by Joy Demorra
“There you are,” Alfbern murmured as he leaned out the window, the tension bleeding from his face at having found her. “I should have known you’d find a perilous perch to climb onto.”
Ursula rolled her eyes and looked at the empty streets below. It was barely a thirty-foot drop. She’d survived falling from higher. Much higher. “I just needed some air.”
“And they don’t have that at street level?”
“You’re just sore because you’re too big to fit through the window.”
Alfbern flexed his giant shoulders against the frame until the wood creaked ominously. He probably could still climb out here, she realized, he’d just take the window with him. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done something like that to get to her.
“Have you eaten yet?”
“Yes,” Ursula lied.
Alfbern gave her a stern, knowing look. “You cannot keep pushing yourself like this, Little Bear. You will wear yourself thin.”
Ursula raised an eyebrow at him and gave her belly a comfortable pat. “I might be many things, Old Bear, but thin will never be one of them.”
“You know what I mean.”
And she did. Ursula knew fine well what he meant. But she also didn’t see how they could afford to stop. Not when they kept finding more and more dead Ancestral Trees wherever they went.
“I’ll rest when we find a living tree,” she told him, closing the topic for now. Turning her gaze out to the night once more, she listened to the distant sound of waves lapping against the sandy Steocidell shores.
A lot had changed since the last time she’d been in this part of the world. It had become a republic, for one thing, though who knew how long that would last.
Not long, she suspected. Not if the Nevrondian Empire had its way.
It was funny. Ursula could still remember when Nevrond had been little more than an isolated principality on the outskirts of more significant nations. Now it spanned most of the central hemisphere, gobbling up territories with alarming greed.
Like a snake unhinging its jaw, ready to swallow the world whole.
She’d have to do something about Nevrond soon. There too, Ursula felt another pang of guilt. It had been so easy to ignore things in Obëria, to bury herself in the self-contained bubble of solace she’d built.
She’d been a fool to think it would last. Foolish and irresponsible. But still, it had been nice to pretend, even just for a little while.
Yes, said a scathing voice in the back of her mind. And look where pretending got you. Twelve dead Ancestral Trees across four continents. Well done.
Ursula shuddered, wrapping her arms around her knees and drawing them tighter to her chest. They’d been so close with the last one. If she’d just been there a few days earlier, she might have been able to save it…
“We can’t slow down,” she said firmly, resting her chin atop her knees. “We shouldn’t even have stopped here for the night.”
“Yes, we should,” Alfbern replied gravely, and Ursula knew without looking that he was angry at her. “You cannot hope to save the world if you drop dead from exhaustion. You need to eat and sleep sometimes.”
“I can do both in the saddle.”
“Yes, but for how long? How long before you fade? How long before you make me bury you under the same trees you are trying to save?”
“Alfbern…”
“I almost lost you once, Little Bear,” he said, his gruff voice soft and pleading. “Please, do not make me relive that again.”
Guilt shot through her like an arrow, and Ursula turned to face him again. With a scarred hand, she gave his beard a gentle tug. “Stop fussing, Old Bear.”
“It’s my job to fuss over you,” he replied, extracting her fingers from his beard and giving them a firm squeeze. “You are my ward.”
Ursula returned the squeeze and turned her gaze out to the sea once more. “We need to go to Nevrond.”
“I know. I’ve already booked our passage on the next ship.”
“I don’t want to go,” she mumbled.
Alfbern squeezed her hand again. “The sooner we go, the sooner we can return home. And get out of this godsforsaken heat.”
“Nevrond won’t be so warm,” Ursula soothed. “Especially once we reach the North. Do you think the wolves will be happy to see us?”
Alfbern grunted. “When are wolves ever happy to see a bear? They will be polite and welcome us, though. They have no choice.”
“Yes,” Ursula agreed distantly. “I suppose they don’t. When do we leave?”
“First light. Which is why you should come inside, eat something, and get some rest. Please, Little Bear, it’s a three-month voyage. If you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me.”
Ursula sighed fondly at him. “That’s cheating, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” Alfbern replied with a smile, standing back to let her inside as Ursula unfolded her legs and swung herself back through the window. “But when have I ever played fair with you?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Early Autumn, 1888
The hour was fast approaching midnight when Vlad became aware of hurried footsteps approaching the library. He licked his thumb, turned the page of the book he was reading, and mentally counted down the seconds until the shouting started. He’d just reached the bottom of the page when the door slammed open, the draft causing the candles on either side of him to gutter dramatically.
“Good evening, Riya,” he greeted his sister lightly. He didn’t need to look up to know she was cross. It was radiating from her in waves. “Is something the matter?”
“You know there is.” Riya wasn’t even trying to hide her annoyance. “Mama just told me you’re refusing to come to tea tomorrow.”
Vlad licked his thumb again and turned to the next page. “That is correct.”
“Vlad.” Riya stomped her foot, reminding him of the terrible tantrums that had ensued shortly after she’d learned his name, when she’d first realized crying was an excellent way to get him to pay attention to her. She’d been two, and he’d never known peace since. “This is serious. Do you have any idea how much work I had to do to get Mrs. Collins to accept after what happened to Kitty at the ball?”
