The endless midnight cycle in this world is unique. But no amount of time away from it would keep me from recognizing the patterns.
“Marius?” I don’t yell my friend’s name, just utter it loud enough for him to hear, as I assume he’s nearby. He’s the one who portaled me here using that handheld device. He must be close. And I suspect I’m going to need that little prized token of his.
“He’s still in the other world,” Fjord tells me, his silver hair glinting from the moonstream overhead. “He mentioned needing to tie up loose ends.”
“Yes, your candidate’s home realm doesn’t know about supernaturals. Thus, all ties to her existence must be erased. Marius offered to handle the issue.” Barnes, a well-respected advisor among the Strigoi, arches an auburn brow at me, daring me to question his wisdom.
He’s ancient.
Over five thousand years old.
And he’s best friends with my grandfather. Who flanks him on the left, his dark eyes—the same shade as my own—issuing a similar challenge.
But I don’t give a fuck aboutloose ends. I wanted Marius’s portal device.
He was the one who told me I couldhelpmy intended, essentially pointing out that there isn’t a rule against it. I’m not sure if he meant the suggestion or if he was trying to distract me into traveling here as soon as possible.
Knowing Marius, his comment was layered with both intentions.
Fuck.
I rub a hand over my face as I listen to Viviana consider the path ahead of her. When she starts thinking about a lightshe’s running toward, I frown and look at the holographic screen again.
There’s a building in the distance, one that I can barely make out from the camera they have on my mate. A camera she doesn’t appear to be aware of. Our technology is more advanced here. The source of the feed is likely some sort of invisible bug flying alongside her.
Whatever it is doesn’t matter.
The structure, however, is important.
Because I recognize it.
It’s not a building but a cabin. One I haven’t visited in over a thousand years.
My lips part. “No.” I look at my grandfather, ignoring the others. “No.”
He simply stares back at me. “This is her third trial. If she passes, she will have a break afterward. You’re welcome to tend to her then.”
“Third trial?” I ask, confused. “What was her second?”
“Your arrival,” he states calmly. “Now, I suggest we retreat to the sitting room in the palace. This trial won’t be as easy.”
He utters the words without emotion. Without care. Without even an ounce of consideration of the danger they just thrust my intended into.
“Viviana Dalca isn’t just a candidate. She’s my chosen mate,” I say, every word clear and concise. “I respect that the Strigoi need to ensure her worth, but this…” I point at the screen. “Thisis suicide.”
“Or perhaps it’s exactly what we all need,” my grandfather replies. “Regardless, I suggest you come with us. If she passes, we’ll teleport her here. If she fails, you’ll be welcome to retrieve the remains.”
My beast roars inside, my fingers curling into fists. “You talk as though she’s a pawn in a game.”
“Because she is, Ciprian,” he answers quietly, stepping into my space. “She’s a pawn that may become our queen. But you need to play by the rules and let her lead.”
“You’ve given her no time to prepare. No time to understand. No time?—”
“We’ve waited a millennium for her,” he interjects. “And you’ve had over three years to ready her for these trials. If that wasn’t long enough, then neither of you is worthy of your roles in this world.”
“Neither of us?” I repeat.
“Be the king you’re meant to be,” he says, acting as though I didn’t speak. “Join us and observe your chosen queen. Or take the next two days trying to fly to her. Your choice.”
