Page 24 of The Vampire Court

“Alaric, you killed one of my princes, the first in over a hundred years. You owe me.”

I grab her wrist and pry it off my arm then twist her around to face me. “Elizabeth, stop this at once. You may have turned me, but do not think I have forgotten the circumstances you forced me into.” I lower my face and speak low and calm. “I owe you nothing.” I release her and back up, putting much-needed space between us. “I will not touch you, and things will never be as they used to be. You need to understand that. Now if there is no business for us to discuss, then I must be going.”

I turn my back on her. Already I can feel the fiery rage of her anger searing against my back, but I calmly close the doors to her bedroom, separating us, and walk out of her room.

It’s not until I am down the stairs and down the hall that I can finally breathe a sigh of relief. That was too close. Elizabeth is becoming more demanding and aggressive.

I don’t know how much longer it will be before this becomes a battle between our demons. I must be gone before then, or I fear neither Cherno nor I will make it through.

Chapter Nine

Clara

The warm scentof cinnamon and butter pulls me from sleep. The mouthwatering spices mix with the light smell of fire burning in the hearth. My mouth waters before I peel open my eyes. I roll over and discover Alaric’s side of the bed empty. I splay my fingers over the sheets. They’re cool to the touch.

Disappointment sits bitter on my tongue. If I had any preconceived notions about what it would be like here, they have been doused by the second day after the masquerade. I have spent the majority of my time cooped up in this room, my thoughts alternating between three things: Alaric, my mother, and the demon deep underground layer.

As the moon rises high in the night sky, thoughts of the demon take over, drowning out even the constant loneliness that plagues me. In my dreams, no matter how they start, I always find my way back down there, seeking the demon out, talking to them, trying to free them. I shudder.

Shaking my head, I chase away the images of glowing red eyes and black smoke held captive by silver that shines even in the dark. I drag myself out of bed, slipping into my worn, fitted doeskin pants, a clean shirt, and my knee-high boots. Out of habit, I slide the night-forged dagger into the hidden sheath strapped to my left arm.

I don’t want to spend another day waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting for Alaric to return. I want to see more of this place, to step outside and be wrapped in the crisp, winter air.

Hoarfrost coats the edges of the windows, glittering against the bright, vibrant blue of the afternoon sky. Here on the side of the mountains, the days are even shorter than I’m used to, lasting only a handful of hours.

I take a seat at the small, round table in the adjoining room. There’s a tray of fruit and a steaming pot of floral tea. Most importantly, there is a plate stacked with sticky buns. I grab one and take a large bite. The warm bread is light and fluffy. I moan as the flavors hit my tongue—sugar, cinnamon, butter, and something else I can’t identify. They are far superior to the patisserie back in Littlemire. Still chewing, cheeks stuffed to capacity, I pour myself a cup of tea.

After three cups and four sticky buns, I lean back in my chair and pat my full belly. It’s tempting to finish the plate, but if I do, there is no way I’ll be able to get up from this spot.

I stand. The sweetness of the pastries buzzes through my veins. A walk will do me good.

Poking my head out into the hallway, I make sure no one else is around before closing the door behind me.

I haven’t seen Mother since the masquerade. It is both a relief and a disappointment. She hasn’t tried to find me since that night… if she’s even here anymore at all.

She left her entire family once without a word. It wouldn’t surprise me that she would leave again without attempting to say goodbye.

Squaring my shoulders, I push her from my thoughts. I don’t want to spend another moment thinking about the woman who probably never thought about me, Kitty, or Father since the day she was claimed.

I turn toward the stairs that will take me to the main halls. It’s not long before a group of vampires round a corner. Pressing my back to the wall, I lower my chin, watching them through my lashes. As long as I appear subservient, I’ll be safe, and the vampires leave me alone with little more than the occasional curious glance.

After wandering down a few more passages, the bite of the air calls to me. I rub my hand over a frosted pane of glass and look out. Below, in the courtyard, is a garden surrounded by maze-like stonewalls that appear to be seven- or eight-feet high. There is no one anywhere near the garden. It’s exactly what I was hoping to find: solitude and the cloudless sky.

I make my way down. Gravel crunches underfoot as I step outside. I shiver against the cold, but it feels good to breathe in the crisp, wintery air. I walk along the main path, not quite entering the maze.

So much has happened since we arrived, and most of it within the first three days. Alaric and I share a bed when we sleep, but somehow, there is still no time to talk. He or I are too tired or I want to enjoy what few moments of peace we have together.

There is never enough time.

A dry, gray stone fountain sits in the center of the open court. Vines twist and knot around the base and over the lip to partially fill the basin. Over the entrance to the maze is a latticework arch with flowers that seemed to have frozen overnight, their delicate petals bruising from the cold. I venture further in admiring the beauty of the late afternoon sun shining through the dying plants.

“Clara?”

I spin, stumbling back a step to catch my balance.

Alaric stands an arm’s length away. Consumed with my own thoughts as I wandered around the garden, I hadn’t heard him approach. Seeing his beautiful face takes my breath away. I’ve missed him, but it surprises me just how much.

“What are you doing out here alone, and without your cloak?” he asks. He closes the distance between us, moving like the predator he is. My pulse kicks up slightly, and I lick my dry lips.