Not like this,I thought.Not in public where he’ll be dragged to a table and used as a main course for hungry beasts.
“Look around, Bay,” I whispered in his ear. “This is the grandeur and comfort we wished for all those years ago.”
He choked an answer—
As the pommel of my dagger connected with the back of his skull.
Baylen collapsed forward in an unconscious heap.
The sound of angry murmurs sifted through the crowd. I stood tall, facing Lord Skartovius Ashfen and his throne. He was the only one not standing, the only one paying attention to me more than the inert body at my feet.
“This match is over,” I announced to him. “I am victorious, Lord Ashfen.” My hand swept out to the side, gesturing at a table where the previous Grimson was splayed out like Kemini had been, chest open, goblets filled. “There is no need to supply this man to your court when you already have a full supper at your fingertips.”
Skartovius stood slowly. His voice was calm and low yet booming enough for all in the ballroom to hear. “You do not dictate my court’s dinner menu. Your pity and empathy is your weakness, Sephania Lock.”
I opened my mouth to argue—
His lifted finger cut me off, so sudden I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. This was the power of an elder vampire, a being that could control the blood in my very body, it seemed.
“Bring the wounded fighter to the rooms,” he told one of his minions, before facing me with his sinfully attractive visage twisting with the first sign of wicked emotion. “Bring the lady to a room of her own. You will not leave this manor until you stand before me in victory or defeat.Thisis not victory.”
He growled the last sentence, disgusted.
His threat was clear: Whether it was Baylen or me, only one of us would be leaving Manor Marquin alive.
Chapter 24
I sat in a room much like the ornate bedchamber Lord Ashfen had allowed me to use during my first visit to the manor, for recovery. This time, I needed no recovery.
Two fullbloods waited outside my door as guards.
As the hours dragged on, I began to pace. My mind was shifting, twisting into madness as I pored over everything.
I pulled the velvet curtains of the window back to peer at the bright moon overlooking Olhav. The buildings in the splendid city touched the sky and created a metropolis of gold tinting to hide vampires from the sun.
Perhaps I can wait long enough for the sun to rise. Once all the vampires here sleep, I can escape.
I knew it was a foolish notion. It was something Lord Ashfen would prepare for, undoubtedly. I wasn’t even sure if theyneededsleep, so long as the blinds and curtains were drawn tight in this mansion.
My pacing resumed, eyes cast to the lush rugs under my feet. My head shook as thoughts swirled.
Master Lukain did not visit me in the hours I was a prisoner of Skartovius Ashfen. I had no idea if Rirth or Culiar had survived their bouts, or which of the women were chosen. I was being kept in the dark, punished for allowing Baylen Sallow to live.
“The one . . . tasted . . . cursed . . . rid me.”
Lukain’s words to his shadowy messenger. The four-fingered accomplice had spoken about a Mistress Mortis. Their hushed conversation repeated like an earworm.
The idea Lukain had abandoned me, just like everyone I’d ever known, roared in my mind, until the fire was as sure as anything real.
Is he even still at the manor? The fighting and debauchery in the ballroom must surely be finished by now. So what am I waiting for?My gaze narrowed on the locked door of my comfortable prison.How am I supposed to do what Lord Ashfen asks if he keeps me caged in here with vampire sentinels standing guard?
To pass the time, I tried to piece together the faint conversation I’d heard over the alley. I stuck in every word I could think of that would complete the sentences, until I thought I landed on the most logical.
She. . . is the one.
I. . . have tasted her.
She. . . has cursed me.
