Stark scoffs, crossing his arms. “So, suddenly you’re a believer?”
My mind is racing. Am I looking for connections where none exist? Or are we finally putting the pieces together?
“No. I don’t know. Whatever these gems are, they clearly hold a wealth of power. But whether that means that the Goddess was—is—real… who knows.For now, our main problem is finding this tower from my visions. We won’t find answers unless we can track it down somehow—and find out if there is a Tear inside.”
Stark crosses his thick arms across his chest and sighs deeply, his eyes rising to the ceiling.
“Yep,” I say. “You know who we have to ask.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing alone in front of Lucien’s chambers and trying to determine what words could possibly trick him into relative honesty. I push the doors open without knocking, and his guards don’t even try to stop me.
I wish they had.
The door swings open to reveal Lucien with an intoxicated, hungry look in his eyes and lips painted red with blood. He sits in a decadent dining room chair, but instead of a table in front of him, there’s a voluptuous, scantily clad woman sprawled across his lap.
One of his hands is wrapped around her midsection, keeping her from falling. Her head is thrown back, expression blissful, giving Lucien full access to feed from her throat.
Lucien looks up as the doors slam open. His eyes lock on me as he dips his head to sink his teeth back into her. The woman moans as he drinks deeply. My stomach tightens in an uncomfortable combination of disgust and fascination.
It’s easier to forget that I’m dealing with my enemy when I’mnotlooking at him devour his prey.
I ignore the sensation, stalking up to him, refusing to be intimidated.
“Lucien. We need to talk.”
Reluctantly, Lucien breaks away from his meal, and the woman’s eyes flutter as she comes back to herself, clearly dazed. With a twitch of his head, Lucien signals a servant, who trots over to take the woman’s hand and gently help her up and out of the room.
“Yes?” Lucien inquires, but his eyes are still glued on the woman’s generous backside as she slowly departs, the shimmery material of her dress concealing nothing.
I sigh. “Eyes over here, Lucien.”
He meets my gaze with an amused grin and a sweep of his tongue over his stained lips. “You know, it’s considered very rude in Astreona to interrupt someone’s meal. If you’re going to cut in, you could at least offer your own neck instead.”
“I’d rather eat glass,” I shoot back in annoyance. “We’ve stumbled onto something major about the Goddess Tears.”
He sighs and sits up like I’m boring him. “Somethingmajor,” he mocks with false excitement. “Let’s hear this revelation, then. Wow me.”
His ego hogs the entire room, but it slowly reduces in size the longer I speak. He even looks intrigued. Worryingly intrigued. The hunger in his eyes is sharper and more focused than what I saw with his fangs deep in that woman’s neck.
Killian’s poisonous words—about how powerful Lucien is and how he must be stopped, too—slither back into my brain. Am I putting trust in yet another beautiful royal who is bound to betray me?
“Well,” Lucien says, leaning back in his chair. He braces his thumb beneath the point of his chin and skates a finger along his jaw. “Consider me wowed.”
“Do you know anything about a mysterious tower near water?” I ask.
He tilts his head. “What will you give me?”
I roll my eyes.“Lucien.”
He chuckles and stands. “It’s mostly legend. There’s an island in the sea that may hold the tower your vision showed you, but we’ve never been able to get through to it. Bring Elias here,” he instructs a servant. “And tell him to bring the maps of the Bloodthorn Sea.”
“Bring the rest of my party as well,” I add.
In no time at all, we’re all gathered in Lucien’s chambers, a pile of maps spread over the large, polished wooden table before us. Lucien gives Noemi a wide berth. Elias’s earring glints in the light as he leans over the table. He’s carefully setting out document after document.
Saela is practically vibrating, eager to get her eyes on them. Stark, Venna, and Noemi are watching in steely silence. My father wasn’t invited to this gathering, at least.
“This is the one,” Lucien says, gently guiding Elias to the side with a hand on the man’s shoulder.
