Shadow's Claim

Chapter 34

After wiping his shirt over his torso, Trehan drew Bettina to him, tucking her body against his side. He pressed a kiss against her hair, satisfaction filling him.

Warm, sated Bride. Rain. Peace. Yes, he felt at peace when he held her.

Again, he asked himself, Why not this place? This could be his, she could be his. Together, he and Bettina would start a new house.

“I think you like it here,” she said, reading his thoughts.

“Yours is a swamp plane with frequent precipitation. I come from a cold realm with zero rain. Still, I could be so content with you here.”

“Truly?”

He lazily stroked her hair. “That’s not saying much, I’m afraid. I could be content on a hell plane with you by my side.”

He felt her smile against his chest. From his dreams of her, he knew that she’d once been quick to smile, a happy female who liked to laugh. But this tournament had disheartened her more than anyone could have guessed.

“Vampire, what else have you seen from my memories?”

He skimmed his thumb and forefinger along a glossy braid. “I saw that you fear taking the crown of this realm.”

“Shouldn’t I? I’m so different from everyone here—with no horns, no fangs, no strength. Sometimes I feel like an imposter.”

“You are precisely what Abaddon needs. Your subjects are warlike and raucous. A levelheaded, compassionate queen is the only thing that will keep your realm out of constant conflict. Especially during an Accession.”

“I never thought of it like that.” Then her tone turned contemplative. “I’m not really compassionate. I think bad things should happen to evil people.”

“If anyone is evil to you again, I guarantee they’ll meet a bad end. And that’s if you don’t get to them first. I experienced what it was like when you use your power.”

“You did? Which time?”

“When you took down two escaped ghouls. I can only imagine the pain you can inflict. Once you’re the Queen of Hearts again, I’ll pity your enemies.”

“My ability didn’t help me with the Vrekeners last time. Channeling it took a lot of concentration—which took time. My range was limited too.”

Trehan remembered that she’d had to aim her hands directly at the ghouls to affect them.

“Bett, when I first held a sword, I was too young even to swing it. You grow into a skill—you practice with it. It will become second nature.”

“And if I never get it back?”

“You will. Until then, I plan to help you steal another’s.”

She seemed startled by this.

“Did Morgana not propose the same to you?”

“Well, yes. But I could never make another Sorceri feel this way.”

“In any case, my offer stands.”

She seemed to muse over his words, then said, “You know so much about me. Won’t you tell me something about your life?”

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s Dacia like?”

“Strategically and mystically hidden. Very well defended.”

“Um, can you describe what it looks like for me?”

Her question made his lips curl. My artist halfling needs details. “Before you, I noted sights only for tactical advantages. But again, I will try,” he said, casting his mind back to the view from his balcony. “There’s a constant mist. It wisps along the cobblestone streets. Vast caverns soar above all. Fountains run with blood. The buildings are ancient, carved from the very mountain. Our black stone castle lies empty in the center of Dacia, like a bloodless heart.” A constant reminder of their failure to install a regent. Though not for much longer.

“Caverns? Does it smell like a cave?”

“No, it smells of cold and blood, which is pleasing to one like me.”

“It must be dark.”

“In the highest peak, there’s an opening capped with a gigantic crystal. It allows in filtered sunlight.”

“I can hardly imagine that.”

“I wish I could have shown you.” Talking of his kingdom only brought to mind how much he missed it. The frothing fountains, the mist, the majestic black keep.

How would Bettina have viewed Dacia? How many details would she have seen that had escaped his notice? They’d never know.

“What was your house like?”

“I lived in the royal library, among all the books.”

“You resided in a . . . library?”

“There were suites inside and great balconies that overlooked the city, but yes. I was most content among those shelves, so one night, I simply never left.” What would she think his dwelling choice said about him?

She seemed to be giving the matter serious consideration. Then she asked, “Do you have family there?”

“No siblings or parents. But many cousins.”

“Are you close to them?”

How to answer that?

“It’s not a difficult question.”

“I haven’t talked about myself in centuries. Every detail about me has been private—or already known among kinsmen. I’m not what you’d call a . . . a . . .” What was the modern term?

“A sharer?”

“Precisely. But I will try for you.”

She muttered, “To win it.”

“What was that?” When she shrugged, he said, “Very well,” and began describing his family. He recounted the blood vendettas and discord. The constant assassination attempts and battles.

He told her about siblings Kosmina and Mirceo, about hotheaded Viktor always spoiling for a fight. He briefly mentioned the hulking drunkard who was his cousin Stelian. He told her of Lothaire, their unbalanced potential king, and his human Bride—an impoverished mountain girl.

And of the other royal cousin so few knew about? That tale was better left for another night.

“It sounds like you hate your cousins.”

“I don’t, not really,” Trehan said with a weary sigh. “We’ve actually become cordial to a point. I’m just sworn to kill them, as they are me.”

