Vinciel looks over his shoulder as he immerses his hands in the water, giving me a calculating look. “Who travels here in the middle of winter? What kind of idiot travels here at all?”
I return his look with a shrug. Although I’ve withdrawn from the politics of the Rahavan Court, I’m still sought out by the occasional visitor. From minor nobles to grifters to cunning merchants; and even spies disguised as the latter, there are those that will brave the wilds of Tyron to pay their respects to the crown prince of Rahava.
But this is the first time a woman has come into my domain.
The very thing I feared might happen…
It happened.
I lost control.
And if it happened again—if I had the opportunity to taste her again—there is a part of me that would not mind at all.
“We shall see,” I say quietly, carefully concealing the sudden heat that flares inside me. “I will have the servants prepare lodgings and bring him down. I trust you will be monitoring the patient during the early stages of his recovery.”
“Of course. It is my duty as a physician.”
“Another thing, Ciel. This man’s companions will soon arrive. One of them is a woman. I want you to give her a full check-up. Make sure she is not displaying any signs of ill-health.”
Ciel dries his hands on a towel and turns to face me. He pulls his spectacles from his bloodstained pocket and puts them on, his eyes narrowed behind the crystalline lenses. “A woman,” he says flatly.
“Yes.”
“You have already encountered her?”
“Yes.”
“Then you have…?”
I regard him with a cool stare. “Yes, I have.”
Ciel’s left eyebrow curves upwards. He knows a lot more about my condition than most. He knows I do not permit women to reside in Edinvar because their bloodscent tempts me to the point of near-madness.
He even has his theories as to why.
“I will examine her for signs of anaemia, then.” My physician lets out a wry chuckle. “It isn’t the end of the world, Corvan.”
I frown. I can’t afford such weaknesses, even when I crave them so badly.
“So tell me. Have you become a depraved monster yet?”
I shrug. “No idea.”
A look of disapproval crosses Ciel’s elegant features. “You can’t keep avoiding the issue, you know. There’s only so long that you can continue to depend on offerings from the tribes to quell your thirst. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to learn to control it.”
I turn to leave. “I did not request your counsel on the matter, Vinciel.” My tone is cold. “Although I appreciate your efforts in saving this lad’s life.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Realizing that he has overstepped, Ciel’s tone becomes formal.
“I will receive your report tomorrow, in my office. Enjoy the rest of your Seinmas. Ciel.”
“I don’t think I quite have the appetite for Iacovan Quaternian Physics anymore,” he mutters. “Maybe some good old fashioned smut will cheer me up.”
I leave him amidst his books and medicines and equipment, glancing at the patient as I head for the door.
The young man looks a little better, at least. The pallor in his cheeks isn’t quite as bad anymore. The shadows around his eyes are a little lighter.
What the fuck were you doing, nameless lad, coming to my lands in the middle of winter, so poorly equipped, and with her in your company?
I still haven’t figured out who I need to be furious with.
Or who I need to kill.
11
FINLEY
The guest dining room of Tyron Castle feels so different from the cold, cavernous hall in Ruen where we used to take our meals.
The three of us are seated at a round table. The chairs are comfortable; cushioned and deep, with polished wooden armrests. A fire burns in the hearth, suffusing the room with warmth.
Although the walls and floors are bare stone; raw and unrefined and brutal, the furnishings are luxurious. The silken rug on the floor is large and impossibly fine, deep red and woven with an intricate floral tapestry.
Its color reminds me of blood; of the crimson that was all over that pale demon’s lips.
My blood.
A sliver of heat unfurls in my chest and shoots downwards, slipping into my core, dancing between my thighs. I go perfectly still as the memory of his touch invades my mind.
He bit me. Not only that, he did it without my permission, restraining me while he took what he damn well pleased.
I should be repulsed, but the torrent of emotion coursing through me is more complicated than that. I can’t forget the way he released me; the momentary look of confusion on his face, as if he himself was shocked at what he’d done.
I can’t forget the way he immediately agreed to render assistance to Aderick, with no questions asked.
At least, I hope that’s what he’s done.
It’s out of our hands now.
“You okay, Fin?” Kastel leans forward, his hazel eyes filled with worry.
“I, uh…” Heat rises in my cheeks. “Why do you ask, Kastel?”
“You look a little flustered, that’s all. But it’s understandable.” He leans back in his seat and lets out a long sigh, running his fingers through his tawny hair. “That thing wasn’t human. I shouldn’t have let him take Aderick.”
“What choice did we have?” Garan is seated across from me. Dark-haired, stubble-faced, and powerfully built, he’s completely transformed from the skinny, lanky youth I used to scold when he and my brothers played pranks on me.
He’s shed his leather armor. His grey undertunic is flecked with blood. “There’s no way Kastel or I could have fought that guy. You saw the way he moved. Inhumanly fast. But I didn’t sense ill intentions from him. He would’ve just killed us all if that was the case. Anyhow, the Archduke sent out an escort, just like the demon said he would. I wouldn’t be surprised if that bastard and Archduke Duthriss are connected.”
“What makes you say that?” Unease turns my thoughts cold.
“Well, they say the war changed him. The arcane magic the barbarians used against our soldiers… that he embraced it. There’s speculation he’s even made alliances with some of them. That he turns a blind eye to the dark magic they practice, in exchange for power.
“But it’s forbidden,” I murmur. In Rahava, the use of arcane magic is highly illegal and punishable by death. Arcane magic is connected to death, and death should stay in Hecoa’s domain.
Is drinking blood… a form of arcane magic, then?
That strange man I encountered… was he a warlock?
“Why do you think we came after you?” Kastel leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I cannot believe father did this to you, Finley. This grand building project of his has driven him mad.”