I lift my chin. “Nothing I’ve done to protect the Night Kingdom brings me shame.”
Del settles back in his chair. “Really? Because I went to visit an old friend in the Southern Continent, and he wasn’t there. Seems Prince Fash never came home from his travels over a century ago. And I wondered why that would be, because he was always intentional and cautious.”
Oh my gods.
I swallow and leash my guilt into a neutral expression. Iamashamed of my actions with Fash.
A century ago, when I was desperate to understand the enemies on the borders of the Night Kingdom, I invited a neighboring ruler to visit. I had heard Prince Fash was a decent man, and he was—one of the only ruling vampires I’ve met who could possibly claim this. He would have been an ally for us. But to my shame, I panicked when he playfully grazed hishand along my bare shoulder and a bond began to form. The onslaught of attraction, the thread that seemed to be stitching us together, soul melding with soul, terrified me, both with sharing my rule and my life. I was not ready for a bond, nor did I want to open myself to brutal, heart-wrenching pain if it were ever lost.
So I slashed his throat with the daggers always strapped to my thighs and took off his head.
For years, I looked over my shoulder, waiting for the fallout of killing Prince Fash, but no one ever came with questions or accusations. And while my guilt still prods at me after all this time, Fash’s death was worth something. Because my strategy was born that day. He showed me a way to eliminate powerful enemies discreetly. And a part of me hopes, if he knew what his life had bought,maybehe would forgive me.
But then the vampiric presence took advantage of Prince Fash’s disappearance, and bloodlust became rampant in the Southern Continent. I’ve been trying to recover the territory ever since, and my mistakes haunt me. The continued loss of life is on my shoulders, and I doubt Fash would forgive me for that.
Del peers at me like he can see right through my façade, but I force myself to pin a prideful look on my face.
In the wake of my silence, Del clears his throat. “Given how the Night Kingdom seemed to quietly expand its territory since Fash’s disappearance, I traveled east, into the deep mountains of the Old Tritan Territory, and the prince who ran them for the last five hundred years was missing there, too.”
“Seems you gave yourself quite the tour,” I bite out.
“I did,” he says, crossing his arms, the lapels of his jacket pulling taut over his broad chest.
“I was lucky to spread the reach of my rule without bloodshed over the last century. Well, other than the first seven wars I won near the beginning,” I add, closing the slit of my dressing gown.
Del’s gaze tracks my hand and then finds my eyes, expression amused and challenging. “Of course. What well-timed, intelligent, ruthlessluckyou’ve had.”
I don’t dignify his words with a reaction. “Is there anything else you think you know about me?”
“Just one other thing,” Del says, flashing a winning smile that turns his sharp features into refined handsomeness. My insides twirl, captivated by his face and the memory of his hips against me in the west wing.
Godsdamnit.
“And what is that?” I sigh, trying to release the coiling tension and not let attraction distract me.
“You havethreestrongholds. Not two.”
My hissing snarl rages out of me before I can tamp it, and the gorgeous vampire in front of me morphs into my enemy in a moment.
Del tenses, raising a hand. “I swear I would die before revealing it to anyone. It’s your best-held weapon.”
“You just signed your own death sentence, Del. I can’t let the knowledge you have continue to exist, especially in Goreon territory.”
The male gets on his knees, and I watch his muscular thighs flex as he sinks back on his heels before me. “You must trust me,” he says. “I live my life in service to saving Goreon, I swear it. We want thesame thing.” His voice reaches in and grabs me, the way it did the very first time he spoke, and I know he’s being honest.
“Not good enough,” I snarl.
His eyes are a plea before he speaks again. “My name was Patrick,” he says softly.
My eyes go wide in shock. “Whywould you tell me that?” I demand.
It’s the most intimate thing he could have shared. Weneverreveal our human name. Our name is theonething that still truly belongs to us from our humanity, and we don’t share that, hardly ever, except with maybe a mate.
The firelight dances across his somber face. “Because, somehow, I need to convince you to trust me. And I’ll lay my entire self bare before you, if that’s what it takes. You’re the opportunity I’ve been waiting for, and I won’t let you slip through my fucking fingers, Veya.”
He drops my royal title, desperation and honesty pushing out pretense, and I allow it for what he’s given me to cling to, his name still ringing in my mind.
Patrick.
