Blood.
“Goodnight,Elizabeth.”
His serpentine smile was the last thing she saw before she fled the room. Somehow, she made it to the stairs with a false smile still plastered on her face.
As she climbed the stairs, her expression fell, and her knees almost buckled. All at once, several pieces of the evening came together. She put a hand against the wall, feeling sick and a little faint. A roaring filled her ears, and she tried not to vomit.
Elizabeth traipsed to her chamber and lay on her beautiful bed, wanting to weep.
Caspian had a goblet of blood every night.
How many mortals had met their end for him to sate his hunger? And if she displeased him, would she be next?
***
An hour later, she was filled with determination not to be caged in her bedroom all night. She snuck out of her chamber, closing the door as quietly as possible.
Elizabeth tiptoed down the hall and slipped into the library, determined to stand her ground in some small way. Even though no one was near, and no one cared, she needed to feel like she could live out her days as she pleased, or she was going to go insane.
Out of the corner of her eye, a wisp of darkness curled around the bookshelves, but when she looked properly, it was gone. She must be imagining things—a trick of the light. She glared at the bookshelves, daring them to try and scare her again. But nothing else out of the ordinary happened.
Elizabeth sat determinedly on a leather armchair by the window and curled up with a book. She turned the pages with vigor and glowered at the shelves from time to time. Over the next hour, she slowly relaxed and forgot what she had been so worried about.
She smiled contentedly and read the night away.
***
Caspian was returning from ensuring that Asmodeus’s punishment was going smoothly—it was—when his eyes caught something interesting in the window that overlooked the library.
The girl.
She had nodded off on the sofa, a book in her lap. Amused, he went to the library and stood over her, smirking. She was indeed fast asleep.
Up close, he could see she really was a beauty, surely the gem of her family. Beautiful, spoiled, and vapid. Truthfully, he thought of her as fairly uninteresting, and had he not had an ulterior motive concerning her family, he would have dismissed her entirely. She was so peaceful in her sleep—so pathetically mortal and breakable. He could snap her neck right now if he wanted to, before she even woke.
How did she nod off in his house of horrors? Didn’t she know Asmodeus was the kindest of the demons that frequented his home?
Pathetic, naive human.
He chuckled and bent over her. She didn’t even stir. He desired to wake her and taunt her, just to show how powerless she was. But not yet. He straightened and retreated out of the library, leaving the girl.
Soon.
Soon, he would make her body sing for him. He would make her beg him to take her. He would watch the highborn daughter worship his body and feel like a champion among men. The lowly peasant he had been so many years ago would finally have his validation.
Yes, the amulet he sought was one thing, but he was perfectly content to let it remain hidden for a few more hundred years.Thatobjective, the one he had told Asmodeus and Finnigan, had always been secondary to his conquests. His primary purpose with Elizabeth, as had been his goal with so many women before her, was to steal the jewel of the families who had ruined his life so long ago. The Ashcroft line would die with her.
And she would beg him to ruin her before it was done.
He dipped his chin, and smiled slowly.
Chapter 11
Riding Horses
The next day, Elizabeth tiptoed out of the castle before anyone could stop her. Her hair was braided, and her riding boots were on.
She slid the barn door open, cringing as the wood groaned, but needn’t have worried—there wasn’t anyone inside, not even the horsemaster was up yet.
