As I mulled over my predicament with Prince Cedrych, the voice of my old mentor, Master Kane, ghosted through my mind. The man had been a genius at his craft but a bit of an antisocial misanthrope and, looking back, a tad eccentric too. One of his tenets was that I was not to have friends or companions, nor anyone in my orbit who might consider themselves an equal.
“A sorcerer must be strong, untouchable, an island in a sea of inferiors. To commune with others is to cede your power.”
For a long time, I believed him and allowed myself to be isolated, thinking it could only enhance my sorcery. Then, when he and my parents passed, it became necessary to do so. The transition wasn’t as uncomfortable as it should have been. But the isolation wasn’t healthy for me in the long-run. Having Cedrych there in my fortress was like opening the shutters to let in the sunlight. Proverbial sunlight, of course, since my vampyric nature didn’t allow me to bask in sunshine.
In any case, the prince was someone I could talk to, someone to listen to my thoughts and ideas. He made me laugh and lightened my spirit, and not because I was paying him to entertain me, but because he enjoyed my company, or seemed toat least. I didn’t think he was acting. Not to mention the other urges he inspired.
Yes, it seemed I’d grown rather attached to the spoiled brat. I would not let him go. Not without a fight.
“He may try to leave,” I informed my commander as the sun began to set over the glittering waters of the Lunar Straits. I’d summoned Anika to my chambers so that I might keep a close watch on the prince’s door. I’d had dinner brought up and had entreated the prince yet again to let me in, but he’d clung to the excuse that he was ill.
“The prince? Leave? What have you done, Mercier?” Anika demanded, assuming straightaway that it wasmyfault.
“I gave him what he asked for, and it spooked him.” That was my summation at least, though it was hard to pinpoint exactly where things went awry.
Shaking her head, she said, “Nevermind, I don’t need any details.”
As much as I valued my privacy, Anika had seen my sex dungeon and various implements. As head of security, she had to be aware of all entry and egress points and conducted regular sweeps of the fortress.
“So, what’s the plan?” she asked.
“Let him escape.”
“Really? You’re just going to let him go without a fight?” Anika’s glower said it all. The prince had endeared himself to my household. He charmed special treats from the cooks, made conversation with the groundskeepers, and jested with the royal guard. He was only arrogant and entitled with other royals, it would seem, and he brought lightness and camaraderie to my once gloomy household.
“I didn’t say that,” I told her. “I simply want to see how far he’ll take it.”
“You’re going to give him the rope to hang himself?” she concluded, making me sound positively villainous.
“I’m hoping he’ll turn back of his own free will.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“I truly don’t know. I can’t exactly force him to stay. He’s not a prisoner.” And yet, if only I could compel him somehow. I’d miss greeting him in the mornings when his hair was still tousled and his eyes were bleary with sleep, in the evenings when the candlelight played across his drowsing face, our passionate discussions about everything from battle strategy to which type of honey was best for baking.
“Damn it all,” I swore. Even more frustrating was that he’d enjoyed our session earlier that day, so it was only his pride getting in the way. I should have gone slower with him, perhaps even made love to him first, but I hadn’t wanted to mislead him either.
“Have the guards take a break just after dusk,” I told Anika. “Then we’ll see what he does.”
“It might be more effective if you simply talked to him,” she said.
“I’ve tried, but he won’t allow it.” The curve of her eyebrows, all-knowing, only fueled my ire. “What is it, Anika?”
“You like him,” she said with a slow, imperious smile.
I sensed a trap. “He has his charms as you well know.”
“You’re angry because you can’t order him around like a servant or a courtier.”
“I still don’t see your point,” I insisted.
“You’re going to have to work for this one, Mercier. Maybe even invest more than just your time and your money.”
“Speak plainly, Anika,” I demanded, not appreciating her obliqueness.
“You may have to invest your heart.”
I blinked.My heart?That was a step too far. Investing my heart meant allowing for it to be trampled on or disregarded. To become attached to something only to have it ripped away from me so callously? No, thank you.
