by Becca Blake
“Never have. Never will.” Miria set the knife at the edge of the drying rack, where she could grab it as soon as Farraine turned her attention elsewhere.
The older elven woman gave a wistful sigh, like she was recalling a fond memory. “They don’t want my blood anymore, now that I’m nearing 600. They’re always looking for the younger and prettier elven maidens—girls like you. You ought to try it. It feels like bliss.”
Miria ignored the suggestion and began scrubbing down another dish. For her part, Farraine seemed to get the hint and stopped trying to force conversation with Miria.
When they finished, Farraine wiped her hands on her apron, then hung it up on a hook. “Time to call it a night. We’ll need you back here early in the morning to help prepare another big meal for our guests.”
Farraine turned her back on her way out of the kitchen, leaving Miria with what could be her only chance to steal the knives. She had no idea how much a flimsy cooking utensil could protect her from a violent vampire, but it was better than carrying nothing.
The kitchen manager spun around, some unspoken question at the tip of her tongue, then stopped. Her eyes widened at the sight of Miria reaching for the daggers. “What are you doing?”
Miria pulled her hand back from the knife and searched the counter for an excuse. A bread bowl sat just out of reach, pushed against the wall behind the drying rack. “I was just getting something to bring back to my room. I haven’t had any time to eat today, and I’m hungry.”
Farraine’s features softened. “I’m heading to bed now, dear. I never saw a thing. Close everything up behind you.”
Miria breathed a sigh of relief as the door clicked shut behind the kitchen head. She swiped the two daggers and slid them into her leather belt. The metal pressed into her hip through the cloth of her dress. She welcomed its presence, a sense of safety for the first time in weeks. She gathered bread rolls into a cloth and held them against her hip to conceal the knives, then hurried down the hallway toward her bedroom.
She closed and locked the door behind her, then tossed the bread onto her nightstand. Irena lay in her bed on the opposite end of the room, her chest rising and falling with the breaths of a deep slumber. At least Miria wouldn’t have to deal with her that night.
It was true that Miria hadn’t had any time to eat that day, but that could wait. She grabbed a pair of pants from her wardrobe and sat on the floor. With one of the daggers, she cut the rough leather into strips and created a sheath for each of them. She tucked one into each of her boots and took a few steps. With every movement, her skin pressed against the layers of soft leather, a constant reminder of the blade hidden within.
Her reflection in the floor-length mirror caught her eye, and she paused as though seeing herself for the first time. Dark, purple circles lined her tired eyes. Her lithe, fit form had become gaunt and weak, proof that she still hadn’t recovered from her time in the mines or her stress in the aftermath of Zephyr’s death.
Proof that she was weak.
At dinner, she let the vampire from the surface grab her without even bothering to resist. She would have let him feed from her without fighting back, more afraid of causing a scene in front of Nero than she was of what the other vampire could do to her. She was at his mercy, utterly powerless.
But now… Even as she stared back at her reflection, she felt like herself for the first time since she’d arrived at the castle.
Zephyr had told her to keep her head down. Azalea had warned her to keep her mouth shut.
She could keep doing those things, but she would not cower again.
Not even if it meant her death.
22
Azalea jolted upright in bed with a gasp. Her heart pounded with fear as the memory of the previous night crept back to her. She remembered feeding Nero, but everything that came after was a hazy blur. She ran her fingers along the base of her neck where he’d fed from her. There was no blood—he would have sealed the wound once he finished drinking. The last thing she remembered were the final words he’d said before sinking his fangs into her neck.
There is more you could be.
The words echoed through her tired mind as she tried to grasp what about them had scared her so much. More… Had he been offering to turn her into a vampire? Or worse, had he taken advantage of her paralysis during the feeding to do so against her will? She ran her tongue along her top row of teeth.
Still flat. Still elven.
She breathed out a relieved sigh and leaned back against the headboard.
He hadn’t turned her—at least, not this time. But what if he decided he wanted to? She had no desire to live on the blood of her own people.
She rolled over in bed and laid a hand on Nero’s bare chest, which rose and fell with deep breaths. Like eating, breathing and sleeping were not something vampires needed to do. Nero had told her that their bodies remembered the functions from their mortal lives, and even centuries later were too accustomed to them to stop. He looked so peaceful as he slept, with the muscles in his face relaxed. He looked gentle, angelic, even. His dark hair fell into his face, unkempt in a way that made him look young and innocent. Nothing like an immortal vampire lord.
Nero stirred under her touch, then rolled over to wrap his arms around her. “I have guests to entertain and a city to rule, and yet all I can think of is how much I would like to remain in this bed with you.” He kept his eyes shut as he spoke, but his lip quirked up in a lazy smirk. He ran a hand through her hair.
Azalea smiled. “If you stay here with me, who will keep everyone safe from these dangerous guests who roam your halls?”
She meant the comment to be a lighthearted joke, but Nero’s eyes opened, and his expression darkened at the reminder.
He rolled out of bed and pulled on a deep red tunic. “I would prefer to just kill them, though I have been advised that’s not the most diplomatic solution.”
