Chapter Twenty-Four
The carriage rolled slower as they entered the winding streets of Izeling. Friedrich opened the curtain just enough to see how the largest city of the north was faring. Brennalyn still slept against his shoulder. It would be another half hour before they were through town and headed up the incline toward the palace.
Grant and Sylvia rode in a separate carriage behind them as most servants would. He’d noted Grant’s disdainful glare before they left. He needn’t say a word why. Grant deserved to get his wish to be changed into a vampire. And Friedrich would grant it when this damn war was over. But as it was now, he served as the perfect spy. Friedrich wouldn’t take the chance of drawing his uncle’s gaze to the man who resembled him so much—if one looked closely enough. After tonight, however, he could grant him his wish. For they’d all be on the run. And the crown would know Friedrich had become a traitor like Marius.
The city streets buzzed with nightlife. Block after block of taverns, gambling halls, and brothels lined the main thoroughfare. A party of King Dominik’s Legionnaires lounged at the doorway of a brothel where two bawdy women flaunted their wares. Friedrich knew it was the kind of cathouse where whores were paid extra for their blood in addition to their bed. There were plenty of those in Izeling. Even so, there weren’t enough whores in all the north to feed the army his uncle was amassing by abducting whole villages.
Once more, his thoughts turned to the whereabouts of the secret stronghold, Dragon’s Eye. He and Mikhail had visited their prisoner one last time before departure. The pathetic beast had never awakened from the crippling pain that sent him into unconsciousness, the lamb still untouched. His uncle’s elixir was powerfully effective. And apparently could be fatal when resisted.
“Where are we?” Brennalyn roused. His heart clenched.
This was all too dangerous. Too risky. But what choice did they have?
At least by now, the children should be safe in the arms of the Black Lily. His last communication from Marius two weeks prior indicated they’d soon be sending parties of trained revolutionaries back to the mainland. They’d need to assess where the crown was strongest and where they might still recruit more for the coming war.
For war was coming. No doubt.
“In Izeling, kitten,” he said as casually as he could, hiding the thread of fear winding in his breast. “We’ll be at the palace soon enough.”
Brenna sat up and edged toward the window to look out. He need not ask to know what she was thinking. She was from Korinth, but Korinth wasn’t a hedonistic pleasure city like Izeling. In the frozen north, the hot-blooded seeking to satisfy fleshly desires flocked to Izeling. And their king in his dark tower above them reveled in the excess of humans and vampires alike as they debauched themselves and each other beneath his approving eye.
Friedrich had hated this place from the first time his father sent him here to learn to be a man from his uncle’s tutelage since he’d spent too much time in the company of his mother. During the day, the city reeked of poverty from the overcrowded and stacked tenement buildings, beggars on every corner. During the night, the truly evil stepped out of their shadowed corners to play. Vampires weren’t the only monsters who dwelled in Izeling. Fiends of all manner of human form took shape and slithered through the teeming streets, seeking new victims.
He gave Brenna a reassuring squeeze. She swiveled her gaze from the window to him. “I’ve never been to Izeling.”
“And never will again after tonight.” He closed the curtain as a stumbling drunk meandered too close.
“How soon will we leave after the ball?”
“As soon as you get the information we need, we’ll make a quiet exit and leave at once.”
She stiffened, placing a hand on his chest as she stared up at him. “What if I don’t get the information? What if we don’t find someone who knows where Dragon’s Eye is? What if—”
He stopped her with a sudden kiss. At first it was meant only to arrest the fears tumbling from her mouth, but then he softened and she opened for him. Unable to resist, he licked inside, stroking his tongue along hers, tasting her sweet essence with slow comfort. His marking covered her unique scent, but it did nothing to mask the overpowering sweetness of her taste. He laid his palm on her neck, his fingers curling at her nape as he leisurely explored her warm mouth, savoring the divinity of this woman. His woman.
