I did not ask, and he did not offer an explanation. Instead, he inclined his head. “We’ll meet again, Princess Isolde. I’ll make sure of it.”
His promise shivered through me like an oath he’d sworn to the goddesses themselves. I lifted my blade and charged, but as I swung, he vanished like mist in the morning sun.
Alone, I began to shake.
I’d survived an encounter with a vampire who had tasted my blood, and the worst part about it was that he’d been right.
I did like it.
Two
I had seen victims of vampires—humans who were on the cusp of change before their hearts were cut from their bodies and burned. I’d also seen bodies drained of blood, past the point of survival. But I’d never encountered an actual vampire.
“They look like us but are not us,” Killian’s father had warned during training. “They are fast. They will control your mind and drink your blood, and you will not survive. If you do, you will wish for death.”
Those were the truths I’d been told about vampires.
He’d never said how they were like us—that they could be beautiful, that their touch would inspire an acute desire beyond anything I’d ever experienced. Everything inside me was wound so tight, each breath was a reminder of how desperately I wanted to be touched.
“Isolde!”
But not by him.
Killian’s voice broke through the fog of my mind. He was close, and I did not want to be caught. There was too much to explain here in this clearing—the strzyga, my torn dress, the absence of blood.
I turned on my heels and fled.
The castle felt like it had doubled in distance. The walk was agonizing, and I grew frustrated, still feeling the effects of my encounter with the vampire. My body was warm, especially between my thighs, and I was hyperaware of how heavy and sensitive my breasts felt, rubbed raw by the woolen cloak I kept close. By the time I exited the tree line, I ached.
This was torture.
Was that what this was? Some cruel form of warfare?
I skirted the high, stone walls that rose ominously and cast me in a chill shadow. The walls were a complex system of forts, bastions, and towers that ran, uninterrupted, encircling High City of Lara and Castle Fiora. They’d been built over two hundred years ago, after the birth of the monsters in Cordova—the start of the Dark Era. There were four gates that allowed entrance into High City. Two were actually useful, one for trade that led into the heart of the city. The other was for diplomats and offered a pleasing route along cobble roads to the gleaming white towers of the castle.
The other two gates were symbolic. One was for Asha, goddess of life, the other for Dis, goddess of spirit. Once, they would have opened at dawn, marking the waking of the city, symbolizing the balance of life and death. But since the birth of the vampires, Dis’s gate remained sealed, a decision that had been made by the kings of the Nine Houses over one hundred and fifty years ago. There were a few priestesses of Dis who admonished the decision, claiming that the plague of the monsters would only grow worse—and they hadn’t been wrong. It was why all villages across the Nine Houses had high walls and gates that closed before sunset and did not open until sunrise.
Except for tonight.
Tonight, the gates would open to allow the Blood King and his people within our walls. It would be the first time since they were built that the gates would remain open.
I approached the one for diplomats. Usually, I liked to enter through the trade gate and meander through the streets, visiting my favorite vendors for flowers and meat pies, but since my encounter in the wood, I needed to change and time to myself.
“Princess,” one of the guards at the gate said. His name was Nicolae. He was young, his face doughy and pale. The other, who was silent and stoic, was named Lascar. He was olive skinned and large, his body almost too big for the sentry box behind him. Both soldiers were new to the Royal Guard. I liked the new recruits because they were easy to sway; all I had to do was smile, stroke their ego, and they’d pretend they never saw me slipping outside the gates at night.
That was before they’d all been roused in the middle of the night last week to find me, before the two guards who’d let me slip by were dishonorably discharged and relegated to the duties of a stable hand.
“Returning without escort, I see,” Nicolae said. He tried to sound stern, but he had too much light in his eyes for that.
“Commander Killian stayed at the border,” I said.
Nicolae’s eyes shifted over my shoulder, and he raised a dark brow. “Did he?”