Page 6 of Henrikk’s Masquerade

“How—?”

“Before we discuss details, you must first agree to leave.”

“Leave Wintermaw?” Asher frowned, trying to imagine it. What kind of life would await him, forever on the run from Henrikk’s troops? Because Henrikk would hunt him, just like he had men searching far and wide for Barbara.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow, looking almost offended as he stared at Asher haughtily, each word spoken slowly with great scepticism. “Don’t tell me you wish to stay.”

At that moment, the crowd parted, and in the distance, Asher spotted Henrikk entering the dance floor. The king looked elegant in a red and purple floor-length coat that was gleaming with metallic thread, and dark tailored pants with sleek shoes that showed off his long legs.

Henrikk hadn’t spotted them and was soon partially blocked from view by the aristocrats crowding around him. Despite his controversial practises, the king was as popular as ever with the nobility, even if they did fear him.

“I can get you out of the castle to a safe place,” Nathaniel continued.

“I can’t allow you to risk yourself, Your Highness. You were nearly caught the first time,” Asher replied, unable to take his eyes off Henrikk.

Nathaniel waved his hand dismissively. “Hardly. A guard spotted someone with blond hair. That could have been anyone.”

It was true that blond hair was common amongst vampires, although few had hair as white-blond as that of Henrikk, Nathaniel, and Asher.

However, not anyone could have helped Barbara escape past the guards. Only someone with authority and resources to tamper with the roster and patrol routes could have managed it.

Had Asher not confessed to the crime, Henrikk would have almost certainly realised that it was his son. It was a closer call than either of them dared to voice out loud.

Nathaniel’s voice encroached on his thoughts. “You took the fall for me. Therefore, I owe you, General Asher.”

General.

Whilst Henrikk had used the title mockingly, Nathaniel said it with pride, as if he still considered Asher to be worthy of the respect the title commanded.

“Please,” Nathaniel added. It was a rare word from the prince’s lips, and it sounded odd. “Let me help you.”

“I need to stay and see this through,” Asher affirmed, still staring at Henrikk.

“Are you certain about that?” Nathaniel asked. “I’m giving you a chance to start a new life, put all of this behind you.” Asher didn’t answer, and Nathaniel stepped closer into his space, his voice low and carrying a note of uncertainty. “I know what he does to you, Asher. I’ve heard…stories.”

Asher felt his body seize up, his skin prickling with an icy chill as he stood rooted to the spot. The sight of Henrikk suddenly made him feel exposed and vulnerable, and he had the strong urge to move further behind the pillar out of sight. But he was paralysed—unable to move, or think, or breathe. He certainly couldn’t bring himself to look at Nathaniel, not when his father had been responsible for imprisoning and tormenting him.

“You should leave,” Nathaniel whispered, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

“I can’t leave him,” Asher responded, his words sounding hollow now that he spoke them out loud.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Nathaniel turn his head to follow his gaze. Henrikk said something, and everyone around him laughed.

Asher knew without hearing the conversation that they were not laughing out of fear. Henrikk had a keen sense of humour, and there was a time when he’d entertained their company of soldiers; it had lightened their steps on the arduous treks over mountains; it warmed them faster than the campfires could as they burst into laughter; his jokes had even lifted Asher’s dampened spirits one dark night as he and Henrikk huddled close in the hollow of a tree, trying to survive a thunderstorm that left them cold and drenched.

A sad smile graced Asher’s face.

“He’s not that person anymore,” Nathaniel said, as if reading his mind. “He’s changed.”

“People don’t change that much,” Asher murmured. Not this quickly. “He’s still your father.”

“I’m going to have to disagree with you there,” Nathaniel said.

Asher nodded and didn’t argue. His heart broke for the prince, who had lost his mother during childbirth, and was rapidly losing his father now.

The silence stretched, and Asher watched with a pang of jealousy as Henrikk led a vampiress in a turquoise ball gown to the dance floor.

“Will you do it?” Nathaniel asked brusquely. “Kill him?”