“Vaguely,” Vlad replied, keenly aware of just how much effort Riya had spent on damage control over the last few months.
Kitty Collins had all but become a feature of castle life in the wake of the May Ball. Like part of the furnishings, but infinitely louder. Which was saying something, considering Lady Margarete’s flair for color.
“Then you’ll know why it’s important for you to come,” Riya wheedled, coming to perch on the side of his chair. “You can’t hide from her forever.”
“I can try.” Vlad lifted the book closer to his face.
“Vlad!”
Vlad’s shoulders sagged. “All right, fine. I’ll be there. But I shan’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it,” Riya said. “You just need to pretend that you do, and be the charming Vlad I know you can be.”
Vlad grunted noncommittally.
Riya lapsed into silence. After a while, she shifted and drew out a folded-up slip of paper, radiating disdain. “Here, before I forget. This came for you. It’s from her.”
Ah, she who shall no longer be named, Vlad thought as he accepted the letter without looking. “Thank you,” he said, then promptly held it over the nearest candle, waited for the edges to catch, and dropped it to the stone floor once the paper was aflame.
“Vlad!” Riya sprung away from his chair and pulled her skirts back as she stomped out the smoldering missive. “For goodness’ sake. You’ll burn the whole castle down!”
“Regrettably unlikely,” Vlad turned back to his book, but his concentration was lost now, tenuous as it had been of late. He wasn’t sure why, but he was having trouble focusing. He’d lost two games of chess to Captain Northland earlier, and Vlad never lost at chess.
It was most disconcerting.
<
br /> “Are you really going to keep ignoring her letters?” Riya picked up the curled and blackened paper, throwing it into the hearth.
“I’m not ignoring them; I’m dealing with them in the appropriate manner.”
Riya shook her head, reaching up absently to make sure the silk turban wrapped around her hair was still in place. It was a nervous habit, which meant she was thinking nervous things.
Vlad sighed. “What’s wrong? I thought you wanted me to get rid of her?”
“I do. I did.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
She sighed as she came to perch on the arm of his chair again. “I’ve been talking to Mama, and she’s worried about you.”
Vlad gave Riya an affectionate pat on the knee. “Lady M’s been worried about me since the day we met. It’s something about my face. Anyone with an ounce of parental instinct sees it and decides ‘there’s someone who needs help to get his unlife together.’”
Riya shook her head. “Are you going to take any of this seriously?”
Vlad pretended to think about it. “Not intentionally. But go on, tell me. What’s Lady M fretting about this time?”
“She’s worried you’ll be in trouble with Father when he gets back…” Riya mumbled, angling her head timidly. The Count rarely spoke an unkind word to her, but she knew what would happen if and when Vlad accidentally invoked his wrath. Everyone on the entire island likely knew. The Count did nothing to modulate the volume of his displeasure toward his eldest child.
While Riya had every right to be concerned, Vlad was unwilling to borrow trouble, and he wasn’t about to let his sister fret if he could help it. “Well, luckily for me, that won’t be for another few months. He’s extended his trip to Fortdrüben until they complete the repair work. I received a letter from him this morning.”
“Oh, is that why Mama took to bed so suddenly?”
Vlad lifted his shoulders in a minute shrug. “Possibly, you know what she’s like. Any excuse to be dramatic.”
Riya gave him a light swat on the arm. “Says the man who just set fire to a letter from his fiancée.”
“Former fiancée,” Vlad corrected. “I am determined to be done with her.”
“Can you be?” Riya bit her lip. “Mama made it sound like you’d be breaking the law.”
“Not any law written in stone. Or on paper for that matter,” Vlad replied, reaching absently for the drink he’d neglected on the table next to his chair.
“So you won’t be in trouble for abandoning her?”
After draining the glass of its contents, Vlad met his sister’s worried gaze. “I haven’t abandoned her. I’m just refusing to speak to her ever again. Elizabeth is no longer in her infancy of immortality. She’s not a helpless progeny; she has the means to provide and care for herself.” And she’s still getting her annual stipend, Vlad mentally added, though from what he was hearing, her debts now far outweighed that generous sum. But if she couldn’t figure out how to live on six thousand pounds a year, that was her problem, not his.
“But Father will still be angry,” Riya concluded.
Vlad sighed. “Riya, the Count is always angry at me.”
“Why?”
Vlad blinked. “What do you mean, ‘why’?”
“I mean, why is he always angry at you?” Riya’s brow furrowed. “I’ve never understood why, and I’ve heard him say it’s because you’re useless, but you’re not useless! You keep everything running. Without you, he wouldn’t be able to vanish to Fortdrüben for months on end. And you do so much good—”
“Riya. Please. If you’re going to insist on being nice to me, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Riya ignored him, her expression painfully sincere. “I guess I just want to understand.”
Vlad took her hand in his and offered it a reassuring squeeze. “If you’re worried that he will ever stop loving you, I guarantee that won’t happen. You are the apple of his eye. I’ve always been a disappointment to him, even before Grandfather unnaturally extended our lifespans.”
