Second climbs the tomb steps two at a time to hand me the letter.
“Charlotte and Emmanuel, stay. Everyone else, please leave us,” I say, and the throne room empties outside of my three most trusted counselors.
I run my fingers along the fine parchment before ripping open the gold-and-black seal and threading the letter out of its envelope. My eyes scan the scrawled cursive, and the giddiness of surprise curls in my chest.
I can’t believe it: It’s an invitation to his court.
I read the letter again and pause at the king’s requested arrival time, which is within the week.
Not a lot of time to prepare.
My gaze flicks to Second. “Nerian’s inviting us to his court for discussions.”
He rakes back his chestnut hair, anger palpable—or maybe it’s fear. “Discussions for what?”
“Our peaceful surrender.”
Second belts a laugh, thick lips stretching into a confident smile. “Not a chance.”
“Agreed.”
I stuff the letter back in the envelope. The terms of our surrender include a marriage proposal to Nerian. I’m fairly certain Second won’t agree to this visit if he knows what’s at stake in our negotiations. But I’m willing to risk just about anything to get close enough to kill this king—like disappointing Second by withholding some of this letter, or letting Nerian think he might have a chance with me.
“This is our way in,” I say, hope and eagerness twisting inside me at the opportunity I’ve wanted for so long. My fangs pop—I’m unable to suppress my joy—and my focus lands onEmmanuel and Charlotte. “How would you like to join me in Goreon as the queen’s attendants?”
They grin, and Charlotte offers a bow, long blonde curls dipping toward me. “I can’twaitto sink my fangs into some filth,” she says, eyes flashing red above her perfect pink cheeks sitting atop high cheekbones.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I assure her, lip lifting in anticipatory excitement.
Charlotte is everything you could want in a diabolically dedicated courtier who plays chess and wields knives with equal skill. And she has been many things to me over the years, but most of all, she is my friend. Decades ago, she waltzed into my castle anddemandedan audience with me. The human girl got on her knees, swore her fealty, and begged me to change her. I don’t wish this existence on anyone, but there was something about her power and poise in that commanding moment, standing in front of her queen and choosing the life she wanted for herself, that had me bending my own rules. I don’t like to turn others—I don’t want to live with the guilt of the decision they may someday regret. So, I rarely do it.
But I’ve never regretted turning Charlotte. And neither has she.
Second paces the dais.
“Something to add, Second?” I ask.
He stops mid-stride and turns to me, face stern. “I don’t fucking like it.” The vampire wears the agony of losing his humanity like a cloak, always shrouded in it, and his temper runs hot from the pain still itching at his skin. But it makes him focused, callous even, which produces an effective second to the crown. Although I still hate that he suffers as much as he does.
I’d take the burden of it from him if I could.
Second soothes the pain of his losses by protecting those who remain in his life. So a risky, borderline suicide mission toGoreon disguised as a cordial peace discussion has him seeing red.
“Of course you don’t like it,” I laugh, trying not to roll my eyes at the poor male.
“Don’tmake light of your safety,” he snarls back.
My lips press into a thin line, and I let his words wash over me. He’s one of only a few I would ever tolerate such a tone from.
“You’re right,” I say finally, nodding at him.
He scoffs. “Of course I’m right.”
“But we have to go,” I say, holding up the letter.
Second crosses his thick arms and tosses his head back to stare at the ceiling. “I know,” he says after a long moment and dips his chin to look right at me. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“We’ve been trying to orchestrate a way in for decades. This is our best shot.”
