What must it be like to be her, serving people who might order your vein as easily as a pot of tea? Do the immortal Islorians drink or eat as we do? How often do they sink their fangs into necks? I’ve been so isolated up until now, I haven’t had the opportunity to notice anything off about them. That must have been Zander’s goal all along.
Do these creatures exist in my world? They must. How else would vampire fables exist? Except they’re not like the nightmarish tales of my world. They don’t hide in the shadow of night and sleep in coffins and attack unsuspecting humans, stealing their mortality. They stroll down sunny paths and sleep in beds and toss gold coins to the poor.
A slight scuff against stone is the only warning I have that I’m no longer alone on my terrace. A fresh wave of tension slides along my spine as Zander leans against the railing beside me, his hands casually folded.
I pull my robe tighter around my chest. If Corrin returns while he’s here, she’s going to scold me for being indecent. I don’t see why decorum matters. I’m surrounded by people who drink blood.
“He is something to behold, is he not?” Zander says softly, as if afraid his voice will carry and disturb the captain. “He practices like this every morning. Always has, for as long as I can remember.”
I can’t help but stare. It’s as if last night’s horror never happened. Zander’s handsome face is serene, his shoulders relaxed. Is his oddly light and cheerful mood because he feels sated by that woman’s blood? Or is it about what they did after he left me alone in my room, terrified? I’d be an idiot to believe he didn’t get his pleasure from her. Zander may be a king, but he’s a male who brought a willing female to his bed, and I saw how she responded to him.
But to let me find out this monstrous secret the way he did, and then stroll out here this morning as if all is well in the world … my anger flares at his callousness, and it helps drown out my fear of him.
“You don’t have to guard your tongue, Romeria. As I’ve already told you, I would rather have your candor than your false fealty.” There’s amusement in his tone. “Speak freely. It’s just us here.”
“Is it, though?” I make a point of shifting my gaze toward his terrace.
“I assume you’re referring to my guest last night? The one you saw while skulking outside my bedchamber?”
“I was not skulking.” My cheeks redden. “And bringing a woman to your bed the night you announce we’re together was not a wise move.” Regardless of his sinister reasons. “I thought you were smarter than that.”
Zander’s eyebrows arch.
Maybe I should guard my tongue a touch, but now that he’s committed himself to this scheme, I feel less risk of punishment with speaking my mind. If he wanted me dead, he could have killed me a thousand times over. “I hope you were at least discreet about your needs.”
“I’m always discreet,” he counters smoothly.
“Is it normal that the king would openly screw other women when his future queen is in the room beside him, or is that only our arrangement?” How often will he be bringing women to his room?
“Screw?”
“Bed. Hump. Fuck.”
His eyes flash. That, he understands. “Not as normal as it would be for the queen to join him.”
My mouth gapes.
“Should I expect this foul mood in the mornings going forward?”
“I don’t know. Do you have any more life-altering surprises to share with me?”
He mock frowns. “Not that I can foresee.”
I shake my head. He’s far too glib about it, especially for a man who last night used his disturbing nature as a warning against developing feelings for him. As if I ever would.
He sighs heavily, and when he speaks again, there is a hint more somberness in his voice. “Honestly, I don’t know what would be normal, given a Ybarisan and Islorian have not married for two thousand years, and your needs are not the same as mine. The need for mortal blood, I mean.” He surveys where my hand grips the front of my robe. “The other one is quite universal.”
I tighten my hold, swallowing against the unwelcome physical reaction the attention stirs.
Something flashes in his eyes. “The tributary left immediately after, so those needs were not met, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t,” I snap.
The corners of his mouth twitch. “At least you are not so terrified of me today.”
I set my chin. “It was … shocking, is all.” But I’ve learned to bury my fear to survive. “Tributary? What is that?”
“A human servant who makes themselves available to us specifically for feeding.”
And fucking, apparently, if he’s in the mood. How do those deadly looking incisors slide out? I never felt so much as a hint of them when we kissed that night.
“You cannot see them unless I make a point of showing them to you.”
I realize I’m staring at Zander’s mouth, searching for evidence. I refocus on my mug of tea. But his words are not lost on me—he intentionally revealed them last night. He wanted me to know the truth about him.
I hesitate. “Are you a daaknar?”
“They are repulsive beasts with decaying flesh and tattered wings. Is that what you think of me now?” he says, a sharp edge in his tone.
I shake my head. Opposite of that, despite the fangs, which were not nearly as long or horrid as that of the demon’s. It’s obvious I’ve hit a nerve. “There is one rather glaring similarity.”
“Daaknars are said to come from Azo’dem, where evil resides. It has been suggested they once walked the living realm but upon death were morphed by sin and cruelty and turned into creatures like the one you saw.”
Azo’dem is their version of hell, I’m certain now, so the daaknar are demons. I remember the way it lingered over me, stroking the strands of hair away. It seemed oddly human—or elven—in that moment.
“How did it start?” What made them drink human blood? Wendeline made it sound like the Islorian immortals weren’t always this way.
“The priestess will explain all of that to you. I have neither the time nor the inclination for that history lesson.” Zander watches Boaz collect his sword and jacket and quietly leave the court. No one is out, except for a few guards. “I find myself oddly relieved that you now know about our nature. Though I cannot explain why I would care,” he mutters, more to himself. “But will you be able to put this revelation past you and play your part when the time comes?”
“Do I have any other choice?” I must, if I want to buy myself enough freedom to find the nymphaeum and get out of this place. “Yes, but can you at least warn me next time, so I don’t stumble on that again?”
He dips his head in agreement. “I won’t need it again for some time.”
“Can you live without it?” Is what I witnessed happening in Zander’s room more about pleasure or need?
Zander remains quiet for a long moment. I have so many questions, but he is not eager to fill in the blanks. “Not indefinitely,” he finally admits. “The longer we go without mortal blood, the weaker we get.” He pauses. “What were you doing on my terrace in the middle of the night, anyway? In your nightgown, no less. Did you have a need you wanted me to help with?”