Leaving Thea alone in my bed had been the worst, but I had woken up in the middle of the night, thinking of her coven and the heart. As much as I tried to stay in bed with her, to feel her smooth body against mine, run my hands over her silky back, press my nose to her shoulder and neck and let her sweet scent take over me, I felt restless.

The sooner I found out where the heart was, the better. I would retrieve it for her and help her escape. If we were caught, I would fight whoever came for her, while she used her powers to flee—alive and well.

I snuck down the hallways toward Lord Reynard’s office. I knew there were patrols instructed to stay close to the door at all times, but I had a plan for that.

Once I was within hearing range—vampire hearing range—but still far from Reynard’s office, I pinned a small stash of herbs to the inside of the thick curtains covering a window along a hallway, and with a match, lit them. The herbs released a foul smell, and the fire spread from the herbs to the curtain.

I hid in the shadows of another hallway and waited.

As I expected, the two patrols came to see what the commotion was.

“What a nasty smell!” one said.

“The curtain is on fire!” the other one said.

Like mice in a shoebox, they ran around themselves, trying to pull down the curtains and douse the fire. By the time they figured out what to do, the herbs would be burnt through, and they would investigate how the curtains caught on fire. They would probably wake up Sarki or Alex or Dorian.

In the meantime, I was hoping to have found something useful in Lord Reynard’s office.

Once inside, I locked the door and walked to his desk. I lit a small lamp, hoping the dim light wouldn’t shine under the door, and started my search.

I knew Reynard had a journal, a diary of sorts—all I had to do was find it. Since Reynard had no reason to believe his office would have been invaded and ransacked, and he certainly didn’t think he was going to be murdered the night of the ball, he had no reason to have hidden it, so I started with the obvious places.

His desk, the drawers, the shelves along the walls … then I switched to the less obvious places. In hidden compartments under the desk, or false panels behind the shelves, behind the many painting lining the walls. I even looked under the pool table around the corner.

Nothing.

I sat down on Reynard’s chair, leaned back, and racked my mind. Where the hell could his journal be?

I opened the drawer underneath his desk once more. I had already checked in here, but there was nothing more than reports and blank paper and pen in here. But, as I was closing the drawer once more, I realized something: The drawer wasn’t deep, and the desk was wide.

I crawled under the desk and sure enough, the panel under the drawer ran the entire width of the desk. I started patting the panel, searching for a lock or something. At the end of the panel, where it met with the wood creating the desk’s side panel, there was a lock. A silver circle with an indent of a X. I tilted my head, trying to look at it better. No, not a X. A cross.

I quickly took off my jacket and unpinned the brooch. I threw the jacket over the chair and stared at the cross. Could it be that simple? I guess Lord Reynard didn’t need to be too careful if he trusted all of his princes. None of us would ever try something like this while he was alive.

Carefully, I laid the cross flat against the lock.

And nothing happened.

I pressed on it, and nothing happened.

Then, I twisted it ninety degrees.

The popping sound of a lock opening echoed through the office, and one side of the panel swung down. I scooted back and pulled the panel back. And, attached to the top panel of the desk were at least half a dozen journals.

I picked the one I had seen Lord Reynard writing in recently—a thick book-like diary with a leather cover and yellowed pages.

My breathing shallow, I sat back on the chair and flipped through the pages of his journal. First, I searched for the battles against the witches about fifty earlier. As Thea had mentioned, Reynard had wanted to teach the witches a lesson and show them who was actually on top. He attacked the three covens, starting with the Silverblood and took the heart of the coven. When he went for the other two covens, most of the witches had run, taking the hearts with them. He vowed to come back and steal their hearts too, but he never did. Not that I knew of.

He mentioned bringing the heart to the castle, showing it off to all of us, then placing it inside a box and hiding it in a secure place. But there was no mention where.

I skimmed through more pages, stunned by how much he mentioned Sarki—and how unique she was, how powerful she could be, how essential she was to him.

My skin crawled.

I respected Sarki. She was even easy on the eyes, but I had never thought of her like that, and I had no idea why Reynard had fallen so hard for her.

