“You didn’t come down here to jest about my spiritual practices, though, did you?”
He scoffs. “No. I came to tell you that I found a position for you in the kingdom.” He raises his chin. “You will be New Stygarde’s stable manager.”
I halt outside the back entrance. Did I hear him right? “Stable manager?”
“It’s what we need right now,” Brahm says, and I catch something wicked flash through his expression. “The only opening in the castle. It’s honest work, although I can understand if you’re too proud.”
“Hmm?” I step in closer to him. What is his angle here?
“I can have Banias escort you from the property if the position is distasteful to you. If you were expecting more after all this time, I can’t help you. You may have been a prince once, but I hope you can accept that this is a new kingdom. Those days are gone.” We’re so close, our noses almost touch. Our gazes wrestle for dominance. I glance in the direction of the guard, who is a great deal closer now.
A lightly veiled threat, then. One born out of fear that I might try some claim to the throne, if I were to guess.
“I am not too proud, brother. I will be your stable manager.”
Brahm jolts as if surprised. “Uh, excellent. You’ll start tomorrow.”
I bow. “If there’s nothing else, it is late and I’ve come a long way.”
Brahm shakes his head slowly.
I break apart and head for the forest. I need to hunt before I return to Eloise.
5
A Visit from the Queen
ELOISE
My head feels like there’s an ax in it.
In hindsight, I should have rested before trying my magic again. But with Damien gone and nothing else to do, I couldn’t resist giving it a go. I tried calling Phantom first. That ended in me collapsing to my knees and clutching my pounding skull. After that, I found a candle and figured I’d start at the beginning. Producing a flame is something I can do in my sleep, one of the first spells I learned from Maeve. God, I miss Maeve.
Only, the wick doesn’t light. I try all the tips and tricks Maeve taught me, all the relaxation techniques. Nothing works. Every time I focus my intention on the wick, it feels like a railroad spike is being hammered into my skull.
“Fuuuuck!” I say quietly, bringing my forehead to the dark wood floor. I’d scream if I knew that no one would hear me, but the way this room is designed, open to the night air, I’m afraid every servant in the place would come running.
I raise my fingers to my nose, and they come away covered in blood. Great. I’ve officially overused my magic without using it at all. With a huff, I abandon the candle and find the bathroom.
For being a different world, some things here are exactly what I’m used to. The decor, in general, reminds me of a luxury rustic vibe, with roughhewn ceiling beams, wrought-iron fixtures, and horns and tusks strategically used in the chandeliers and wall art. The only difference is that the grain of the wood is like nothing I’ve ever seen. The metal fixtures look human enough, but the antlers and tusks are not from any earthly animal.
Still, the bathroom, thank all that is holy, resembles the human version enough that I can find what I need to wash my face and hands. I guess there are only so many ways to accommodate humanoid anatomy, and thank the gods, shades and elves have two legs and two arms.
I have a small towel shoved halfway up my gushing nostril when a knock comes from the main room. My eyes narrow. Who could that be? I decide not to answer it. Damien literally threw himself over the railing to exit the castle. Certainly, he’ll return the same way, right? Only, what if there was some kind of one-way magic at play? What if he had to use the door because he couldn’t come back the way he left? Would he know about such a change? Not after being gone so long, I assume.
The knock comes again.
I drop the towel on the counter and splash water on my face. The bleeding’s stopped. After double-checking that my hands and face are clean, I make my way to the door, smoothing my sweater as I go. There’s no peephole, so I open it carefully.
Nevina stands on the other side, a copper-haired servant laden down with a pile of fabric at her side. I’ve only cracked the door, but the elf pushes it the rest of the way open.
She’s holding a small silver platter in her opposite hand. Thrusting it toward me, she demands something that sounds like “wimpersail.”
Confused, I look down at the tray. There’s a purple, jelly-like candy the size and shape of a gumdrop at the center of its polished diameter. “Wimpersail?”
Nodding vigorously, Nevina stretches her mouth into a smile. She points at the gumdrop and then at her mouth, then again at the gumdrop and at my mouth. I have no idea what wimpersail means, but it’s pretty clear she wants me to eat the candy. I get the sense this is not a request but a demand from the queen. Only problem is, I don’t eat. I’m a vampire. I don’t exactly know what will happen if I eat regular food. I never asked anyone in Night Haven if they’d tried it before. Will it hurt me in some way? Will I become ill until I’ve purged it from my system? Will I be able to swallow it at all?
Nevina is waiting, making the hand motion and saying the word louder, as if that will make me suddenly understand the language. Damien made it clear that we’ll have to rely on Brahm’s and her hospitality, at least for the short term. I don’t want to piss her off on our first night here.
