by Kayleigh Sky
Maybe because it wasn’t his job to seduce a king. And it was a job.
Asa struggled up, flushed the toilet, and got in the shower. In their room, he found a set of clothes he hadn’t seen before, brown wool slacks, and a cream and brown-striped shirt. The material clung to him, soft as silk, even the wool. He slipped on the pair of shoes waiting beside the bed, tugged his cuffs down over his wrists and hurried to the dining room.
He climbed the stairs and headed for the door near the dumb waiters. The servants entered through one end of the room, guests and family through a pair of massive double doors on the other end. The dining table sat twenty-eight. The floor was a mottled stone, the walls wood paneled, and the ceiling painted with a strangely pastoral scene of hills and clouds and haystacks. Heavy mahogany buffet cabinets lined the walls.
Asa entered and took his place behind the king’s throne, which, oddly, was positioned at the center of the table. The other vampires would sit on either side and in front of him. He didn’t put himself at their head, but at their center. Asa smiled to himself and waited.
Dennis and one of the new vampire enforcers were putting the final touches on the place settings while Justin stood to the side, hands clasped in front of him. A few of the royal attendants stood against the walls, chins down.
When the main doors opened, the enforcer retreated to a corner of the room, and Justin stepped forward and lowered his chin to his chest as the first guests entered. All had their hair in braids and buns and complicated twists. The twins wore flowing gowns, blood-red lips, and glittery eye shadow.
A few minutes later, Moss arrived, followed by the vampire called Uriah. His clothes were casual, similar to Asa’s, hiding heavy muscle. He swept the room with his gaze before settling it on Moss’s back with a befuddled frown. A moment later, both vamps stared across the room as an old woman entered, followed by a young boy. The woman radiated light, silver hair in a twist, her gown silver too. She stood straight and regal, the slender boy behind her barely taller. Moss strode over and offered his arm while the other vamp, Uriah, stood against the wall facing Zev’s empty chair. His eyes narrowed on Asa. The bastard reminded him of Otto.
The vampire boy skirted the wall, dark eyes low, avoiding the glances that sidled his way. Was he off limits? An outcast? A whore maybe? He was pretty enough. His sleeveless red shirt exposed tattooed, willowy arms. Black leather encased long limber legs, and silver rings pierced his lip and one eyebrow. He wore narrow braids that wove through his hair like sinuous snakes. When he reached the chair Moss led the old woman to, he pulled it out, then sank into the one beside her.
The main doors stood open now, and the cool drafts blowing in stirred the candles behind the green sconces.
A vampire sat on the podium with a strange instrument and began to play it. The notes that emerged sounded harp-like. Vampires continued to arrive, the families and a few more attendants, sliding their gazes to Asa, mixing squinty-eyed smiles with smirks.
Silence fell over the room at the appearance of the next guest. He looked to Asa to be about thirty, unremarkable for a vampire, but his intelligent eyes glittered like steel in snow. Only one of the vampires approached him, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. He shook his head and broke away, rounding the table to take the empty chair beside Zev’s. When he was seated, he snapped his fingers, and Dennis hurried over. “Bring me a fungali.”
“Of course.”
A moment later, Asa caught his breath, holding it as Zev breezed into the room with a broad smile on his lips.
Blue was Zev’s color. His sapphire shirt looked as though somebody had sewn threads of crystal through it. His black leather pants clung to his thighs and hips. He’d tied his hair high on his head, and it fell in a mix of glossy tresses and braids.
He strode in without anyone in attendance, flashing his teeth in a friendly smile, but every vampire’s head dropped, chin to chest.
His fingers brushed the back of Asa’s hand as he slid around him and sank onto his throne. Then he reached back and tugged on Asa’s slacks, drawing him nearer until their eyes met.
Confusion swept over Asa, and he resisted the impulse to lay a hand on Zev’s shoulder. It wasn’t his place. He was a servant.
A moment later, Zev turned back to the table. “No ceremony.”
Heads lifted.