“That’s really sad. Do you have no one you can trust?”

“I can trust one of them, and maybe another—but only in certain matters. My house wars with theirs constantly. I know nothing else.”

“What do you mean by house?”

“There are several arms of the Daciano family, each with its own house. Viktor is all that remains of The House of War, Stelian of the House of Paladin. Kosmina and Mirceo are the last of the House of Castellan.”

“And you, Prince of Shadow, must have represented the House of Shadow.”

“Exactly.” Except it’s no more. “Each house serves a purpose. Viktor is general of the army, the wrath of the kingdom. Stelian is the gatekeeper, deciding who enters our land. He’s the guardian of the kingdom. Kosmina and Mirceo guard the castle. They’re called the heart of the kingdom.”

“What were you called?”

“I was the sword of the kingdom.”

“The sword, but never the king? You said you were a contender?”

“Eventually duty would have compelled me to take the throne, but I never aspired to rule. I didn’t believe I was particularly suited for it.”

“And now?”

“Now I believe I could be a good king—if I have a clever queen by my side.” He pulled her tighter against him.

“Do you think this Lothaire will do well by Dacia?”

Trehan hiked his shoulders. “The throne is his. His house ruled since the beginning of the Dacians. The head of the kingdom.” Ironically, they’d been known for their dispassionate wisdom.

Lothaire—the red-eyed madman, raised among the fanatical Horde—wise?

“Vampire, you didn’t answer the question.”

“There are some admirable traits about him. If he and his Bride could ever settle down . . . if he can make Elizabeth immortal . . .” Trehan and his cousins had watched Lothaire calling in favors from his legendary debtors’ book, traveling all over the world. “He searches relentlessly for the means to transform her into a vampire.”

“A female?” Bettina asked. “I’ve never seen one.”

“In Dacia we have as many females as males. The plague that wiped out their number among the Horde has never entered our kingdom.”

“How can he turn her?”

“We believe he searches for a talisman. A mystical ring that could grant his greatest wish.”

She rose on her elbow to study his expression. “Did you ever see yourself with a vampire for a Bride?”

He eased over onto his side to face her. “Before my father died, he told me not to count on having a Bride—though if it was meant to be, I’d receive a daughter of Dacia to be mistress of my house.”

“Oh.” Her eyes glittered. With . . . jealousy? “But now you can never go back.”

“Do you think I would? Even if I could?” He brushed a lock from her forehead, unable to stop touching her. “I left for you—and I would make the same choice a thousand times over.”

She seemed to weigh this over in her head. What I wouldn’t give to know your thoughts right now.

“You sound tired,” she finally said. “Maybe you should return to your tent and rest.”

Even after this night’s victory with her, exhaustion weighed on him. He hadn’t slept a day through in weeks, and he hadn’t been drinking enough to sustain himself.

“I can sleep once this tournament—and your affections—are won. I feel I’m close on both scores.”

She stiffened. “Close to winning means close to killing Cas. Your speaking of your family only reminds me how close I am with him. He was there for me when my father died. He took care of me after the attack.”

“That eats at me.”

“Why?”

“It should have been me! You’re confusing loyalty with romantic attachment—and friendship for love. You haven’t experienced love to know the difference.”

“I know I love Cas.”

“Then you’re confusing two types of love. Over the centuries, I’ve witnessed it in all its incarnations.”

“Is one more important than the other?”

“They’re different.”

“Answer me, vampire,” she persisted. “Is one more important than the other?”

“In our case, yes.”

“Then say I could fall in love with you. And say I do only love Caspion as a friend. What happens to him? If you survive against Goürlav, you’re going to kill Cas.”

“I’m trapped in the tournament as much as you are, Bettina.”

“Who’s your most treasured friend? What if I had no choice but to murder him? How could we come back from that?”

“We’d find a way—because I’d know you had no choice. In time, you will forgive my actions.”

“Maybe I could forgive you, but I’d always be thinking about it,” she said. “It was because of me that Cas went to Dacia.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Raum ordered him to stop searching for the Vrekeners, Cas disappeared. He couldn’t take the frustration any longer, was about to go crazy. He must have met a Dacian who invited him to your realm.”

Frustration wasn’t the only reason Caspion had ventured into Dacia. Mirceo could be quite seductive, promising pleasures of the flesh that would boggle the mind of a randy young demon.

“I’m confused about so many things,” Bettina said. “But one thing I know: I could never get past the fact that you’d killed Cas.”

Trehan had believed she could eventually, that she’d see he had no choice. Now he doubted.

“The fact remains that I might not win,” he said. “And if this is my last night on earth, I don’t want to discuss the future till dawn. Let’s not think of it.”

In a quieter tone, she asked, “What do you want to do?”

As the rain softly fell, he drew her back down against his side, heartened when she stretched her arm over his chest. “Nothing more than this, Bett.”