“Speaking of sunshine,” Kaithar lowers his voice. “I noticed you’re not cloaked up like a Vikurian desert-nomad for once.”
I give him a long, hard look. “Kaith, the sunlight doesn’t affect me anymore. Ever since I drank from her.”
He lets out a low whistle. “I take back what I said about coincidences. Your father, that wily old geezer, definitely chose her on purpose. I’ll wager he knows exactly what she is—and that you wouldn’t be able to resist her. If you really want to know, why don’t you go pay him a visit?”
Anger grips me. “That’s probably what he wants. It’s probably what he’s expecting.” It could be a trap. “I’ll seek my own answers first. I’m going to pay Baron Solisar a visit soon. Notify the guards so they can prepare for my arrival. I’ll question him myself. Alone.”
Kaithar delicately balances a cluster of peas on his fork. “Well, it’s about bloody time. We’re all getting sick and tired of his whinging.”
“If he doesn’t understand why I’ve locked him up by now, then he never will.” Am I so terrible if I’m actually looking forward to putting the fear of the Goddess into him? “Another thing. Finley, her brother Kastel, and his friend are to be invited to tonight’s festivities. If Aderick feels up to it, he can join too, but there’s no pressure from me. Gerent is to arrange for them to be seated at my table.”
“I’ll tell him. But go easy on the lads, Corvan. They’re just kids. We both know what it’s like to be young and stupid.”
A faint smile crosses my lips as I remember our first encounter. Kaithar was one of the most promising recruits the Academy had seen in a while. Young, dangerous, and cocky. Physically gifted. An absolute terror on the training ground. And he didn’t like me because he thought I was arrogant.
He’s always been a good judge of character.
I smile. “I just want to get to know my future brothers-in-law.”
“Hmph. Anything else I can do for you, Your Highness?”
“Send a man to Sanzar. I need a drink in the form of a woman’s blood. Any woman will do, but she should be of child-bearing years, and preferably in the middle of her cycle. Give her a taelin for her trouble.”
Kaithar’s eyes widen. “I thought you’d sworn against doing that kind of thing. And you’ve got her, now. Are you, uh… troubled by the thirst again?”
“Not at all. But I have my reasons. Don’t ask, Kaith. Just get it done.”
Now that I’ve tasted heaven, I need to know if anything else compares.
The darkness in me already knows it won’t.
22
FINLEY
In the warm bedchambers, drenched in gentle afternoon light, I lie cocooned in soft silken sheets and toasty bedcovers. The mattress is impossibly comfortable, cradling my weary bones.
I’m exhausted. Confused. Wracked with worry and a little afraid.
And there’s something else. A certain giddiness. Because of him.
My fatigue evaporates. I slide out of bed, feeling restless, wondering what I should do. Check on the boys? Explore the castle?
I should visit my brother first. Then, I’ll go to the stables and check on the poor old quarter horse that saved Aderick’s life. That’s what I’ve wanted to do all along—before we were so rudely interrupted by father’s arrival.
A knot forms in my chest. Corvan locked my father in his dungeons. Father, who always seemed so big and intimidating; whose presence made me so tense and anxious…
To a man like Corvan Duthriss, he’s probably no more significant than an insect. A small, wicked part of me hopes he’ll stay locked down there forever—until he dies. And I suspect Corvan wouldn’t bat an eyelid if I asked him to keep him there.
But I should probably vouch for him more, if only for the sake of our family.
As I slide my feet into a pair of fur-lined slippers, I hear a gentle knock on the door. My heart flutters. What if it’s him?
“Come in,” I say loudly.
The door opens. A familiar figure enters. A small puff of relief escapes my lips, contradicting the tinge of disappointment.
It isn’t him.
It’s Gerent, accompanied by no less than four young men wearing servants’ uniforms. They’re hardly past their teenage years—lean, fresh-faced, and clean-shaven with neatly trimmed hair and impeccably tailored suits.
Their arms are laden with packages—flat boxes, large velvet bags, mysterious items wrapped in paper.
“Goodness,” I exclaim. “What’s all this, now?”
“Good afternoon, my lady.” Gerent bows. “Please excuse our intrusion. We have brought a curation of items from the finest tailors, seamstresses, jewellers, and bootmakers in Sanzar. As they haven’t yet had a chance to take your measurements, there are a range of sizes for you to try on. I hope some of these will be to your liking. Micah, Lyell, Rosven, and Daron will unpack and present the items for your perusal. Would you like them to remain and assist, or would you prefer to browse in privacy?”
I look at the young servants; at their carefully neutral expressions, at the lavish piles of mysterious, perfectly packaged items.
I frown. I’m not used to such extravagance. Did Corvan have something to do with this, or did Gerent just go overboard?
“Gerent,” I say gently, “I very much appreciate your efforts to ensure I’m taken care of. I’m more than certain I’ll find something that’s to my liking.” I turn and smile at the servants, concealing the fact that I feel more than a little awkward right now. I wave them away. “Just leave everything here. I’ll take care of unpacking it all.”
I’m not used to such treatment; to being waited on hand and foot. In Ruen Castle, I did most things myself, and my daily attire was simple and comfortable.
I pray to the Goddess that all these fancy bags and boxes don’t contain the frilly monstrosities that Lady Dorava claims are all the rage in the capital.
How is an archduke’s wife supposed to dress? Will Corvan even care if I’m not attired in the latest fashions?
“Arrange everything as the lady requests,” Gerent orders. “Footwear by the chair. Clothing on the bed. Outerwear on the bench. Jewelry on the dressing table. Untie all ribbons and strings so that she can easily open everything.”
The young servants get to work; discreetly, efficiently. It’s as if they’re performing a choreographed dance. All I can do is stand and watch as bags, boxes, and and cases are arranged and sorted into orderly piles and rows.
Sweet Eresus, there’s a lot of stuff here.
“One more thing, my lady.”
“Yes, Gerent?”
“The Archduke would like to formally extend to you an invitation to this evening’s event. There is to be a banquet and a fighting tourney in the great hall, commencing at sundown. His Highness would be delighted if you would grace us with your presence. The invitation is also extended to all members of your party from Ruen.”
My heart leaps into my throat. I try to imagine what such a scene would look like; Corvan himself—intense, enigmatic, crimson-eyed—presiding over a hall of festivities with my brothers and Garan in attendance.