I continued skimming the pages, going from year to year, reading more than I cared to know about the man who had raised me.

Until I stumbled through an interesting entry. A couple of years ago, we had problems with some fae. I remembered the battle that ensued, and when we had won, Reynard took a piece of their crystal tree from them, as a trophy. In this entry, he mentioned “placing the crystal with my other treasures.” I flipped through the journal, trying to read more about Reynard’s treasures.

I went back over two hundred years, to the beginning of this particular journal, and finally saw it: an entry about Reynard’s treasures and the place he kept them all—a hidden stairwell crossing underneath the dungeons that lead even farther down below the earth and opened up to a large room.

Hope filled my chest. Even though he hadn’t mentioned putting the heart of the Silverblood there once, it was the only place where it could be.

I heard the footsteps coming and put the journal inside the drawer, while pushing the panel underneath up with my knees and closing it once more. Knowing I had no chance of sneaking out without being seen now, I grabbed some of the papers on top of Reynard’s desks—reports about the several missions of the couple of weeks before his death, including my little trip to the werewolf packs up north—and pretended to be lost in them.

Prince Albert’s scent wafted from under the door before he opened it and walked in.

“I thought I would find you here,” he said, closing the door behind him.

My insides stilled. “Why do you say that?”

He raised one eyebrow at me. “Unless I’m mistaken, you set that curtain on fire to take the patrols away from here so you could sneak in without being seen.”

Hell … “Curtains on fire? What are you talking about?”

“Relax,” he said, approaching the desk. “I’m on your side, okay? Though, Alex tried buying me yesterday, and I confess the price he was willing to pay was interesting. But I’m not interested. Alex is a jerk and a bully, and he needs to be put down. I’m voting in your favor.”

I remembered the voting two days earlier. Prince Albert had voted for me. But it could all be a trap. Alex could have put him up to it, just so I would trust him, tell him about my plans as if I had many, and he would go running to Alex and spill the beans.

If Albert was on my side, I appreciated the vote of confidence, but I preferred being careful at the moment.

“Alex is trying to buy everyone,” I said, trying to sound unconcerned.

“He is, and I have to tell you, man, he’s promising the world to everyone. He might succeed.”

That wasn’t good news. “What about you?”

“I don’t care. He scares the hell out of me, especially now that he seems intent on taking you out, but I won’t let fear win.”

I sighed. “You figured out what I was doing. Do you think the others know?”

Albert shook his head. “Nah. I told them I saw a blood slave talking about creating a diversion so he could escape. Alex and Sarki went down to the slave quarters, and I’m guessing it was to interrogate them all.”

Hell, I didn’t want any blood slave in trouble because of me. “That’s good,” I lied, feeling sick to my stomach. Knowing Alex, when none of the slaves confessed, he would choose a random one to punish, to make an example out of him.

“Have you found what you were looking for?” Nolan asked. I didn’t answer. “Because the guards are probably still busy right now. We should leave before they return this way.”

I didn’t want to take the journal from where I had stashed it, not in front of Albert, so I agreed with him. Together, we walked out of Reynard’s office, careful not to make a sound. At the end of the first long hallway, Albert dipped his head at me, then turned to the right, while I turned to the left.

I slowed my steps, and when he turned another corner and disappeared from my sight, I halted. I waited for a minute, to make sure he wasn’t coming back and to make sure the patrols weren’t coming this way.

Luck wasn’t on my side as I sensed new patrols approaching. I had to take a detour and three hallways I didn’t really need to, to stay out of the path, then made my way back to Reynard’s office.

I needed that damn journal. I had to read it more closely and try to find more clues about that treasure room and where exactly it was located.

As I walked down a hallway, the scent of blood reached my nostrils and my muscles tensed.

Hell, this couldn’t be good.

I rushed my steps, following the blood. It got heavier and more distinct the closer I got to it.

No, no, no.

I turned the last corner before Reynard’s office doors and halted, my breath lodged in my throat.

Albert was pinned to a wall—a sword in each shoulder and a stake through his heart.