Page 35 of My Princeling Brat (Tales from the Tarot #2)

I bristled at the mere insinuation. The impropriety of him! The blood was from a willing donor who was handsomely compensated, a fact he knew well already.

“Now, now, don’t get angry,” he continued, “I only ask because of the garish bite mark you left on him. Surely, you’d meant for it to be seen?

The betrothal bite. It is good you are keeping up with our customs. Fae blood is such a rare delicacy, so light and sweet.

As refreshing as a crisp white wine. I seldom indulge in it, as I am partial to human blood myself.

It’s the meat and potatoes of vampyre cuisine, wouldn’t you say? ”

“I do not require blood for sustenance, Sinclair,” I reminded him, something he also knew.

“Ah, yes, that’s right, which means you drank from the fae prince purely for pleasure. Color me jealous, dear cousin, to have such a delicacy at your disposal.”

I rose from the table and stalked to the window, needing to redirect this conversation, and fast, for my blood pressure was steadily rising. My cousin was simply baiting me to reveal myself, a game of his that I knew all too well. And I was losing.

Out the window, I spied Cedrych in the courtyard sparring with Erlander. The prince’s form and discipline had developed greatly in his time here. More grounded and patient, willing to wait out his opponent and wear them down until the right moment to strike.

The prince made me stronger and more vulnerable at the same time. Fear was at the heart of this. Fear that I couldn’t protect him. Fear that I might lose him. I must put aside my fear and confront Sinclair with courage and honesty instead.

“Dear cousin,” I began, turning to address him with open arms. “You know how deeply my parents’ death affected me, as well as the death of my beloved mentor, and you’ve taunted me with evidence you may or may not have related to their murders while continuing to withhold this information, which to me, feels cruel.

You do not wish to be cruel to me, do you, Sinclair? ”

The corner of Sinclair’s mouth turned upward, just a bit, for this is what he wanted all along, for me to spar with him, to match his wit. “I do not wish to be cruel,” he conceded at last.

I returned to my seat and laid my hands on the table. “Then let us discuss the matter candidly.”

“Sir Grantham,” Sinclair said and the man turned on his heel and exited the room only to return a few moments later carrying a rather large trunk, ornately decorated with vampyric motifs.

“This chest belongs to my mother,” Sinclair said, “and I can assure you, it wasn’t easy to get her to part with it. ”

I nodded. “I appreciate the effort.”

“Inside that trunk is evidence as to who killed your parents. But I cannot hand it over for nothing, as I’ve had to go to great lengths to procure it. Surely a man of your prowess understands that, Lord Vasil.”

When my cousin used my formal title, it was always with an edge of derision. I’d become accustomed to it, though on this occasion, I found it particularly grating.

“Then what do you want?” I said, wishing to be as direct as possible with my obfuscating relative.

“Sir Grantham, could you give us a few moments of privacy?” Sinclair said.

“Aye m’lord. I’ll be just outside.”

“Don’t stray too far,” Sinclair warned.

“Never, m’lord,” Grantham assured him.

Sinclair turned his satisfied smirk back to me. “Such loyalty is hard to come by, isn’t it, cousin?”

“Surely,” I said. Sir Grantham had kept my cousin alive for the past decade, despite his troublesome mouth and his dangerous scheming, not an easy feat.

“Well then, my proposition is this. How about you marry me and we unite our lands? All of elvish and vampyre territories under one command,” Sinclair said.

The shock on my face was surely hard to mask–for all of his and his mother’s clandestine plotting, this avenue had never been on the table.

“Come now, Mercier, put your face in order. We’re both adults here.

I’m not inviting you to fuck me, though I daresay it sounds like a scandal worth making.

Merely a political match to extend our reach and be a more formidable force against the other realms who may wish to conquer us, namely the fae. ”

I took a deep breath and exhaled, devising up my counterpoint because one had to handle Sinclair’s ego with sensitivity.

“I think we would not be a suitable match, cousin, even on paper,” I said at last.

“You like them big and beefy, I get it. Bet he cries beautifully too,” Sinclair said with a despondent sigh, which made me wonder at my cousin’s own proclivities. “Do you believe this will secure you a closer alliance with the fae queen?”

“That was not my intention,” I told him, perhaps revealing more than I should.

“Then you must have a real affinity for him. Well, congratulations, cousin. I’ve often thought about you living like a recluse in this dreary castle, wondering when some dashing knight might come along and liberate you from your celibacy.”

Sinclair surely wished for me to deny it, so I ignored him completely. “Is there something else I can offer you, in lieu of marriage?”

“I wish for you to support my ascension to the throne.”

“You have that already,” I assured him, for I’d never intended to interfere with Kazimir Clan business.

“It may require a show of power,” Sinclair said meaningfully.

“Troops?” I asked.

“Precisely.”

Trouble at home, I presumed. Lady Catrin had never been stable, but I figured she would support her only son’s ascension. She’d been grooming him for the position since he was a babe.

“So long as there is not an uprising on the horizon, I can lend you some of my forces during the transition period. Do you think your mother will oppose you?” I asked.