When he broke the kiss, she looked up at him with dazed eyes, the dark brown so soft he could drown there and die a happy man. He nuzzled his nose along the small bridge of hers.
“I’ll find the right target. You’ll get the information. Then we’ll go get your girl.”
Her eyes closed briefly as a soft exhalation of relief squeezed from her lungs. “You truly believe so?”
“I do.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You just remember your role. And all will be well.”
She pulled away and sat up straighter. “All right. Test me again.”
“Who are you, my lady?”
“Lady Brennalyn Silverton of Korinth.” She fingered the silver buttons of his vest. “Do you think it was too risky to use my real first name? What if someone who’s been to Terrington recognizes the name?”
“No one will suspect you’re the schoolteacher of Terrington, kitten. And if any nobles at the ball have been there or visited Winter Hill, then they’d only know of the schoolteacher, Miss Snow.”
“Right,” she said on a sad sort of smile.
She was thinking of her lowly station again, which he would have none of.
“No one will know that you are the schoolteacher who conquered the notorious rake, the charming but hard-hearted Duke of Winter Hill, and brought him to heel.”
She laughed, merriment twinkling in her soulful eyes.
He smiled and whispered more softly. “No one will know that she is more than the mistress in his bed. She is the mistress of his heart.”
Her laughter died and eyes rounded. “You must stop saying such things. Aren’t I supposed to be playing the part of your favorite concubine? Just a toy and a bauble you’re enamored with for the moment?”
His voice rumbled low and soft. “I can pretend as well as you, kitten.” She arched a teasing brow. But the honesty in his eyes couldn’t be ignored when he said, “I can pretend I am only bewitched by your blood and lusting for your flesh. I can pretend you have not reached into my chest with your lovely, porcelain hands and cradled my heart before pulling it from my ribs to keep for your own. I can pretend you have not looked on me with those eyes…” His hand drifted up to smooth away a wayward curl at her temple so that he could look upon the infinite depths unobstructed. “These eyes,” he continued in a desperate whisper, “that looked inside and captured my poor, lost soul, binding me to you so that I will follow you anywhere. Everywhere.” He brushed the pad of his thumb across her bow-shaped lips. “I can pretend like you.”
She wrapped one of those delicate hands around his wrist, her eyes glassy with emotion, before she pressed a kiss into his palm. “Friedrich.”
The carriage lurched faster. He kissed her hand then flicked the curtain aside just as they passed through the wrought-iron gates at the bottom of the trek to the tower. It was almost time to put on their show.
“Let’s practice once more,” he said.
“Go on.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Brennalyn,” he said, returning to his formal speech like any of the vampire aristocracy she would meet at the ball. “And who is your family?”
Straightening her posture, she continued in a more imperious tone, “My father, Robert Silverton, is the Baron of Dover. We live at Pennington House in Korinth.” Her brows drew together into a frown. “What if someone knows there is no Pennington House in Korinth?”
“They won’t,” he reassured her. “Trust me, the nobles my uncle surrounds himself with won’t have any associates in Korinth.”
“Why’s that?”
“He and his brother, King Stephanus, hate each other.”
“Why?”
“Because their egos are both too large to fit in the same room.”
She laughed, a wonderful sound to break the ominous weight pressing on his chest.
“I’ve only ever seen King Stephanus at the Harvest Parades that my father and I attended as a girl,” she added.
“And what did you think of my uncle?”
“He’s a pretty man. But didn’t seem all that imposing to me.”
“Compared to his parents and to Dominik, he isn’t. Stephanus just wants to be admired. He does insist on the laws being followed in his land, however.”
“Yes, I can attest to that,” she agreed. “He was a just ruler of Korinth. If a little distant.” Her brow scrunched together again. “What do you think will happen when war breaks out? Will he join the queen’s army? And King Dominik?”
