Shadow's Claim (41 page)

“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.”

T
rehan returned Bettina to her spire just before the sun rose, laying her in bed, pulling the cover over her.

They’d talked the rest of the night about their pasts, their hopes, and their fears, until reality intruded with the growing light.

“You look tired.” Her expression had grown pensive. “I wish I could do something to stop tonight’s fight.”

“We are all bound by the language in our contracts.”

“What are you going to do with Goürlav?”

“
Win,
I hope.”

“I’m serious. How do you kill a creature who mustn’t be harmed? What can I do to protect my people if you injure him?”

“I don’t plan to.”

“Pardon?”

“The tales of the primordials are true. When they’re wounded, their blood is catastrophic.”

“Tell me.”

“Legend holds that serpents, scorpions, and arachnids first spawned from other primordials, from drops of their blood—except that the original blood-born Child Terrors are as large as dragons,” he said. “The only strike I can make against Goürlav is a kill strike.”

She bit her lip, her face pale with worry. “Will you stay with me until the match?”

To join her in that bed and spend a lazy day talking, touching . . . ? But he couldn’t. “I have much to do.” He would deny himself in the coming hours, then reap the rewards later. An eternity of lazy days.
If I live.
“Should I fail tonight, it won’t be from lack of preparation.”

“You won’t try to sleep?”

“My Bride cares for my well-being?”

She quietly said, “You know I do.”

A victory! His plan
was
working. Optimism filled him. “No male could be more motivated to live.” He cupped her nape. “If you’re within reach, I won’t go down easily, if at all. Know that, Bettina.” With a final lingering kiss, Trehan forced himself to trace away.

Back in his tent, he replayed all he’d learned over the night. One thing stood out—her insistence that she couldn’t move past Caspion’s death.

Survive Goürlav; kill Caspion; lose Bettina? There had to be some way out of this bind.

Suddenly, the tents flaps flew open and Morgana sauntered inside.

“What do you want?”

“Yes, yes, you’re welcome for my assistance with my
winsome goddaughter. By the way, the ‘tour’ was all
my
doing.” She sat on his desk, much as Bettina had. Now it irritated him. “I’ve come because I want to know how you reached the air territories.”

“I have ways. What concern is it of yours?”

“Great concern. One of my Sorceri subjects is likely being held against her will in Skye Hall. She was rumored to have been taken there directly after she escaped from a group of humans who imprison and experiment upon Loreans. Needless to say, she’s
having a bad run of it
. So I’ll ask you once more. How did you get to the air territories?”

He decided to take another page from Lothaire’s playbook. “I expect I’ll need more
assistance
with Bettina in the future. Perhaps we’ll bargain in the days to come.”

Behind her mask, she looked intrigued. “And if you die tonight?”

He didn’t think this sorceress could affect the outcome of the match, but he might as well motivate her, just in case. “If I die, my secret dies with me.”

Light danced in her palms, sorcery at the ready. But she didn’t strike out against him. “You’re very fortunate that I need something from you, Prince of Shadow.” She turned to leave. At the exit, she said over her shoulder, “Should you live, we’ll speak soon.”

Alone once more, he reviewed what he needed for his match. But he was as prepared as possible—or he would be if Honorius came through.

Trehan considered trying to sleep; yet no matter how fatigued he was, his mind wouldn’t rest. Would his problems only begin if he defeated Goürlav?

Some way out of this bind . . .

His gaze landed on the contract scroll, the one with all the rules. The one that was at least a foot in diameter. He already knew it’d been written in old Demonish.

It would take a normal scholar weeks to read through, much less translate.
Luckily, I’m no normal scholar.
With a weary exhalation, he set to his task.

The things I do for my Bride.

“What are the odds?” Bettina asked Salem, gnawing a nail.

It was late in the afternoon. Morgana and her Inferi had long since come and gone, leaving Bettina cosmeticized, masked, and formally dressed.

She’d been unable to sleep today, lightly dozing and then shooting awake with nerves. Though the vampire had made no mention of returning before the fight, she’d thought he might drop by or send a message.

Nothing.

“Bookies are laying three-fifty to one.”

“Three
hundred
and fifty?” She pinched her forehead.

“Yeah, you’d basically have to have inside info to take on those odds,” Salem said. “If someone—not me or you, of course, but
someone
—had spent the night wiv one of the competitors and gleaned intel, then someone—of course not me or you—could clean up.”

“The only thing I know is that the vampire is highly motivated.” And that he’d been exhausted. What if he still hadn’t slept? What if it did finally affect his fighting? “Did you uncover any of Goürlav’s weaknesses?”

“None. Just heard horror stories about Child Terrors. I don’t suppose Abaddon’s defenses include anything atomic?”

She shook her head. “Will you come with me to watch the fight?”

“A domestic at the grand table?” Salem sounded amused.

“Come on, it’s not like anyone will see you.”

Silence.

Bettina realized that she’d offended him, and she hadn’t meant to. How could he not be sensitive about his circumstances? During this tournament, he’d become much more to her than a servant, and now she’d hurt him. “Salem, I’m sorry.”

“Princess, I might be invisible now, but I used to be a sight to behold, a regular vision, wiv a swagger you had to
see
to believe. This corporeally challenged domestic is declining your invite.”

When he shimmered away, she attacked her regrown nail. She’d fix this with him in the future. Right now, all she could think about was her vampire.

My vampire.

Maybe his blooding was doing a number on her own sense of possessiveness. Maybe after last night, she was helpless not to picture herself with him.

But even as worry for him besieged her, she recognized that she wasn’t yet ready to surrender completely to him.

And he did want her to surrender.
Tell me you’ll let me do anything to you. Tell me you’re mine—

Finally she remembered why those words were so important to him! She’d said them the first night she’d been with Daciano, when she’d been so drunk.

When she’d believed he was Caspion.

The vampire wanted her to say such things and mean
him
.

How maddening it must be for him to know how she had felt about Cas.

Wait,
had
felt . . . ?
I’m so confused.

And in the midst of her confusion, she wanted to be with one person, to talk to
one
person—Daciano.

She would
never
get to speak to him again if he lost.
Three-hundred-and-fifty-to-one odds say he’s about to.

Unacceptable. He was most likely already in the sanctum.
I’ll go to him there.