“She is mad,” Sinclair said with a weary sigh. “Her whims change as easily as the weather. I wouldn’t put it past her to cause some commotion, and there are several of our clan who are loyal to her and might oppose me even without her direction.”

I was grateful that the threats I encountered did not come from within my own fortress. I pitied Sinclair that he did not have a safe space, however dreary it may be. “Very well, consider it done.”

“There is one other thing I want,” he said, “though it is rather small. I daresay, inconsequential.”

“I doubt that any of your demands are inconsequential, Sinclair.”

He grinned, showing off his pointed canines, which for a full-blooded vampyre, were always engaged. “I fear Sir Grantham is a spy,” he said with a maudlin sigh.

Not the direction I thought our conversation would take. “A spy? Are you sure?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Do not mock me, Mercier,” he snapped, showing his first true glimpse of fury. “He is your spy and I know it because I’ve caught him at it.”

I swallowed. I needed to be careful here, for Sir Grantham’s sake especially. “I wouldn’t go making such grave accusations without proof.”

“Then deny it,” Sinclair said, crossing his arms like the petulant child I’d known from our youth.

“Sir Grantham is not presently my spy,” I told him, the truth.

“But he was?” Sinclair said, eyeing me closely. I couldn’t deny it; my integrity wouldn’t allow it. My extended silence was his answer. “That’s what I thought,” he said peevishly.

“Have you confronted him about this?” I asked, fearing for the man’s safety. My cousin had a terrible temper, especially when he thought he’d been betrayed.

“I have not. So, my demand for you, Mercier, is that I want him. As my captive. You will not come for him nor inquire about him nor speak his name aloud to me ever again. He is mine to do with whatever I wish.”

That gave me pause. I didn’t want to sign Sir Grantham’s life over to Sinclair, a vampyre famous for his bloodlust. At the same time, I didn’t wish to start a war with my cousin. Yet, Sir Grantham knew the risks when he entered into our contract.

“Will you kill him?” I asked.

“Not right away,” Sinclair said with a sinister smile. “Though if it soothes your conscience, I could have done this without your permission, as Sir Grantham is my own guard of honor and subject to my discipline, so I am really only informing you of my intent as a courtesy. Understand?”

Perhaps I could get a warning to Sir Grantham ahead of whatever reprisal Sinclair had in store.

I’d pay for his passage to the fae realm and sponsor his citizenship there.

The plan was taking shape when Sinclair said, “I see where your mind is going, Mercier, and I would caution you that any interference on your part would make me very displeased. So displeased that I might choose to retaliate. Your betrothed makes for an easy mark.”

I stood from the table, hands trembling. “Are you threatening me, Sinclair?”

“No, I am only laying out the consequences of your actions, should you choose to break the terms of our agreement.”

“I’ve not agreed to anything.”

“Haven’t you, though?” Sinclair smiled and stood from the table, his business having concluded.

“In that trunk is the dress your mother wore on the night your parents and the elemental sorcerer were murdered. On the dress you’ll find evidence of the person responsible.

Do you wish for me to take it with me or leave it with you? ”

My conscience warred with my compulsion to know the truth, to unmask the criminal once and for all and bring them to justice. After a woefully short internal battle, I said. “Leave it.”

Sinclair nodded. “Sir Grantham,” he called out and the man appeared only moments later.

If he’d overheard our conversation, the human showed no sign of it.

“One more thing, dear cousin,” Sinclair said while donning his snow white riding cape.

“Having a betrothed whom you are clearly enamored with, gives your enemies leverage. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. ”

Then, with a careless toss of his hair, Sinclair turned and departed, his guard of honor following dutifully behind, ever faithful at his right hand.

I waited until the door had shut behind them and I was alone again.

I studied the elegantly carved trunk at length, then finally went over and lifted its latch.

Throwing back the lid, I gazed upon a dress that I recognized.

Heartbreak made my limbs grow heavy and my movements slow, lost in a haze of memories.

My mother, the scent of lavender from her garden, her coppery brown eyes gazing down at me with pride and love, the softness of her arms as she embraced me.

My love for you is like the moon, Mercier.

Always there, always with you. Even when we’re not together, I’m watching over you and loving you from afar.

I picked up the luxurious pale violet dress, embroidered and embellished by a loving hand, for even our servants adored her. I saw the red wine stain, so much like blood, on the bodice of her dress. I held the fabric close to my nose and inhaled.

Aside from her perfume and the smell of aged fabric, there was a scent that was sharper, more vibrant too, that of the wine she’d spilled.

I couldn’t detect any poison, but the notes from the grapes were apparent, a rare and coveted variety, grown only in the fae realm and more specifically, in the gardens of the royal family, wine that could only come as a treasured gift from the fae queen herself.

Wine that my parents had been drinking from matching goblets when the poison entered their otherwise healthy bodies and killed them within just a few moments.

At that moment Cedrych barged into the parlor, red-faced and sweating from his sparring session, an absolute picture of youthful exuberance.

“My lord, what is it?” he asked, noticing that I had gone deathly quiet, still clutching the garment to my chest.

“I believe it was your mother who poisoned my parents.”