Azalea pulled the blanket tighter around herself. No matter how Nero treated her, she couldn’t allow herself to forget what he was. “Where are you keeping the rest of your staff while they’re here?”
Nero frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
“You told me I have to stay here for my own safety. Where are the others staying?”
“They are staying where they always stay.”
Why didn’t they deserve the protection she was receiving from Nero? If there truly was a danger from the outsiders, why should she be caged up in Nero’s room while the others were left unprotected?
“I’d like to see Miria,” she said.
“Absolutely not.”
“Then, how do I know she’s okay?”
“Is my word not enough?”
“I’m sorry, I—”
Nero ran a hand through his hair. “The danger is more significant to you than it is to any of the others. If they learn that you are important to me, they may use you as a weapon against me. Or they may try to take you from me. I cannot allow that. The others… They have no interest in lesser servants.”
“None of them are less than me.”
“Yes, my flower. They are. If our visitors see you with me, they’ll realize you’re important to me. And that puts you in danger. This arrangement will only be for this week. After the ball, the visitors will be gone, and everything will return to normal.” He brushed her cheek with his thumb, then left her alone in the dark bedroom.
Minutes stretched into hours as Azalea lay in Nero’s bed, awaiting his return. She couldn’t stay locked away in Nero’s bedchamber for a full week, never emerging for anything. And not just because of the boredom and isolation—Nero had never returned with any breakfast for her. She hadn’t been sent lunch or dinner, either. Her stomach growled, gnawing at her resolve, until she decided she couldn’t take it any longer. She slid out of the bed and padded across the cold, stone floor to the closet she n
ow shared with Nero. Her old belongings from the Third District were tucked away behind a row of gorgeous dresses. She reached in the back and pulled out a plain dress with a white tunic top and flowing brown skirts, one that would blend in better with the kitchen staff than the elegant gowns Nero gifted to her.
After getting dressed and tucking her hair back in a long braid, Azalea peered out from the cracked door. There was no sign of Nero or anyone else. Just the long, empty hallway that led down to the main staircase. If she could sneak into the servants’ wing of the castle, she could go in the back way to the kitchen to avoid the notice of Nero or any of his guests.
He would be angry if he found her, but he’d have to understand when she explained that she hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day. She just needed food. And while she was doing that, hopefully she would run into Miria so she could make sure she really was okay.
Just as she reached the landing that connected the two staircases, voices came from the hall below. Azalea ducked behind a stone pillar on the railing.
“Why don’t we just go back home, then?” a male vampire asked in a hushed voice. “There’s no reason to stay here if Nero isn’t going to come to an agreement with Neryssa. He’s out of his mind. He’s no threat to her.”
Azalea covered her mouth with her hand to smother the gasp that rose in her throat. The three vampires below stepped into focus through the holes in the railings. All three were tall and muscular, wide in the shoulders. Terrifying. She inched back up the stairs as quietly as she could manage, keeping low to the ground.
“He’s gone soft, is what’s happened,” another voice responded. “He’s weak. He doesn’t deserve Terra Nocturne. We need all the information we can get on him before we go back to Lady Neryssa.”
“Keep it down, idiots,” a third voice hissed. “We’re right out in the wide open entryway of his castle! Could be anyone listening.”
The vampires stopped their conversation to look around the entryway. Azalea paused her slow ascent to avoid making any additional noise from her movements, though her breath was loud and heavy in the silence.
The vampire dressed in a long, black cloak dragged his gaze up the stairs, and his eyes locked onto Azalea’s. “Who’s there?” he called up to her. “Show yourself!”
Azalea froze. If she tried running, they would catch her in an instant. Her only choice was to reveal herself. She used the railing to pull herself upright. “I apologize, my lords. I was on my way to my duties for the evening and didn’t want to disturb your conversation.”
Did her voice shake as much as her hands? She couldn’t be sure.
The vampire in the black cloak narrowed his eyes. “What did you hear just now?”
They wouldn’t believe her if she said she’d heard nothing. She’d been too close, and they’d been too loud.
“Nothing worth repeating, sir,” she said carefully.
The vampires exchanged a look.
The shortest of the three, a dark-haired male with olive skin, shook his head. “We can’t let her go to Nero and tell him anything she just heard.”
“I won’t,” she said quickly. “I wouldn’t. I didn’t mean to overhear anything, I just…”
The cloaked vampire pinched the bridge of his nose. “You saw how defensive Nero became over that other serving girl at dinner last night. It doesn’t seem wise to push our luck with another so soon…but I agree. She can’t be allowed to speak.”
“We’ll have to kill her,” the blond one said.
“Could take a drink first, though,” the short one suggested. “We haven’t had anything but that foul extracted blood since we got here. “
“Wait!” Azalea gripped the railing tighter to hold herself in place. “Lord Nero wouldn’t miss me. I’m just a serving girl. He wouldn’t notice I was gone.”
