by Ali Winters
The color drains from Elise’s face, turning her skin ashen. She crosses her arms, hanging tightly to herself. “I’m no longer your servant to order around, Alaric Devereaux.”
“What happened? You used to be kind, and now look at you.” I wait, but she shakes her head and doesn’t answer. “I don’t understand how you became so vindictive.”
She refuses to respond. I challenge her with a stare. Elise manages to keep eye contact for longer than I’d expect before averting her gaze with a huff.
Spinning on her heel, she turns and walks to the top of the stairs. Looking over her shoulder, she says, “Maybe next time, you’ll be more careful with how you treat others.”
And then she’s gone.
Elizabeth, Cassius, Elise—they are the epitome of what I hate about this existence. Rash and selfish. Only ever thinking about what they want with no regard to what their plots and schemes will do to others.
The revenge Elise seeks for not returning her feelings is only hurting the woman who spared her life.
“Are you going in, or are you going to stare at the door all night?” Elizabeth asks.
“You were here the whole time.” It’s not a question.
“That girl will get herself killed if she doesn’t learn her place…” She hums thoughtfully. “You should take care of her now before she gets any other ideas.” There is a sharpness to her words, something more than the cold, unfeeling tone she usually adopts.
Kill Elise. Moments ago, I had the same thought, but hearing it from Elizabeth’s mouth only reinforces my defiance. I loathe the petty side of my nature. While I attempt to make decisions based on logic, it’s a part of me nonetheless, and I am not impervious to it.
“Why are you here?”
“Come with me.” She holds out her hand, curling her fingers into her palms.
“No.”
Elizabeth tsks. “I have a deal you will want to take advantage of.”
Since the moment I danced with Clara at the Solstice, she knew my weakness.
Elizabeth walks back down the hall and I follow. Whatever deal she offers will weigh heavily in her favor, but I have to know what it is.
We don’t stop until we are in the antechamber of her room. She stretches out on the chaise lounge while I remain standing just inside the door.
“You are precious and valuable to me,” she starts. A small smile plays on her lips, but deviousness glints in her lavender jewel eyes. “And because of that, I have decided that I will agree to let the girl go free.”
I narrow my eyes. Clara has killed several vampires. She is the first slayer in over a hundred years.
“You will free Clara?” I ask when she doesn’t continue. “Just like that? No strings?”
Elizabeth laughs, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Of course there are conditions. She’s a slayer, Alaric. She cannot be allowed to go free and do as she wishes. In exchange for her freedom, you must do something for me.”
I clench my jaw until it aches.
“You do want her freedom, do you not? After all, there’s no telling who will become her new master or what they will do to her once they have her fully marked.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “What would you have me do?”
Though, deep in my gut, I know what she will ask.
Elizabeth rises from her spot and grabs a decanter of brandy. She fills a glass and brings it to her lips, watching me over the rim as she takes a sip. She deliberately drags the moment out until it’s almost painful. Elizabeth has me where she wants me.
Glass clinks against the glass as she sets it down. She prowls forward, the fire in the hearth gilding her figure and throwing shadows over her face.
“It’s simple,” she says, wetting her lips. “Become mine.”
My stomach plummets. Those two words are the ones I dread.
Become hers.
Allow her to control me and give her the power of my demon. Essentially trading my freedom for Clara’s.
If I refuse her, then I will lose Clara to another vampire who will most likely kill her, though I doubt I would be allowed to keep her by my side even if I do agree to this deal.
But I could send Clara anywhere she wants to go, give her what she needs to start a life free of worry.
It should be an easy choice. It is easy.
But I am selfish, and when I open my mouth to agree, no words form.
The stirring of an idea in the back of my mind begins to form and take shape. If I can get to Clara, I could give her the final mark. Clara asked for it on the ride here. Her instincts had been right.
“I will think on it,” I say, turning toward the door.
“Oh, my sweet prince,” Elizabeth croons. “I know you well enough to see your lies for what they are. You must decide now.”
A brush of air and in the blink of an eye, she’s before me. Elizabeth reaches up and drags a finger down the line of my throat. Her nail, sharpened to a point, cuts. The scent of my own blood fills the space. My skin knits itself back together almost as fast as she slices.
Elizabeth brings her finger to her lips and licks the smear of red off her finger.
Guilt forms a knot in my chest. I can only hope Clara will understand why I must take this risk. “If you force me to answer now, then I have to say no.”
Her brows shoot up. “No? You would still not give yourself to me willingly to save the human you care for?” she clutches a hand to her chest in mock horror. “You are more heartless than I remember.” A smile forms. “I love it.”
I step away from her and throw open the door.
“Oh, and one more thing, Alaric.”
I freeze.
“If you so much as attempt to mark Clara in secret, I will know, and I will not hesitate to rip her head off and leave it for you as a present in your chambers.”
My fingers tighten briefly around the doorknob. Then, I throw open the door and leave, without daring to look back at the queen.
