“There is one place where you may find an answer.” Eloïse furrowed her brow. “In my investigation, I came across a reference to a secret archive in the Prague Library. It is said to contain texts dating back to the founding of the Holy Roman Empire—including, some believe, recordsLes Prophètes Illuminésmight have been after.”
Tension knotted Evander’s stomach. “A secret archive?”
Eloïse nodded. “It probably explains why the library is jealously guarded by the local authorities and the Prague Institute for the Arcane. Access is nearly impossible to obtain.” The princess’s expression was grim. “But I know someone who might have a way in. If the Crimson Codex exists, and if there are clues to its location anywhere in Europe, Prague is where I would look. I can arrange for my contact to tell you how to get into the library tomorrow.”
Evander met Viggo’s worried gaze, his mind racing.
“Then Prague is our next destination,” Evander said finally.
Victoria drummed her fingers on her knee where she sat next to Eloïse. “My tour continues to Salzburg in three days.” She levelled a steady gaze at Evander. “Prague is not far. I could arrange for your party to travel with my entourage as far as the Austrian border.”
“That would be most helpful,” Evander said.
“We should return to the reception,” Fairbridge advised politely. “We’ve been gone for a while.”
Eloïse nodded. She rose alongside Victoria and reached out to touch Evander’s arm briefly.
“Find them, Duke Ravenwood. Find whoever is behind this and make them pay for what they’ve done.” Her voice grew steely. “For Pieter. For Lina. For all the people who’ve died because of this conspiracy, mages and thralls alike.”
“We will,” Evander promised solemnly.
Viggo fell into step beside Evander as they took turns filing out of the gallery to return to the party.
“I wasn’t expecting the princess to be Leon’s informant,” he murmured.
Evander glanced at him, amusement lightening his mood for a moment. “I saw your face during the waltz. Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”
Colour crept up Viggo’s neck. “I wasn’t?—”
“You were.” Evander’s lips twitched. “For what it’s worth, the princess spent the entire dance discussing intelligence networks and assassination techniques. Not exactly romantic conversation.”
“Assassination techniques?”
“She has surprising depths.” Evander’s hand brushed against Viggo’s as they walked. It was brief, deliberate, and unseen byanyone else. “But she’s not the one I was thinking about during our dance.”
The simple words, spoken so quietly, had Viggo’s shoulders visibly loosening.
“Can I come to your room tonight?” the Brute said suddenly.
Evander faltered, vacillating between desire and duty. Duty won.
“We can’t.”
Viggo narrowed his eyes. Fairbridge disappeared round the corner head of them. The Brute glanced around to check no one was in the corridor with them before pulling a startled Evander into a shadowy alcove.
He crowded him against the wall, his heat enveloping Evander in a sultry cocoon that had him leaning instinctively into his lover, seeking more of the intoxicating warmth.
Viggo lowered his head and nipped at Evander’s ear, causing him to shudder.
“It has been three days, fifteen hours, and twenty minutes since we last made love.” The Brute cupped Evander’s backside possessively. “I want to be inside you.”
Evander’s cock throbbed to life, heat flooding his cheeks at the blunt declaration.
“Viggo—”
“Midnight,” Viggo said, his voice brooking no argument. “I’ll come to you.”
Evander opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. The truth was, he wanted Viggo just as desperately.