Which had been a poor move on the old boy’s part, Vlad felt. Vampires were not familial creatures by nature. After all, what was another vampire but competition for food and power? Oh, the covens existed, and some even thrived under a strict hierarchy of social power. But there was always the nagging suspicion that the next in line might try to turn you into their next meal instead. Or find someone willing to drive a hawthorn stake into your heart. Vlad’s grandfather had sought to avoid such unpleasantries by turning his family, assuming familial blood loyalty would save him.
He’d been wrong.
“I’m not worried about me,” Riya replied. “I’m worried about you, and I feel responsible—”
“No, absolutely not.” Vlad snapped his book shut. “I refuse to let you blame yourself for Elizabeth facing the consequences of her actions. You said it yourself, she’s a hateful person and were that her only crime we wouldn’t be having this discussion. But she assaulted a human in our home. Even the Count must acknowledge this.”
“I still can’t believe she did that.” Riya shuddered with a frown. “Poor Kitty. She put a brave face on it, but she was very shaken.”
“I’m sure having access to your wardrobe has helped soften the blow.”
Bristling, Riya said, “They’re only old dresses. Kitty is practically doing me a favor by taking them.”
“It wasn’t meant as a criticism. I think it’s very kind of you.” He patted her knee again to drive home the point.
She bit her lip. “You should have seen the look on her face when she saw my wardrobe. I couldn’t not invite her to help herself. Not after…”
“Not after Elizabeth doused her in blood in front of a room full of vampires,” Vlad finished for her. “Yes, I know. Frankly, I’m surprised any of the Collinses have agreed to come back at all after that.”
“That’s why we need this tea to go well.” Riya gave him a gentle nudge. “To make amends. Also, I need you to move your carnivorous monstrosities out of the drawing room.”
Vlad feigned indignation. “They are not monstrosities. They are my beautiful plant children, and I will thank you to be kinder to them. It’s going to be a traumatizing experience moving them.”
Riya’s mouth quirked to the side. “I’ll bring some blood meal afterward.”
“Thank you. But what are you going to give them?”
Riya laughed, rolling her eyes at him. “Anyway, where have you been recently? I’ve hardly seen you.”
“I’ve been busy. Working.”
“Not all the time, you haven’t.”
Vlad flipped his book open again, needing something to do with his hands. “If you must know, I’ve been spending time with Captain Northland. We’re playing chess tomorrow.”
“That’s nice. How is he doing?”
“He’s improving,” Vlad said, smiling as he thought about the changes the other man had undergone since his arrival.
It had been just over three months since that night in the forest when Vlad had found himself flattened by an overly affectionate wolf; three months of watching the life flow back into the other man’s features. Three months of pining after that easy, open smile and the warmth in those blue eyes.
It should be impossible, Vlad reflected, for eyes the color of ice to be so warm. But perhaps that was why it was so easy to melt into them.
Gods, he was losing his mind.
And it wasn’t just about the way the other man looked at him, either. It was all the tiny, brief touches that had somehow become a part of their friendship. Small shoulder nudges here, a brush of hands there—the way Nathan would sometimes casually squeeze Vlad’s shoulder if he had a reason to walk behind him.
It’s probably a werewolf thing, Vlad decided. Werewolves were notoriously tactile creatures; physical displays of affection, however small, were a regular part of their social pack dynamic. And while Vlad felt honored and vaguely unworthy that Nathan seemed to h
ave upgraded him to ‘pack.’
It was also slowly driving Vlad insane.
Every glancing brush felt like a hot brand against his skin. Every smile, every wink, every kind word squirreled away for later when Vlad would replay them in the privacy of his own head in agonizing detail. It was all getting to be slightly too much, and Vlad knew he ought to do something about it.
But he was weak, so he didn’t.
“I am glad to hear that,” Riya said, derailing his spiraling thoughts. “He seems like a congenial fellow. Is that what pulled you out of your sulk?”
“I was not sulking,” Vlad corrected his sister testily. “I was hiding. There’s a difference. Honestly, Riya, are you sure I need to be at the tea tomorrow?”
“Yes.” Riya clapped a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Now. Come help me pick out what to wear.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Vlad’s lower lip caught between his fangs as he considered the chessboard. It was a ridiculously adorable expression, eclipsed only by the confused annoyance which spread over his handsome features when he realized Nathan had him in checkmate. “How in the Nine Circles of Hell did you manage that?”
Nathan shrugged, a slow smile spreading over his face. “You weren’t paying attention.”
“I was!”
“Clearly, you weren’t.” Nathan emphasized his point by toppling Vlad’s king.
Truthfully, Nathan had little interest in chess. His Uncle Ivar had taught him to play while growing up, largely against Nathan’s will. But it was all worth it now to watch Vlad’s expression transform into a pout that made Nathan’s heart give a besotted little flutter. He loved that petulant expression almost as much as he loved the vampire’s masochistic determination to keep coming back for more.
Already resetting the pieces, Vlad asked, “Best two out of three?”
“Sure, if you don’t mind losing again.” Nathan chuckled at the filthy glare Vlad shot him. It really was too much fun to tease him.
“How are your listening aids working out?” Vlad asked, glancing at Nathan over the board. “And the new brace?”
