A muscle flickered in Cassius’s jaw. “No, we aren’t the rulers. But the prince sends his orders, and we see that they are fulfilled. This is nothing we haven’t already dealt with.”
“But you shouldn’t have to deal with it.”
“What are you getting at, Thalia?” Cassius scanned her face.
“You are not the prince; you’re his hand. He should be the one here, giving orders directly—telling his advisers and his courts what to do. Instead, he’s doing what? Looking for a cure? But how? My mother sent out people on her behalf to try and find a solution to the ore—”
“The prince is not your mother,” Cassius snarled out, surprising Thalia with his vehemence. “And the prince likes to see things done by his hand.”
“So he can appear to be a savior after neglecting his realm?”
“If that is the case, it doesn’t matter. Nor does it concern you.”
“I think it should concern me, considering the man I am married to isn’t even around! Is our marriage even binding? Legal? Given the fact we haven’t consummated it?”
Cassius stilled, his gaze slowly lifting to hers. “Are you so eager to consummate this union?”
Thalia lifted her chin. “I thought Vampyrs cared about customs.”
Cassius’s lips twisted into a smile, although it didn’t reach his eyes. “We do. Which is why I am still your proxy.”
“Then, as a proxy, I am sure you’ll be more than willing to step aside once the prince returns.”
Cassius raised a brow. “I’ll be happy to offer my own room for you to consummate your marriage.”
Thalia bared her teeth in a resemblance of a smile. “How generous.”
Cassius tilted his head. “Anything else you wish to discuss?”
“Nope.”
“Good. I have business to attend to.” Cassius rose, aiming for the door. He paused, looking over his shoulder. “Oh, I’ll refrain from telling the prince that his wife threw herself at me while he was away. I’m sure that would be an embarrassment on your behalf.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Prick. Prick. Prick.
Thalia stewed in the bathtub, the bubbles long having disappeared. She wished she had something to strangle. Perhaps Cassius himself.
Thalia pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes, trying to stanch the growing ache behind them. Her shoulder twinged in pain. At least Lord Adrian was gone from court; at least she didn’t have to worry about him ripping her throat out … for now.
Things were getting worse. The bites were spreading, especially if those who’d been bitten were being protected by their loved ones. It would be so easy to write her mother. To tell her that the Vampyrs were on the cusp of collapse.
But Thalia knew her mother wouldn’t be pleased to sit back and wait for the inevitable. She’d want it to move faster. She’d want Thalia to move faster—to set things in motion so that their demise happened swiftly.
So why the hell wasn’t she acting?
She’d tried to write another letter, this one with more intel, hints that something was amiss in Vaccarium—that the Vampyrs were acting strangely, many having gotten ill with some mysterious disease. But she’d left it half written on her desk.
If only the damn prince would return so she could set things in motion. Yes. Yes that was the reason for her hesitation. Because if theprince were here, she could get the animosity between House Gallinus and House Lorenzia to boil over. When she was sure the courts would turn on each other. Then, once they were fighting among themselves and the fear of the creature took hold,thenshe would write to the queen and Agripa could sweep in for victory.
The thought set her stomach turning uncomfortably.
Thalia swallowed the burning in her throat. But none of it mattered, because she was effectively screwed. The courts had left, they didn’t trust her, and seducing the hand to the prince was going less well than expected.
Thalia’s lip curled as Cassius flashed in her mind. The heat in his eyes before he’d shut her down the night before.
Prick. Prick. Prick.
