The moon is almost full tonight, huge and bright in the winter sky, allowing me to see perfectly well. In the center of the garden is a frozen pond. Moonlight paints it white; so bright it almost glows. It’s surrounded by big, ancient pines, their boughs laden with snow. The trees are almost big and thick enough to erase the castle’s stark stone walls.
“This pond is ancient. It was here long before Edinvar was built. It’s fed by a deep underground spring—the same one that supplies the castle’s water. They built the castle around it. When it’s warm enough, it’s a nice place to take a dip.” Corvan beckons to me. He leads me across the snow-covered ground, through a gentle swirl of snowflakes, out onto the frozen surface of the pond.
A strange feeling comes over me. It’s as if the shackles of my past life have fallen away, and I hold something unfathomable—a kernel of possibility—in the palm of my hand.
“It’s beautiful, Corvan. There’s something different about this place. It feels peaceful here.”
“I had a feeling you’d recognize what I felt the first time I saw it. I consider this place to be the true heart of Tyron. At the bottom of the pond, there’s an ancient statue of the Goddess Hecoa—it’s probably a thousand or more years old. A lost relic from the Khaturian Tribes.”
“The barbarians used to occupy this land?”
“I wouldn’t call them barbarians. That implies they’re uncivilized, which couldn’t be further from the truth. For a very long time, all of this was their land, until my great-grandfather sent his armies to colonize the North, and they redrew Rahava’s borders and created the duchy of Tyron. My great-grandfather, Lyzar, understood that this land was defensible, because he led the campaign himself. But he knew that taking his armies any higher into the mountains would be treacherous. The Khaturians are magic-wielders and fierce fighters, and the slopes are near-unassailable. So he wisely drew the border at the edge of the Khatur, and left it at that. It was my father who got greedy. He wanted the riches that lie beyond the mountain ranges, so he sent a full legion of men up into the Khatur to subdue the tribes and take the lands above the clouds.”
Realization dawns on me. “The barbarians didn’t attack Rahava unprovoked. Emperor Valdon started the Northern War.”
“Contrary to the official reports, the entire thing was of my father’s making.”
“And you…”
“When it became clear that his forces were going to lose, he sent me here to clean up the entire bloody mess. We were victorious in the end, but we paid a heavy price. I do not intend to fight a war in these lands ever again.”
“Is that why you claimed Tyron? To keep this region under your control and out of reach of the Imperial Palace?”
Corvan reaches out, gently caressing the side of my face. Despite the biting cold, his fingers are warm. “Finley, I intend to expand Tyron and make it stronger; more prosperous… to the point where we’re untouchable. It’s the only way to stop the Imperial Palace from destroying what they don’t understand. The Khaturians won’t accept anyone as ruler but me.”
“Ruler? But I don’t understand. I thought the Khaturians were the enemy.”
“They were, but we have a treaty now. They worship strength, and they’ve recognized me as their Kral.”
His crimson eyes are filled with secrets and terrors. I berate myself for naively believing the rumors of the mad archduke. What I’ve discovered in Tyron is so very different. “What is a Kral, Corvan?”
He shrugs, his cold expression giving way to bemusement. “They think I’m some sort of god.”
“I don’t entirely blame them. Look at you.”
It’s true. In the silvery glow of the moon, he appears more inhumane than ever, like an exquisitely sculpted statue come to life.
His brows draw together in frustration. “I didn’t choose this.” His nostrils flare. His lower jaw trembles ever so slightly. “Finley, I never expected someone like you, but now that you’re here, I’ll do everything in my power to protect you. You will be my duchess. An archduchess of the empire is second in rank only to the Emperor himself.” His lips twist wryly. “Sounds like a terrible proposition, I know, but I’ll make sure you have all the preparation you need to equip you for what lies ahead.”
I’m just a lowly baron’s daughter, I want to say, but instead I give him a sharp nod of understanding. “I don’t want to be kept in the dark; placated with lavish gifts and jewels and vapid entertainment, given no other purpose than to be pampered and prepared for the task of bearing your heirs.”
And giving you pleasure.
My insides clench as I wonder what it would be like to have him in my bed; his naked body pressing against mine.
I always believed that when I married, sex would be a joyless task; a forced rutting for the sole purpose of getting me pregnant.
I thought my husband would be a humorless old bastard like my father.
Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined I’d end up with this man.
And he’s opened his entire world to me in such a short time.
He leans in. “I wouldn’t dare waste you on such an existence, Finley.”
He tucks his finger underneath my chin and tilts my head upwards until we lock eyes.
I lose myself in midnight and crimson.
Unbidden, my lips part in invitation. My thoughts turn dark and lustful. My body is on fire—yearning for his touch.
He kisses me. Softly; tenderly, taking his time, with such terrible sweetness.
I annihilate my own doubts and kiss him back. His lips yield. He tastes bittersweet and utterly addictive.
His fingers dance along the back of my neck, tracing up my nape, threading into the upswept strands of my hair.
He holds me there for a moment, his kisses growing deep and insistent.
And then he lets go.
I look up at him, stunned.
“You have no idea how utterly alluring you are, Finley. I…” He shakes his head.
For once, the charming, eloquent vampire prince is lost for words.
He takes my hand. “We’d better get out of here.” He quickly leads me across the frozen surface of the pond. At least he isn’t sweeping me up into his arms again. I don’t mind it all that much, but he can’t be carrying me everywhere.
I’m not a child.
As we reach solid ground, we turn and look back at the icy lake.
Crack.
In the centre, a dark fissure appears, spreading apart to reveal the inky waters below.
I raise an eyebrow. “Did your kiss do that, Corvan?”
He chuckles. “If there’s ever a metaphor for what you’ve done to me, that’s it. Maybe it’s a coincidence… maybe something else. Let’s go back to your chambers. You need to rest, because tomorrow we’re going on a journey.”
“A journey?” I’m still reeling from his kiss.
“Tomorrow we’ll go up into the mountains, to Niize, to pay the Khaturian elders a visit.”
“Why?”
“Because Khaturian lore is ancient and deep, and they might know something about a woman who can bend wood with her bare hands.” He smiles in the moonlight; enigmatic, radiant. “Don’t worry about a thing, Finley. You’ll be perfectly safe as long as you’re with me.”