Clara is lost to me. There is nothing I can do that will not endanger her further.
Except give up my freedom, something I have fought against for a hundred and seventy-four years.
Chapter Seventeen
Clara
I feel the weight of the blankets first then the stiffness in my muscles as I shift. An arm pulls me tighter against a hard body. Something brushes against the top of my head. I reach up to shoo Cherno away, but what I touch is cool and smooth and not at all a bat.
“I was wondering how long you would sleep,” a male voice rumbles.
Not Alaric’s voice.
I bolt upright, flinging the blankets off, and roll off the bed, leaning on the mattress to steady myself. My pulse pounds in my temples from the rude awakening.
Hadn’t I fallen asleep on the floor?
Cassius leisurely pulls the blanket from his face, revealing a Cheshire grin as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. He stretches and rolls to his side, watching me.
“You slept for two days. I was beginning to think you would die,” he says with a yawn.
The demon snake is curled up on my pillow.
“You compelled me,” I snap.
“Of course. You needed sleep.” Cassius sits up and scoots toward the edge of the bed.
I take several steps back, wanting to put more distance between us.
“You’re more of a snake than your demon,” I hiss, but Cassius smiles at that. “Compel me again, and I will kill you.” My chest heaves as I focus on remembering how the fuck I ended up in bed with this smug bastard.
He snorts. “If you wanted to kill me, you would have done so by now.”
“Don’t tempt me,” I say through gritted teeth.
He rises from the bed, unconcerned, and stalks toward me, forcing me to back up. The back of my legs bump against a table. Cassius reaches up and grips my chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing his face uncomfortably close.
“Is that any way to thank the man wh
o healed you? You would be back in the dungeon—or dead—if I hadn’t spoken in your defense. I risked my position in court for you, little bird.”
I press my palms to his chest and shove. He could easily overpower me, but he concedes a step, letting go.
“I didn’t ask for your help, and that doesn’t mean I owe you anything.”
He huffs, straightening his shirt.
At least he had the decency to stay fully dressed.
“I don’t expect anything from you, Clara,” he says in a clipped tone. “I’m simply reminding you that right now, I am your only ally, and as I told you the other day, I have my own reasons for helping you.”
I can’t make heads or tails of his motivations. Sometimes, he seems so cold and distant. The next moment, he’s friendly, and others, he tries to charm me. It reminds me of our conversation outside of the atrium back at Windbury, where he pretended to be a friend only as an attempt to take me from Alaric and turn me. Could all of this have been part of his plan?
He can’t be trusted.
“What are you thinking, little bird?”
“I will never ask you to turn me, so don’t bother offering.”
He cups my cheek and searches my eyes. I hold my breath. “I will return with more food. Then, we can discuss what is to happen.”
He is across the room in a blur and then out the door.
My trunk sits in the corner, a dress splayed on top, ready for me to change into. I push it aside and shift through the other clothes until I fish out something I deem more suitable.
After quickly dressing, I’m not sure what to do with myself and end up pacing the room. My thoughts return to Alaric over and over. I need to find him so we can figure out how to get out of this mess I made.
I stride toward the door, itching to find him. I pull it open and come face-to-face with Cassius. He widens his stance, blocking my path. Taking a step forward, he forces me back inside then kicks the door closed with his foot.
“Clara, you can’t leave this room alone.”
He may have helped me, but I can’t fight the bitterness coating my tongue. It feels like he’s trying to replace Alaric.
And I resent him for it.
“You’re not my master.” I clamp my mouth shut as soon as the words are out.
“No. I’m not, but I am your guardian.” His face softens to something that resembles pity. “You’re lucky. No other human in the world has a vampire fighting for them as Alaric fights for you, let alone another vampire as an ally.” He presses a hand to his chest.
My throat is tight with an array of emotions.
Alaric fights for you…
“It’s the only reason you’re not being tortured until your body gives out, which would be a very, very, long time.”
I swallow thickly, unsure if he’s threatening or warning me.
He places the tray of food on the desk. He cants his head to the side, eyes narrowing as he studies me. Cassius heaves a sigh and walks to me, taking my hand in both of his.
“Elizabeth would torture you to the point of near death, breaking every bone in your body one by one. Then, she would heal you, just enough, and do it again and again until she considered your crimes against vampires paid for or until she grew bored, but you would not die until she allowed it.”
His words chill me to my bones, and I realize just how stupid I’ve been.
Even after days in the dungeon and the trial, all I’ve thought about was finding my way back to Alaric. I haven’t taken the risks seriously because he always sheltered me from them. We convinced ourselves that if we worked together, we could get away with anything… that we could control our fate.
How long can I continue to defy all the rules before it catches up to me and I have to pay for everything?
I stare down at my hands, curling my fingers into my palms. “I’m sorry.”
Cassius pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you understand?”
I nod. “I will do my best to behave like I’m supposed to. You won’t need to compel me.” I slip my hand from his and press it to my forehead.