But of course, that wasn’t true. Nero would know something was wrong as soon as he returned to his bedchamber and found that she wasn’t there waiting for him. If they killed her before Nero discovered she was missing, it wouldn’t matter. She’d be dead all the same, and there would be nothing Nero could do to protect her then. But if she could convince them to keep her alive, she could hope that Nero would tear apart the castle looking for her.
“More reason to kill you, then,” the short one pointed out.
“What if I help you?” Azalea said.
The blond one opened his mouth to protest, but the cloaked vampire raised a hand to shut him up. “I’m listening.”
“If you keep me alive, I’ll…” She considered that for a moment. What would they want from her? What could she offer in exchange for her life? “I’ll tell you all the secrets I know about Terra Nocturne,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Hidden tunnels, maps of the city?”
It was a bold lie. If they asked her to back it up, she wouldn’t be able to follow through with it. They exchanged doubtful glances.
“My people are held captive here. I have no love for Lord Nero,” she added.
The words were bitter in her mouth, a lie just as much as her offer to tell them all the secrets she didn’t know about Terra Nocturne. The realization hit her hard in the gut. She did care for Nero, unwise as it was. She wasn’t just trying to save herself. The thought of these vampires coming after the man who had been so kind and gentle with her made her angry.
“And in exchange, you want…” His voice brought her crashing back to reality, tearing her away from the acknowledgment that her feelings for the vampire lord were growing stronger.
Azalea had listened to Miria’s dreams of the surface world often enough to know exactly what to answer.
“Freedom,” she said, echoing Miria’s voice in her head. “I want you to smuggle me out of the city and set me free.”
That lie came more easily than the others. If Miria was in her place, Azalea was sure she’d be offering this deal in earnest. This was another thing she couldn’t tell her best friend about. Miria wouldn’t understand why she would choose Nero and Terra Nocturne over a chance to return to the surface. But for the first time in her life, Azalea didn’t think she would choose the surface if the choice was freely offered. Her new position was everything she could have dreamed of. Why would she want to leave?
There were no traces of warmth in the vampire’s dark smile. “It sounds as though we have a deal, servant girl.”
The blond vampire gestured with his hand for her to come to him. She walked down the stairs, taking every step slowly and cautiously. She had to find a way to get away from them, to get back to Nero before they changed their mind about the deal. Or worse, discovered that she had nothing to offer them and killed her for it.
For now, they had to believe that she was just a worthless serving girl whose absence would never be noticed.
23
The blond vampire pulled Azalea to him and slipped an arm around her waist. His rough, harsh touch reminded her too much of Darien, and she fought back the panic that came with those memories. She couldn’t afford to lose control of herself—not now.
“If anyone says anything,” he whispered harshly, “you offered to come to our rooms with us for a feeding.”
Azalea nodded. “Of course.”
As they started down the lower hallway toward the guest chambers, the wide double doors to the dining hall swung open. Hope fluttered in Azalea’s chest as Nero emerged from the doorway.
The three surface vampires continued walking, as though they hadn’t noticed the creaking of the heavy doors. The vampire’s fingers dug into Azalea’s hip, a warning to her not to make a scene. She turned as they walked, looking around the vampire’s thick bicep, willing Nero to just glance their way, even for a moment.
Just as they were about to turn the corner and vanish from Nero’s sight, his eyes locked on hers with a moment of panicked recognition. He masked his features and started down the hallway at a brisk
walk.
“Julian,” he called after them.
“Shit,” the cloaked vampire muttered. He spun around. “Yes, Lord Nero?”
The blond who held Azalea pushed her behind him as he turned to face Nero as well.
“Where are you heading off to? Dinner will be served shortly, I’ve been told.” He paused a moment before adding, “Who’s that with you? Is that one of my girls?”
“This one?” The blond pushed her into view. “She offered to come back to our rooms with us. Asked if we were thirsty.”
“It’s nice to see that at least some of your serving girls have manners and know how to treat guests of your household,” the cloaked vampire said.
“Is that so?” Nero’s tone was pleasant enough, but his shoulders were tense, and his fists were clenched tightly at his sides.
“Tell him,” the blond said, pinching her arm.
“I was on my way to attend to my duties in the kitchen,” Azalea said slowly, knowing he would catch the lie, hoping he would believe that she wouldn’t betray him. “I saw your three lovely guests in the hall.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse us,” the blond said with an exaggerated bow, “we’ll go have a drink before we come to dinner.”
“No.”
The ferocity in the single word from Nero stopped the three surface vampires.
“Excuse me?” the cloaked one asked. “Are you really not going to allow a guest in your city to—”
“I said no. You won’t be taking her. Let her go.” Nero took a few steps toward them.
“Surely you can spare one servant girl—” the cloaked vampire began, but he was cut off by an almost feral snarl from Lord Nero.
“She is mine.” He emphasized the final word with a fierce possessiveness that made the blond vampire who held Azalea flinch.
Azalea took advantage of the sudden moment of weakness to pull away from the vampire’s grip and run to Nero, who accepted her in his arms.
“You will not speak to her again. Is that clear?”
