“And why would I agree to that?”
“Because I won’t go through with this unless my terms are met.Allof my terms.”
“You are lucky King Lucian specified that my choice of bride must be willing, and he’d know if you weren’t.” Her eyes bore into me now, hard and sharp as flint. “Very well. I agree to your terms.Allof them.”
“I want it in writing.” I straightened my shoulders as I held her gaze. “A contract, signed in blood and sworn by the Moon.”
“You dare to ask for such a thing?” she spat, the thin veneer of civility finally falling away as her face twisted with rage.
“I do. Because Iknowyou. You’ll try to find a way to break your word. This way, you’ll have no choice but to keep it unless you want to face the consequences.”
For a moment, I thought she would refuse, that she would lash out at me for my audacity, but then, slowly, she nodded.
“I will sign your precious contract, in blood and sworn by the Moon. Then you will sign King Lucian’s. Do we have an agreement?”
As I gave her a brusque nod, I felt a surge of triumph, of pride. I had outwitted Arabesque, forced her to agree to my terms. I had proven to myself that I didn’t need magic to come out on top. My wit would do.
Oh, I knew she’d be out for blood, want revenge, might even find a way to outmaneuver me, but I had won freedom for Josslyn and Brumous. No matter what fate had in store forme, they at least were safe.
And that made everything absolutely worth it in the end.
#
Arabesque Harrow Bell
I sat behind my desk, the dim glow of my reading lamp casting long shadows across the polished wood. My daughters, Amabel and Eluned, stood in the doorway, their silhouettes sharp against the brighter hallway light. The sudden summons after dinner had clearly piqued their curiosity, although they masked it well. Or tried to.
“Come in, darlings,” I said, my voice smooth like silk mingled with a hint of honey. I motioned them closer, relishing the way their expressions danced between excitement and trepidation. “We need to discuss something quite important.”
Amabel moved with the grace of a predator, her sharp features illuminated by the dim light. Her eyes, cold and calculating, met mine without flinching. Beside her, Eluned shifted, her softer features framed by a tumble of vibrant hair. She had already begun to fidget, her wide eyes darting around the room as if seeking answers from the dust motes swirling in the lamplight.
“Is it about the new wards you’re experimenting with?” Amabel asked, her brow furrowing slightly.
“Something far more thrilling,” I replied, leaning forward, letting a small smile play upon my lips. “Serafina has signed a marriage contract.”
Silence stretched for a moment before the laughter began. A delighted cackle from Eluned, a sharp giggle from Amabel.
“Oh, that isprecious,” Amabel said between breaths. “Worthless? Married off? To whom, some crusty old warlock desperate enough to take a milkmaid witchling?”
“No, no. Not at all! She’s marrying one of King Lucian’s sons.”
“Wed into the royal court?” Eluned hissed. “Why shouldshebe honored like that?”
“Honored?” I chuckled softly, shaking my head. “No, no, my darlings, you misunderstand. She is beingused, of course. A pawn, no more than that. A sacrificial lamb, if you will.”
That silenced them both. Amabel’s brows rose in surprise as Eluned narrowed her eyes, and I waited for them to process it, curious to see which of them would realize the full scope of my design. Once Serafina was married off to some insipid vampire prince, I’d have a direct line into the royal court. While chipping away at King Julian’s werewolf kingdom, I could monitor King Lucian’s, and soon both thrones would be within my grasp.
And my poor stepdaughter. Sheactuallythought she was escaping. Being brave. Showing spirit.
Unfortunately for her, it was only a temporary reprieve.
For herandthat baby.
I had no need for the infant at the moment. I’d allowed Serafina to bear the burden of sleepless nights and soiled linens, of teething wails and clumsy little hands grasping for comfort. I had neither the patience nor the inclination to coddle something so fragile, not when my time was far better spent securing my own power.
And now others could soften the girl with lullabies and love before I claimed what was rightfully mine.
If she was anything like her father, the girl would be weak. Too kind, too trusting. Jonathan had been a fool, blinded by love at first and convinced I had been his to keep. A shame, really. He had been beautiful before I locked him down and drained him dry. If his daughter inherited even a sliver of his docility, she would never be a threat.