“I see we’re still waiting on our maid of honor,” he added with a laugh. “Justin, drinks for everyone, please, except for Cammie, of course, as it seems he’s gotten his own.”
Camiel grinned. “One less thing for the servants to do now, yes, sire?”
“Always the considerate one.”
Camiel shrugged. “Just foresight. Your Highness will be here in four… three… two… and ta da.” His voice rose on the last word just as a female vampire burst into the room with Zev’s cop, Otto, and another man behind her.
“My liege.”
Her voice was husky, her long dark hair loose and flowing, her lips painted scarlet. Everyone in the room fixated on her, but Zev…
A muscled jumped in his jaw. “Princess Malia.”
She tipped her head and flashed a view of white teeth. “King Zeveriah. As gorgeous as ever.”
A blush crept into Zev’s cheeks, and he coughed and plucked at the front of his shirt. “You’re too kind.”
His blush deepened from pink to red, and the princess grinned.
“You met Jessamine at my I’m-Not-Dead party, yes? This is the Prince’s first coven meeting.”
She swung her arm around her companion, who hovered behind her, and dragged him forward. Asa startled. A crossling. But, of course. Isaac’s prince.
Did Isaac know he was here?
A plain-looking kid except for that autumnal head of hair. Russet, walnut, and gold. He’d decorated it with thin braids and loosely bound it at the back of his neck, exposing a tattoo of a broken infinity symbol. The sign of a drainer.
“Are you comfortable, Jessa?”
“Oh yes.” A smile split his face. “I saw moon lace tarts.”
Zev laughed. “And you didn’t eat them all?”
“Well, I—”
The prince stopped and gazed at his sister, who stared at Asa. She cocked her head and wrinkled her nose. The prince looked too, but he didn’t wrinkle his nose. He sniffed, and then his lips parted. Before he said anything though, the princess looked back at Zev and said, “Who is that?”
Zev glanced up with a quizzical look, as though waiting for Asa to explain himself. Asa stammered. “M-m-my name is Emek.”
“Emek,” said the prince. “Otto mentioned you were here. I remember you. We were on the train with you.”
Asa shook his head, aware of Zev’s fixed stare. “I— No. I haven’t been on any train.”
The prince frowned and sniffed again, stepping back when the princess slid closer to Asa. “Where are you from, Emek?”
“He’s my employee,” said Zev.
His voice had fallen, soft and low. The vampire named Camiel smiled and showed his fangs.
What the fuck? Asa’s skin prickled at the threat in the air. He edged half an inch back, but then the princess pursed her lips and shrugged. “We’ll sit now.”
She took her brother’s hand and strolled away. It wasn’t until she crossed in front of him that Asa noticed Otto’s stare on him from across the room, and for a moment, Asa forgot the roomful of vampires in the palpable menace holding him in its grip.
The train. Damnit.
32
A Dance With Mal
Still sitting beside him, Camiel polished off another fungali with a smack of his lips. Zev kept to the wine Emek brought him.
Asa?
Why was he lying about being on that train? Both Rune and Jessa had seen him. Rune had thought him gravely injured at first.
Though he couldn’t have been. His skin had been warm and soft under Zev’s lips, dusted with hair, no ridges of hard flesh, no slick scars. Pain struck Zev in the chest for a moment. Emek
, or Asa, was not the boy of his memory. And neither was Rune. So many deaths that hadn’t stolen all of life. The victims still lived—but in pieces.
If Emek was Asa, could Zev love this version of him? Had he loved the boy? They’d barely known each other. But he was Zev’s fated. The one who had called to him even before the Upheaval, even before he’d believed in fated love. The vibrations of Emek at his side, like an auditory aura, rang inside him. Like an echo of his heartbeat.
He swallowed his laugh with a sip of wine. How romantic. With a rueful smile, he twirled the red glass. At least he didn’t have to put on the act of a poisoned king. Lucanith, though insidious and irreversible, was also slow.
“Sire.”
Camiel’s voice crawled down Zev’s throat into his stomach. Exiled, but a member of the council with every right to attend the coven meeting. And Camiel was so far down the line he hadn’t been exiled with the immediate family. But he was a Nezzarram, and he bore the name willingly.
