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As he took her lips, she surrendered to his magic. She’d once hoped for molten gold with this man, but she now knew the hottest fires between them would never cool. Those flames thrummed and glowed, their bond alive with heat. They enjoyed nothing less . . .

. . . than heaven.

Fifty-Eight

Dacia

“My queen continues to make a compelling case for me to help you,” Lothaire told Kristoff as they sat on the villa balcony once more. The table that Nïx had destroyed had been replaced in the ensuing months. Chessboards, a pitcher of bloodmead, and chalices awaited their play. “Mina’s heartfelt pleas for Furie did have some effect on me as well. Perhaps you will win tonight.”

Though Kristoff churned with excitement, he forced himself to say casually, “Then let’s begin.” He opened with his white knight.

“You wouldn’t believe where I’ve just been. We have a new visitor to the kingdom. You’ll meet him soon.”

When an enraged roar sounded from the dungeon, Kristoff observed, “An involuntary visitor.”

How many lives Lothaire toyed with! He moved a pawn. Fitting.

Any sympathy Kristoff had mustered in Nightside for his half brother had been crushed under the combined weights ofimpatience and resentment. “My old dungeon cell?” he asked, voice scathing.

“No. We needed one with a bit more . . . unique security.” He grinned as if at an inside joke, so Kristoff resolvednotto ask him about it.

Instead they traded several moves, settling into their strategies.

Lothaire observed, “The taste of victory teases you. You must already be picturing your future. Yet your imaginings aren’t in the realm of reality.”

“Yes, yes. I’ve heard all this before. Furie is a crazed she-devil everyone should fear.”

Lothaire sipped his bloodmead. “Here’s something you might not be aware of. Rumor holds that she knew she would fail when she set off to assassinate Demestriu. Surely Nïx would have warned her. But Furie’s rancor toward vampires drove her to hunt him regardless—because she would do anything for even a chance to kill a Horde king.” With an attempt at an innocent expression, he said, “Isn’t that the position you are currently applying for?”

Kristoff ignored that. “How did she go from assassin to captive?”

“Demestriu happened. She got the better of him and slew him, but he rose as if from the dead.”

“How is that possible?”

“Our uncle was old whenIwas young. Very old immortals develop interesting powers; basically they’re the pesky exceptions to all those fallible rules.”

Kristoff narrowed his gaze. “You admired him.”

“We had a complicated relationship. He ended up being more like Stefanovich than even I had anticipated. In a word: diabolical.”

“I discovered that when I exerted against him.” Seventy years ago, Kristoff had tried to take Helvita, but his Forbearer army had paid dearly, their numbers decimated.

“To be fair, you did better than most believed you could. No one predicted you would have the courage to take on Goliath.” Again Lothaire gave him that measuring look. “And five years ago, you seized a Horde castle. Perhaps you’re not utterly beneath my notice.” He poured more bloodmead.

Kristoff didn’t drink his own, wanting to stay sharp. Victory might or might not be here for the taking, but information certainly was. He starved for what Lothaire had in excess.

They exchanged a few moves; then Kristoff nonchalantly said, “Demestriu was known for his tortures.” Wanting to distract Lothaire, he asked, “What did you do to earn a burial in the Bloodroot Forest?”A burial that still torments you.

Lothaire’s eyes went hazy. “Nothing. I did absolutely nothing to him. But he wanted my vow to serve his interests forever, which I would never normally give. When he dug me out of the ground after centuries and threatened to plant me once more, I did anything he asked.”

“A vow took you off the board? Then he did to you what you’re proposing for me.”

“Yes.” Lothaire sipped his chalice. “Now that he’s been assassinated, only you stand in my way.”

“Not Cousin Emmaline?” Against all odds, their faint-hearted vampire/Valkyrie cousin had slain her own father, Demestriu.

“I’m not worried about Emmaline. She doesn’t want the crown, not like you and I do. I wonder if there’s a lesson to be learned from her?” Lothaire grew quiet in thought.