorts.
Emmanuel rarely argues with me on anything not to do with my safety. So rare, I think it’s been a few decades. “I won’t deny talent the position it deserves. We’ll see what comes of her.”
“Well, I’d at least like a shot at it,” Hartley says, tossing her hands on her hips between us as Emmanuel and I stare at one another.
Em finally gives up and walks off.
“You’ll get your shot,” I promise her, and Hartley bows deeply before following Del, Nix, and Ellie out of my rooms.
As soon as the door snicks shut, Emmanuel is back and pacing—another rarity.
“What is wrong with you?”
He halts and faces me. “What if she’s my mate?”
I roll my eyes. “Come on, Em. The odds of that are close to zero.”
“I can’t have my mate as an assassin for the crown. I won’t be able to focus.”
My eyebrows raise. I’m surprised by his assuredness and his admission to distraction. “You don’t know what she is to you.”
He starts pacing again. “I’m drawn to her. It’s scaring the shit out of me. I can’t ignore that and hope for the fucking best.”
I splay my hands, desperate to understand how he sees the future. “So what, we’re just going to lock her in a tower to keep her safe until you feel up to testing out a bond? Or better yet, if she is your mate, you’re going to abandon your life’s work and run away together?”
His body stills next to the roaring hearth, but he doesn’t respond, which means neither option is off the table.
I try a different tack. “Or, as mates, you’ll be unstoppable. Your ability to communicate without speaking, your physical knowledge of each other through the bond. There are numerous advantages.”
“You’re forgetting the best part, Veya,” he says, tone rigid as his eyes slide to mine. “My death is her death, and hers is mine.”
That’s not always the case from what we’ve learned from other vampires over the centuries, but I won’t pick another battle.
“Look, I know you don’t want a mate in your life,” I say.
“It complicates things. Trust me, I understand that. But we don’t know who she is to you yet.
Let’s worry about this after we take Goreon. ”
His eyes clear of concern at my request. “Fine. Let’s get some rest,” he says, disappearing through my bedchamber door without another word.
I stare into the crackling fire, my body defeated with exhaustion.
My mind shifts to Aurelia and Samantha as they race on horseback through the day to the Night Kingdom wall, and I send a prayer to the gods to watch over them.
I learned long ago not to fortify faith with false hope; fate will always win in the end. But it won’t stop me from groveling to the gods and laying my wishes at their feet.
Heaving my emotions out with a forced exhale, I move to my room and change for bed, Emmanuel already softly snoring on my floor, still dressed and armed.
My bedroom door flies open just before sunset, and guards snap throughout my suite.
“What is the meaning of this?” I snarl. Emmanuel, a breath from me, has blades drawn.
General Balor sneers at us. “The king would like you safely stowed for the full moon. He can’t have queens wandering where they shouldn’t.”
I peer at him, confused; every vampire usually locks themselves away for safekeeping during dreamwalk, anyway. “A reasonable request,” I bite. “Why the dramatic show in my bedchamber, Balor?”
He shrugs. “I didn’t want any trouble with my orders.”
I let my gaze run up the male. “Or you’re overcompensating.”
Balor snarls at me.
“What is wrong with my chambers for the full moon?” I ask.
He tilts his chin and steps toward me, only to be greeted by Emmanuel’s hiss. Balor pauses and sighs at us. “Just let me stow you where the king wants so we can all get this night over with. It doesn’t fucking matter to me where I put you, but I’m going to follow orders.”
As much as I hate to admit it, it’s probably wise, given how drunk Nerian is. For all our sakes, I can’t imagine what an argument over this could escalate to, and it’s not worth the risk to fight them on it with Charlotte and Second gone. We need to keep tensions low and get through the night.
I huff at him. “Well, let’s go, General. Stow away.”
“You too,” Balor yips at Emmanuel and jerks his head for us to follow him. “And where are the other two?”
“Gone to my territory to handle an urgent matter,” I say.
Balor grunts and traipses out of the bedroom.
Guards flank us, leading us down to the ground floor and then through a long, gilded hallway to a door into the sublevels.
A dingy smell wafts upward, and plaster turns to stone as we descend to the dungeons.
I sigh, whisking myself down the stairs.
A locked bedroom door or a locked cell door—they’re the same, just a frigid stone floor for a seat instead of the comfort of my suite.
It’s so Nerian.