Zev gazed into the dark eyes, empty of the humor that had been there earlier. Shadows moved under the surface like things nobody wanted to see in the dark. “Let me read for you, sire.”
Zev blinked, perplexed. He’d long ago accepted he didn’t know everything about the world, but he’d never taken much stock in the occult. Which was laughable. He’d never doubted the power of Abadi, Rune’s mother. She was a witch from a long line of witches. They were common among the Nezzarrams, and Camiel had the reputation of being as powerful as Abadi had been. Though he was so young. Barely past thirty with a face still malleable as clay, despite the intensity in his eyes.
“I prefer reasoned decisions,” Zev said.
“As opposed to knowledgeable?”
Zev’s face heated. “I could consider that an insult.”
“I offer you a different perspective, that is all. Look at all the signs and evidence before you decide a case.”
“What case?”
Uncertainty clouded Camiel’s gaze, and a frown lined his smooth brow. “Sire, let me read for you. The inclination in me is strong. Like its own sign. That doesn’t happen very often.” His voice dropped to a whisper, his gaze canting microscopically to Zev’s other side. To—Emek. “I beseech you.”
Beseech. Such an old-fashioned word, but it recalled home to him. Celestine and Abbatine and Majallena. The buzz of the chatter around him, even in a human tongue, took him back to the Ellowyn cities.
He sighed. “I think not.” He raised a finger, silencing Camiel the moment his lips parted. “I won’t forget your offer.”
“You do not trust me.”
“You aren’t my friend, Nezzarram.”
“I was no part of my family’s dispute with Qudim. I wasn’t even born.”
“Who taught you your craft?”
Camiel smiled and turned the empty glass in his fingers. “Not Abadi. I was too young.”
“No?”
Camiel shrugged. “I would have learned from her. I sat at her feet a few times. Now she’s gone.”
“I heard she broke her exile and ran from Kolnadia.”
“That was a rumor,” said Camiel.
“Her body was found in Majallena.”
“Also a rumor. Those were confusing days.”
Zev nodded. “True. Kolnadia was unpleasant, I heard.”
“Now that is no rumor,” said Camiel with a laugh. “It was cold.”
“It’s cold here.”
Camiel’s face stilled. “A storm is coming.”
Zev blinked again. “No. The weather’s mild for the next week or so.”
“Trust me.”
Zev had no time to reply before Uriah’s form loomed behind Camiel’s chair. Camiel stilled again, sinking back with a small smile. “Another time.”
Zev nodded.
It wasn’t until he picked up his wine and leaned back that the weight of Emek’s presence fell over him. He’d sidled closer to Zev’s chair. Now, here was his enemy. A servant. Employee. Uriah would throw down his life for him, because Rune would want it, but Emek… Zev trusted him less than he trusted Camiel. But he lounged in his chair as though he had no worry and let the notes of the bi’lilo soothe him. When everyone had eaten, he stood, and Emek kept pace with him down the hall.
The sounds of laughter and conversation followed him.
He passed through another set of doors. The air here was fragrant with spice and the scent of incense. Standing aside at the entrance, he swept his arm in welcome and said, “Please join me for dancing.”
The round, windowless room was a strange feature of the house that Zev was happy to make use of. Inside, the walls were covered in gold paper with thin ruby stripes, and the mahogany floor shone with the gloss of a mirror. Strains of violins and cellos floated out of hidden speakers, playing the minuets and waltzes Zev enjoyed.
Emek’s eyebrows rose when he caught Zev’s gaze, and Zev flashed a grin at him. So what if he didn’t keep pace with either human or vampire fashion? The strings of the violins hung on the air like a bi’lilo. Ornate crown moulding trimmed a mural of Celestine on the ceiling, the colors rich with jewel tones. The candlelit gloom, the scent of incense, and the heat of bodies sang to him like an old song.
He stood back, smiling. The vampires danced clumsily, though Zev didn’t dance at all. Mal, however, seemed not to have gotten the memo.