“You don’t have to stay here, I won’t force you, but we will be spending a lot of time together.” When I don’t respond, he adds, “Eat, and I will return soon.”
I push my food around on the plate, barely able to stomach eating. When I told Alaric I would come with him, I never expected anything like this would happen. We were supposed to deal with the solstice and, once the two weeks were up, leave.
I’m torn by regret.
A swift knock on the door rips me from my thoughts. I glance at the door but don’t bother getting up, not sure if I should answer. Cassius hadn’t said he was expecting visitors.
The knock comes again, more insistent this time.
Pushing to my feet, I open the door and peek out. Della looks at me expectantly.
“Hello,” I say, my voice an octave too high to be natural. She’s one of the last people I expected to see.
Della raises a single dark brow. We stare at each other for a long moment.
“I’m here to take you to your new quarters,” she says as if I’m an idiot.
Opening the door wider, I look into the hall. “Where is Cassius?”
“Follow me.” Della grabs my hand and tugs me out of the room.
“I can’t leave without—”
Her head whips around, fangs flashing. “Who do you think sent me?”
Ignoring her irritation, I close the door then follow as ordered. Della’s heels clack against the stone as she mumbles under her breath nearly the whole way. I tune her out and allow myself to be led.
Cassius arranged for me to stay somewhere else. He understood I don’t want to be alone with him. I hadn’t expected that level of respect from him.
Eventually, the halls narrow and all decor fades away to nothing more than dull gray the texture of the stone. We are heading to the humans’ quarters.
We finally enter a passage with dozens of doors on either side. I haven’t ventured this far with Alaric when we came this way.
Della stops before a door that looks exactly like all the others we’ve passed. “This is your room.”
The door sticks a little when I turn the doorknob. I have to hit it with my shoulder to open it. Della doesn’t follow me inside.
The entire space is less than half the size of Alaric’s bathing room, with nothing more than essentials. The bed would struggle to fit an average-sized man. Across from the door is a single window, tall and thin like an archer’s slit. The opening is only as wide as my hand from the heel of my palm to the tips of my fingers. The only other thing in the room is a rickety dresser with two drawers that looks as if it was pieced together with rejected wood scraps.
I wonder if my possessions will be brought down here or if all I have now are the clothes on my back. I suppose it doesn’t matter. This isn’t the dungeon, and it isn’t torture.
Once I’ve taken in what will be my new room, I turn back to Della.
“Why weren’t you there during the…” I trail off, not sure what to call what happened in the room when I was taken from Alaric. Despite what they call it, trial doesn’t fit what happened.
“I was sired by one of the court, but that doesn’t make me part of it,” she says dryly.
I immediately feel bad for asking the question. “Thank you for not… speaking against me. I know you could—”
Della holds up a hand, cutting me off. “If you don’t need anything, I’ll be going.” She turns her back to me. Then, glancing over her shoulder, she says, “I know you might be tempted to, but I would recommend against leaving this room without Cassius.”
Her eyes narrow as if she wants to say more, but she doesn’t. Instead, she shakes her head. Then, she closes the door quietly behind her.
Blowing out a breath, I plop down on the bed. A small cloud of dust plumes up. The dust particles dance in the thin shaft of light coming in from the window. The smell tickles my nose.
&
nbsp; I pull my knees up to my chest. There’s not enough room to pace. This won’t be as comfortable as Alaric’s rooms, but I feel better putting space between Cassius and me.
How has everything gone so wrong?
I think I eventually fall asleep, only to be startled awake by the door banging open. Lawrence steps inside and kicks it closed with his booted foot without missing a stride. Silently, he approaches me where I sit, until I can see the red that rings his irises.
Demon shit. He’s furious.
I’m afraid of the anger in his eyes, but annoyance at the rude entrance wins out. It seems every vampire I have ever met will be paying me a visit today.
Every vampire except the one I want to see.
He stops a few feet from my bed and scowls.
“Why are you here?” I ask. I scrunch my mouth to the side. “How did you even know where I was?”
“Alaric asked me to check on you when you were in the dungeon—”
A laugh, loud and sharp, bursts out before I can swallow it back down. I spread my arms to indicate the room. “As you can see, you’re a little too late for that.” I raise a brow then add, “You were at the sentencing. You even offered to be my guardian. Was that because you wanted to kill me yourself?”
The queen scoffed at his request. At the time, I couldn’t have cared less. I want to ask him about it but not as much as I want to ask him about Alaric.
“You lied to me,” he states, ignoring my question.
I’m taken aback by the sudden accusation that comes out of nowhere. Did he come here to argue?
“What are you talking about?”
The anger melts from his face, replacing it with a sorrow that takes my breath away. His eyes are glassy for a brief moment. Then, he blinks it away.
“I’m talking about Rosalie. You lied. You did kill her, and then, you denied it.”
I take in a slow, deep breath through my nose then exhale. Scooting forward, I drop my feet off the bed and fold my hands in my lap.
