Page 10 of Henrikk’s Masquerade

What is she doing here?

His sister.

His estranged sister, whom he hadn’t seen in years. Hadn’t responded to her letters. Whom he loved but no longer got along with.

But his sister, nonetheless. Even if they didn’t get along.

Oh, how he despised her loud, hypocritical opinions, which she insisted on voicing at every party she and their father hosted at their manor. It went beyond sibling rivalry: Asher and Melody agreed on nothing that was important and disagreed on all that was moral and ethical.

He’d never met a more self-entitled person in his life than his own sister.

Henrikk’s new laws no doubt suited Melody very well.

What she referred to as their household servants, Asher argued were actually slaves: humans, wolves, and other creatures forced to do their bidding. And what she referred to as respectable remuneration of house and board, he called out as imprisonment. Their so-called ‘servants’ were prohibited from seeking alternate employment, or from getting married and having children, and a great many other things. Which Melody countered by outlining the many ways the servants benefited from the arrangement and that the cost of their freedom was, on the balance, a small price to pay.

Such arguments were just the tip of the iceberg; Melody’s ability to justify her excessive lifestyle was a skill she wielded like a double-edged sword.

None of that mattered to Asher at that moment. Because blood was thicker than water, and every instinct in him screamed to go to her, to protect her, to take her some place far away from Henrikk’s clutches.

And how? How had Henrikk gotten to Melody?

Asher had not seen her in years, and her name had not left his lips for the same amount of time. As far as he was aware, Henrikk had only met her briefly a long time ago, back when they were both soldiers.

Asher was confident that Melody had not been to the Capital before—her disdain for wolves had kept her away from wolf-occupied territories. She’d certainly never set foot in Wintermaw Keep.

So how the fuck was she engaged to the Vampire King?

Asher finally managed to push through the crowd. His gaze darted around frantically, searching for Henrikk, his hand beneath his cape and ready to draw his sword.

But Henrikk and Melody were gone.

He stared panting at the spot where they’d been standing, before whirling around.

Where did they go?

He leapt onto the raised base of a pillar, ignoring the reactions of the nobles standing nearby as he scanned the busy hall. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of blond hair at the far end of the room: the back of Henrikk’s head, his tall height making him easier to spot.

Asher leapt down and pursued them. He caught one last glimpse of Henrikk leading Melody away by the hand before they disappeared through a door.

Cursing under his breath, Asher quickly weaved through the crowd until he reached the door. It was barred by guards to prevent entry. When they caught sight of him, however, they stepped aside to allow him through, pushing the door open for him. Beyond, a darkened hallway beckoned.

It was a trap.

In his heart of hearts, he knew it was a trap, one that Henrikk had set for him.

But the king had his sister. Melody was beautiful and intelligent, but pampered and ambitious, and selfish enough that she could be easily manipulated by someone like Henrikk.

Asher’s plan to remain hidden until he could get to the king had fallen into shambles. Because Henrikk was luring him out using the only other person in the world he remotely cared about.

Hatred flared hot inside him. He despised Henrikk for this. Absolutely loathed him for using Melody this way. For using the knowledge Asher had told him in confidence years ago about his family troubles to toy with him. For finding the aching wound he kept hidden and pressing on it.

Resolve solidified in Asher’s mind as he squared his shoulders and faced the door.

There was no more room for fear, doubt, or panic.

There was no room for love.

There was only the role that Henrikk was forcing him to play, and the weapons on his person—which an hour ago he’d thought of as superfluous—had just become essential.