She took his wine glass and twirled it in her fingers. “I remember my father had one like this. It’s beautiful.”
“It was a birthday gift.”
She smiled. “Really? Did you like my mirror?”
“It’s on my dresser.”
Her smile widened and showed her teeth. “I wrote the card myself.”
“Did you?”
She nodded and thrust his glass at Emek. “Here. Do something.”
Emek’s face darkened, and Zev gave him a slight shake of his head before Mal pulled him out onto the dance floor. She grabbed his hand and slapped it on her hip.
“You can lead.”
He shook his head. “Thank you, I suppose.”
She flashed her fangs at him. Though he liked the way her hip filled his palm, as she had since she was a girl, she turned his insides to water.
“What did that troublemaker Camiel want?” she asked, circling him across the floor.
He huffed at her. “I thought I was supposed to lead.”
She batted her lashes. “You are.”
“Whatever.”
“Camiel?” she prompted.
He shrugged. “A gift? I don’t know. He offered me a reading.”
She pursed her lips, frowning at him for a moment. “Readings by Camiel are highly prized. Pricey too.”
“How do you know that? You don’t believe in that, do you?”
She waved her hand. “I disbelieve in far less. As far as Camiel is concerned, I keep track of my family. Rune and I are Nezzarrams. Rune more than me.”
That caught him by surprise.
He frowned at her. “Why do you say that?”
“I was Papa’s favorite. Rune was Mama’s. I don’t think she realized how much like Papa Rune really was though. Rune is dark and passionate, but I don’t think Mama ever saw how tormented by his honor he was too.”
“His honor?” Zev asked. “Are you trying to tell me something?”
“Is Camiel?”
“Most likely. I refused his gift.”
She cocked her head, a rueful smile on her face. The music stopped, and they stood still now. “You shouldn’t. You should know what he’s thinking.”
“That was his advice.”
“Nezzarrams,” she murmured. “I have a more important question though.”
“What is that?”
She leaned in, filling his senses with cinnamon and vanilla. “Why does your servant smell like Rune?”
33
Portal
Zev’s move was peculiar, not one Asa had expected. He set the tray he carried on the coffee table in front of the fire, reste
d his palms on either side of the chessboard, and leaned over it. The move gave the pieces a random appearance now. A free for all. Asa bit his lip. What was the vamp doing? Anything? Or was he just throwing a shiny object onto the floor and seeing if Asa would pick it up?
Games.
A smile tugged at Asa’s lips. He liked this side of his vampire. What was going on behind that pretty face?
He jerked his head up at the murmur of a voice behind the bedroom door. A soft, gray light filtered into the quiet study, the pine silhouettes outside the windows black and still. Though the bedroom door was ajar, the room was dark beyond it. Justin had asked him to collect Zev’s breakfast from the kitchen, but Asa had thought him asleep still.
Now he arose and crept to the door.
“Give them a job. They’re lazy.” Moss.
“Marry one of them.”
A door closed. Not a heavy one from the sound. The balcony door probably.
Moss chuckled, drawing nearer to the study. “Not even for you, cousin. They’d bleed the coffers dry on a single jaunt. Shopping is their favorite pastime, and they don’t have a brain between them. Honestly, Morjin and Og are hardly better.”
“I’ll talk to them next.”
“Ignore the sisters.”
“You think them harmless?” Zev asked.
“I don’t think they could rally agreement between themselves, let alone the families. I don’t see them as a threat to you unless… somebody can use them. They would do anything for money. And if they think you have a way to the treasure…”
“I don’t.”
Treasure?
“Avoid being alone with them.”
“I meet with the Orlas this afternoon. I think I’ll walk first,” said Zev. “Camiel said a storm is forming.”
“I thought Camiel was a fortune-teller not a meteorologist. Amazing he’s even here. This is the first time in—What? Six years?—since a Nezzarram attended.”
A laugh rolled out with Zev’s words. “That was a cousin, and she cursed me.”
“Oh yes,” said Moss. “Death threats being a time-honored tactic when negotiating release from exile.”