Friedrich had been pondering this for a long time. As well as King Agnar in the west. Stephanus might not like his brother. But that didn’t mean he would be willing to go against his powerful parents, especially since he seemed to enjoy the lap of luxury they’d set him in. Stephanus simply wasn’t the warring type. He’d likely lock himself in his castle till the bloody thing was all over.
“It’s hard to say. Marius will reach out to his brothers when the time comes. If they refuse to stand by us, he’ll ask them to stand down and remain apart at the very least. He never was close to Stephanus, but he was to his brother Agnar, King of Pyros, who is nearest to him in age. Of all the queen’s sons, Agnar has remained apart from the imperial family most of all.”
“Why is that, do you think?”
“Truthfully? I believe he despises them. But he always had a soft heart for his baby brother, Marius.” He tilted his head down to capture her close. “There is hope yet, my love.”
She smiled. Her lashes dropped, and he noted the galloping pace of her heartbeat. It happened every time he used his new endearment for her. He wouldn’t demand that she return the sentiment and speak of love. Not yet. But after they’d recovered Helena and he had Brennalyn safely tucked away from harm, he planned to explain to her that she would become his wife at once.
Or beg her. Whatever it would take. For he couldn’t stand the thought of going one day without knowing she was truly his. There was the matter of going to Korinth and demanding the courts grant an annulment. He’d handle that after he’d gotten her consent. One thing he knew for certain; he’d never let this woman out of his arms. And he’d not let her think for a bloody second that she wasn’t worthy enough to become his duchess. For there was no woman in this wide world—high or low born—who could ever compare.
“Friedrich?”
“Hmm?”
“Who is Grant? For he’s not just your valet.”
He smiled. Always the observant one, his Brennalyn. “Grant is my half-brother. Son of my father’s favorite concubine.” She remained quiet against him. He went on. “When my mother killed our father and herself, his own mother took her life.”
“Oh, Friedrich. How terrible for you both.”
He gave her a comforting squeeze. “Yes. At the time, Grant was a rowdy adolescent. And an angry one. Ready to burn a hole in the world. I asked him to stay. Got him the education he deserved. He was quick with a blade. He trained with the Legionnaires appointed to Winter Hill. And later, he became my closest friend.”
She laughed into his jacket. “No wonder.”
“How’s that?”
“From conversations with him, I knew he was both devoted to you but also enjoyed your discomfort. Like at the ‘test’ in the parlor.”
“Oh, yes. Bastard that he is. He loves to see me thrown for a loop.”
“But he loves you.”
The two had never shared such words. But Brennalyn could so easily see the brotherly love between them. He pressed a kiss to her crown. “And I him.”
They remained in silence as the carriage rattled the rest of the way up to Izeling Tower. Friedrich pulled a pocket watch from his vest. They’d arrived with enough time to settle in their quarters, refresh themselves, and dress for the ball. Everything was going as planned.
Then why did he have this sinking sensation deep in his gut, a fledgling darkness that roiled and clawed the closer they came to their destination?
Voices of guards could be heard waving them on. Mikhail’s sonorous tenor spoke to someone in passing. Friedrich made out the word “stable,” but that was all. He’d brought only Mikhail, Dmitri, and two others of the Bloodguard to escort their carriages. But the others would be waiting in nearby Izeling, blending into the city until later tonight.
Friedrich was prepared to take flight with full armored guard as soon as Brennalyn had lured the whereabouts of Dragon’s Eye from one of the narcissistic vampire nobles attending the ball. He was more than assured they’d find one willing to spill their secrets to get a taste of his Brennalyn. He clenched his jaw. He’d never let one of them get that far, but the idea still churned acid in his stomach. He’d nearly lost his fucking mind while watching Dmitri and Mikhail test her for his scent.
The carriage drew to a jolting halt. The coachman swung the door open. Friedrich stepped out first, then guided Brennalyn down as they stood before the grand entrance.
“Lady Brennalyn. Welcome to Izeling Tower.”
She tipped her eyes upward, awe affixed on her lovely face.
“Oh, my.”