Louis
I’d been waiting in the throne hall for a fucking hour, smiling at every royal guard just to creep them out. They’d all made a point of not meeting my eyes. I’d come alone instead of bringing my own guards. I just wanted to get in, get this over with, and get the hell out.
My father loved his power plays. Making me wait was just another reminder of who wore the crown.
I adjusted my tuxedo for the third time, the fabric hanging looser than it should. Five weeks without Barbie’s blood had cost me fifteen pounds. My cheekbones were sharp enough to cut glass. The other courtiers had noticed—vampires always noticed weakness—but none dared comment. Not to the prince’s face, at least.
A servant scrambled toward me with a third glass of blood wine, disturbing my train of thought. I took a sip as I studied the room. I seldom came to court since starting at the academy. The entire space reeked of old blood and older power, all obsidianmarble and the imposing black opal throne. Silver and gold adorned most surfaces. Silver was lethal to shifters, and the throne room was designed to repel any perceived shifter attack.
Just as I decided to abandon the throne hall to track down the king myself, steeled to suffer the consequences if he was in the middle of feeding, the massive silver door groaned open.
King Malik entered with a theatrical flair only an ancient vampire could pull off, his expensive cape sweeping across the floor of polished black opal. His face was a mirror of my own, layered with a century of malice and arrogance. The same pale blue eyes, the same aristocratic nose, the same mouth that defaulted to a cruel sneer.
He didn’t acknowledge my presence for another five minutes, making a show of examining documents a servant had handed him. I stood perfectly still, resisting the urge to tap my foot, and let my mind wander to more interesting matters than my father’s power trips.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Barbie and Sy, now the most powerful beings among us. Barbie had turned my world upside down, her blood ruining me for all others. I doubted I’d ever get another sip of her goddess blood now that that Killian asshole had claimed her as his eternal mate. Their bond was complete, unbreakable, written in magic older than kingdoms.
What shitty luck I had! I blamed myself. If only I’d recognized that little Bob was actually Barbie when she lived under my roof. If only I’d courted her with all my riches and charm, she might have been mine, and then when she finally met the chaos asshole, it’d be too late for him.
I sighed. Barbie was no longer on the table. I had to live with that. But Sy, that delicious wild thing who shared Barbie’s body, remained available. Rowan insisted that she was his, which was bullshit. Silas and I both contested his claim.
My fangs ached at the thought of tasting Sy’s blood. Would it be like nectar, like Barbie’s? Sy might not be a goddess, but she was pure magic, and that worked for me.
“You look terrible,” my father announced, still staring at his papers as if they held the secrets of the realm.
I nearly snorted. He wouldn’t recognize the realm’s secrets if they slapped him in the face. I dragged my mind back from the girls; it was time to deal with my father. My task was to extract the intel from him so I could rejoin the other heirs and plan how to get them back.
“How touching, Father. Your concern moves me.”
His eyes snapped to mine, a flicker of red in their depths. “Your sarcasm bores me, Louis. As does your failure.”
I kept my expression neutral. “Which failure specifically? You’ll need to narrow it down.”
The temperature plummeted. The obsidian walls seemed to darken, a visible testament to his displeasure. “The girl. The one with the unusual blood. You had her in your house, and you let her slip away.”
“She wasn’t mine to keep,” I said drily. “And it wasn’t my fault. She lived in my house disguised as a boy and drove everyone half-mad!”
I’d regretted my mistakes endlessly, and I didn’t need the king rubbing salt in the wound.
“Everything is ours to keep if we’re strong enough to take it.” He rose from the throne, descending the dais. “Instead, you’ve spent years drowning yourself in blood orgies and gambling, avoiding your responsibilities to the kingdom, tome!”
“Ah yes, my duty to find a fated mate and produce the prophesied One with her.” I let my fangs extend just enough to make a point. “Strange how everyone conveniently forgets that fated mates can’t be forced or stolen. They either happen or they don’t.”
“As if you know better,” he sneered, circling me slowly, each step a calculated reminder of who held the power here. This was getting old. “I had to step in to accelerate the process and make it happen!”
My nostrils flared, anger searing me. “That’s why you voted for the second trial to start without informing the heirs,” I accused, shooting to my feet. “We might carry the title of heirs, but to you, we’re nothing more than pawns.”
He slammed a hand against the side table. “You should be grateful you’re still useful enough to be a pawn!”
We glared at each other, the air thick with resentment. My fangs ached to sink into his throat, but I knew I couldn’t take down the most ancient vampire, my sire. And no matter how displeased he was with me, he wouldn’t dispose of his only pure-blooded, natural-born heir in centuries. We were at an impasse.
“Where are the bride candidates now?” I demanded. “At least tell me that! That fucking vortex didn’t leave a trail.”
A cruel smile twisted his lips, the kind that would make lesser vampires flee. I held my ground, meeting his gaze without flinching.
“You won’t be able to track it,” he said. “The candidates were taken to the Underworld to prove their worth. Queen Lilith graciously offered her domain as neutral ground.”
Lilith’s territory, where she controlled every shadow, every flame, every breath of sulfurous air. And to my knowledge, only Killian could enter the dark realm without an invitation from the queen herself.
