Skartovius scoffed. He took a leisurely stance against the wall near the door, oddly keeping his distance from me. His gold-tinged crimson eyes remained fixed on my body, bringing a fresh bout of goosebumps trailing along my flesh.
The towering vampire was unnerving, his gaze heating my flesh with fear and something else I didn’t want to face.
“Friends?” he asked, unimpressed by his thrall’s choice of word. “Hardly. It is not friendship I seek.” He pushed off the wall, rolling into a tangent that spoke of his noble blood. “Why, the very thought of it evokes human infirmity and sensations of compassion, empathy, and—”
“Yes, yes, all the things that make the lesser half of my bloodline weak and frail, Master. So you’ve said.” Garroway rolled his eyes at Skartovius.
My eyes veered between them. From fighting Garroway and seeing Skartovius kill Lukain, I knew they were both lightning fast. My sword would do little to aid me unless I kept them perfectly within sight.
Something else startled me but didn’t ease my edge. Skartovius Ashfen was much more relaxed around his thrall than he was within his own court. He stood tall, yes, but not rigid over those he deemed beneath him. Not lashing out at his thrall’s interjection further confirmed it.
The nobleblood pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his narrow chest. “Put the sword down, little temptress. I will not harm you.”
“I have a name,” I snapped in reply.
“A brat gets called what she deserves.”
Fear and frustration joined on my face, reddening my cheeks. “Y-You killed him!” I yelled, keeping a sweaty hold on my sword. “Lukain. One of yourown.”
“Only because he tried to kill me first.” He took a step toward me. His boots were unnaturally quiet on the floor.
Every fiber of my being tensed, constricted. I had nowhere left to backpedal. I swallowed hard in preparation for my end. “Liar!” I snapped, trying to stall him. “I saw him flee out the window. He was running.”
Skartovius’ smooth and deep voice flowed through the room. “You did not see any of what happenedbeforehe burst through that window.”
It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t let him confuse me with his ethereal beauty and intense eyes. There was an aura of danger surrounding Lord Ashfen. “You killed one of your own . . .” I repeated, though the fight had left my words. I was meek,sounding like a beggar. I didn’t want to die here, and with every step closer he took, I felt my impending doom flare in my bones.
Skartovius got within three paces of me and stopped. My legs shook and I danced on the balls of my feet—
And lashed out with my sword, knowing if he drew any closer, I was finished.
The nobleblood moved in a blur, faster than I could see. One second he was within the arc of my blade, the next he was beside me, wrapping me up in something like an embrace from the side. His spindly hand held my outstretched arm and pinned it to his side, immobilizing me as he bent my elbow at an unnatural angle.
The sword in my hand trembled and rattled. Wincing in pain, sweat dotting my brow, I was forced to release it before he could snap my arm. He could have done it easily, too, judging by the sheer lack of effort on his face.
Despite being a tall woman, I was forced to crane my neck to stare into his eyes. I was startled by what I saw. His irises had darkened like a ravenous animal’s, boring into mine at close distance. There was coldness in his gaze . . . yet an understanding I couldn’t place. It almost looked like pity or rage or sadness.
His warm voice washed over my face as my sword clattered uselessly to the ground, and he showed no alarm at my violent outburst. “Lukain Mortis was a half-blood bastard born wretched and living in filth and squalor. I am a nobleblood from generations of royal descendants. We are not the same.”
He lightly pressed on my side and I skittered away once he unhanded me. My hands closed into fists as I backpedaled to another corner of the room, feeling every bit like a mouse being surrounded and played with.
Skartovius’ words repeated in my head and I found myself stupidly lowering my fists. “LukainMortis? That was not his name.”
“As I’m sure he told you.”
More confusion, more secrets, more alarm. I couldn’t escape it in this damned place. For the first time in my life I missed Nuhav. Before yesterday and today, I hadn’t thought that possible.
“The only ‘Mortis’ I ever heard was in reference to a woman—aMistress Mortis. Lukain was anything but a woman.”
A slight curl twitched at the corner of his full lips. “I’m sure you would know.”
Shame and embarrassment made my cheeks darken again. “Silence, you villainous monster.”
“You have many creative names for your liberators.”
I nudged my chin at Garroway over his shoulder, the thrall paying close attention to our heightened conversation. He had not acted when I attacked Lord Ashfen, in defense against me or for me, and I knew I could not trust him.How could I have been so foolish to think I couldevertrust him?
“Liberator, savior, rescuer,” I said, baring my teeth in a snarl. “You have many names for yourselves. Yet all I see are two creatures of the night, damned to lives of incessant bloodthirst and horrible deeds.”
