Lothaire (Immortals After Dark #12)(126)

“What?” N?x cried, looking genuinely upset. “I didn’t see that!”

“I-I beheaded him.” Blood bubbled up from her stomach as nausea washed over her, but she choked it back down.

Someone along the wall murmured, “A vampiress beheaded the Enemy of Old? I can’t decide if I should gut her or get her autograph.”

Ellie whirled around with a hiss.

Cara told Nix, “He’s not dead. His Bride left a sliver of tendon. Not a complete decapitation. He’ll rise again.”

Hope leapt in Ellie’s heart. “He’ll . . . he’ll live?” Again her new claws dug into her palms.

“Come closer, Elizabeth, and let me see for certain,” N?x said. When Ellie eagerly did, the soothsayer seemed to peer inside her mind. After what felt like hours, N?x pronounced, “Lothaire is very much alive.”

“You swear?”

“Often. Though not as much as foul-mouthed Regin. I try not to in front of Bertil.” She petted the bat.

“I meant—will Lothaire live?”

“He will.”

For some reason, she trusted this crazy Valkyrie. If N?x said he would live, then Ellie would believe. She sagged with relief.

Cara snatched her up. “And once he heals, he will come looking for you. Until that time, you’ll be kept here,” Cara said. “There’s no escaping Val Hall. If you try to trace from here, the wraiths will prevent you—violently.”

Ellie was hardly listening. I didn’t kill him, her mind chanted, I didn’t kill him.

N?x added, “You’ll be a political prisoner of sorts.”

He’s coming for me. Never would Ellie have expected to be so excited over the prospect.

Then she frowned. Would Lothaire come for her? Would he forgive her? At one point in their fight, he’d looked homicidal. And that had been before she’d nearly decapitated him. Of course he would know that was an accident.

She was his vampire Bride; he’d have to come for her. Reassured, Ellie finally gazed around at the room.

Though she was beyond relieved that Lothaire would live, she couldn’t feel happiness.

Imprisoned yet again?





52


As if from a great distance, Lothaire heard beings murmuring in . . . Dacian?

Where am I? He’d sleep-traced again? Why can’t I open my eyes? Every muscle in his body tensed, his first frantic thought for Elizabeth.

—“He’s maddened enough,” a deep voice said. “But his mate as well?”

—“At least the curse will be ended,” a female said.

—“True, Mina, but isn’t Lothaire merely a new curse?” a male said dryly. “Perhaps we should have left him in York.”

—“Shall I say I told you so sooner, or simply more often?” another male said in a slurring tone. “And it’s New York. Evidently, there’s a difference between the two.”

Blyad’! They were Daci. They’d captured him. Where is Elizabeth?

Then memories of her swept over him. The last thing he recalled was her screaming, her eyes black with rage as she’d wielded a sword. She’d swung at him.

Then the bite of the blade. She . . . she nearly cut off my head?

Gods, she’d lied to him, feigned love for him, and tried to kill him! He’d wondered how many times he could have a sword at his neck before one struck true.

He’d never thought he’d have to worry about his own Bride dealing the blow.

Again, I am betrayed.

With difficulty, he eased his hand to his throat, felt a bandage. Why would the Daci bandage him?

“He’s waking at last.”

When Lothaire managed to lift his lids, he found himself in bed in some palatial room.

The scent of fresh blood carried on the air. Light streamed in through the open window and fanned over his arms, but he didn’t burn. Blurred figures stood by his bed.

He tried to rise. Couldn’t.

As his vision adjusted, he saw three tall, dark-haired males, all similar in looks, and a short, fair-haired female. Each dressed in old-fashioned clothing.

Another massive vampire sat at the desk, boots propped up on it. He was drinking from a flagon—what smelled like alcohol-infused blood. His appearance was more modern than the others’, his eyes a glacial blue. As mine used to be.

The Dacian from the Bloodroot Forest! “Where am I?” Lothaire grated, his throat burning as if he’d swallowed a poker.

“Castle Dacia,” the seated one said. “I’m Prince Stelian. Standing are the Princes Trehan, Viktor, and Mirceo, as well as Mirceo’s sister, the lovely Princess Kosmina.”

She nervously gave a formal curtsy.

“A female vampire?” Lothaire hadn’t seen a full-blooded one in centuries.

“Ours have been safe from the plague here.”

Lothaire narrowed his gaze at Stelian. “You were at Helvita that morning.”

“That is correct. We were endeavoring to save our queen from Tymur’s men. Since you had—what’s the modern term?—dropped the ball.”

“Queen?” Dizziness rushed over Lothaire.

“Welcome to your kingdom, my liege. You are our ruler now. Newly restored.” He raised the flagon in a mock toast.