“Take my blood; show everyone I’m yours.”
Even as furious as he was, his fangs pierced my skin gently, tenderly, spearing deep before his lips sealed over my skin and he swallowed, drinking deep, feasting, erasing any other mark that was not wrought in my flesh by the prince of the vampyrs. I was his.
My eyes closed heavily as I languished in the rapture of Varic taking my blood.
The shaking was really annoying, so I opened my eyes to see who I needed to tell to stop. I wasn’t surprised to find Tiago. He was, after all, one of the most annoying people I knew.
“Where’s Varic?” I asked, unable to stifle my yawn.
“You need to eat,” he said instead of answering. “I––”
“Tiago,” I said flatly, insistent. “Where is he?”
He took a breath. “He went to retrace your steps.”
It hit me hard, and I jolted with panic. “No,” I gasped, throwing off the covers, needing to try and stop him. “I didn’t want him down there. It’s so filthy, and he doesn’t––”
“Listen to me,” he said softly, his voice as I’d never heard it, comforting, like a caress. “Common sense tells us that even in a situation that exists with the thralls, that once your shirt was gone and everyone could see Varic’s seal, they needed to take a beat and think.”
“What’re you––”
“Here, sit up so you can eat,” he directed, covering my legs back up, leaning me forward to stuff pillows behind my back until he eased me to a comfortable vertical position.
“Tiago, we should––”
“The same applies to the men that stripped Nerilla,” he said calmly, taking a breath. “They saw the seal. Everyone knows what that is. There is no way to plead ignorance. The second it was revealed, there should have been a general outcry and guards summoned, and Nerilla should have been escorted out.”
It hit me then. “That’s what Jarah was thinking in the king’s grotto.”
Tiago nodded. “Yes. But it had already crossed Varic’s mind.”
I kept quiet, listening.
“The fact that did not happen, for either of you, means a choice was made, and the prince cannot allow that. Do you understand?”
“Not really.”
“Well, Varic went to the aula with Hadrian and his dreki and certainly, by now, has found everyone that you and Nerilla interacted with.”
“And by found, you mean killed.”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
“I’m not sure how to feel about that. Half of me thinks they didn’t know, it wasn’t their fault, and the other half thinks, yeah, they saw the seal, why not just let me walk by.”
“Exactly.”
“What’s going to happen to everyone else?”
“Well,” he began, leaning sideways and lifting a tray up from the floor. It was one of the fancy ones with the built-in legs and so sat over my lap without me having to balance it in my lap. “For centuries, Varic has been adamant that there should be no more thralls and that the aula should be flooded. A lot of money is spent keeping the area free of water, and now, you know yourself that the walls are covered in mold, and sea water seeps in continually.”
“How do you know? Have you been down there?”
“When I first entered the service of the prince, he showed me every square inch of the palace, from the aula to the roof gardens. I know every passage, every tunnel, every secret room, every nook and cranny.”
“And you’ve only been down there the once?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if it looked bad when you were first brought here, I can only imagine what you would think of it now.”
“Yes, well, so after Varic finds all those who touched you or Nerilla, I suspect he will clear the area and have the wall lowered that holds back however many tons of sea water. It will be flooded shortly, if not already.”
“Can he do that without the king’s permission?”
“Yes. The palace, the structure itself, lies under the purview of the prince. The subjects belong to the king.”
“I just don’t want him to get in trouble because of me.”
He shook his head. “Varic is the crown prince, he who will be king. There is very little that is outside his choice to do with as he sees fit.”
“Why didn’t you go with them?” I asked, staring at his face, trying to get a grasp of how he was dealing with everything.
“Because you need to eat,” he soothed me, hand on my shoulder, then in my hair, petting me. “It is important.”
“Since when,” I baited him.
“Jason.”
Even though I was starving, he was more important at the moment. So instead of taking a bite of the biggest, most amazing-looking roast beef sandwich I’d ever seen in my life, I waited for him, all my focus there. “What’s wrong? You look terrible.”
He took a breath. “It has come to my attention that perhaps you are unaware of the reason that I continually harp on you about your safety.”
“No,” I assured him, smiling. “I know.”
“You do?”
“It’s ’cause you love me, and you don’t want me to get in trouble.”
His scowl was instant. “I think love is a bit––”
I snorted and then took a breath. “Were you scared?”
It took him a moment to find his voice. “Yes,” he rasped, taking hold of my shoulder, then my bicep before straightening up.
“Well, don’t start being nice to me all the time. I might pass out from shock.”
“Ingrate,” he muttered under his breath.
“What was that?” I teased him.
“Eat your food,” he ordered with a growl.
Really, there was no way around it; as sandwiches went, the one in front of me was stunning. I whimpered as I picked up the first half.
He kept an eye on me, refilled my water glass, and had Dae-Jung, who it took me a couple minutes to realize was in the kitchen, bring me more potato chips. He also brought a bowl of fresh fruit, which he passed to Tiago to put on the tray.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice breaking.
“You are most welcome,” Dae-Jung said softly, looking at me like he wasn’t sure about me. “Would you like some orange juice?”
“That actually sounds great,” I said, smiling up at him. “And the short hair looks good on you. I bet it’s nice to have all the weight off.”
His glossy black hair now framed his face with wisps falling across his forehead, into his eyes. It was messy but artful, and terribly appealing. Before, with his long hair, he’d looked regal, perfect, and elegant. Now he looked like he should be in college. I would have to ask him if he wanted to go to school when we got back to New Orleans.
“I like it. Do you like it?” I asked him.
He looked startled and then glanced at Tiago, who rolled his eyes, and then back at me, looking a bit bewildered. “I—yes,” he said quickly, taking a breath, his face crumbling at the same time. “I feel so very light.”
Before I could say anything else, he whirled around and shot back to the kitchen. I looked back at Tiago.