Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(91)

She seemed startled by this.

“Did Morgana not propose the same to you?”

“Well, yes. But I could never make another Sorceri feel this way.”

“In any case, my offer stands.”

She seemed to muse over his words, then said, “You know so much about me. Won’t you tell me something about your life?”

“What do you want to know?”

“What’s Dacia like?”

“Strategically and mystically hidden. Very well defended.”

“Um, can you describe what it looks like for me?”

Her question made his lips curl. My artist halfling needs details. “Before you, I noted sights only for tactical advantages. But again, I will try,” he said, casting his mind back to the view from his balcony. “There’s a constant mist. It wisps along the cobblestone streets. Vast caverns soar above all. Fountains run with blood. The buildings are ancient, carved from the very mountain. Our black stone castle lies empty in the center of Dacia, like a bloodless heart.” A constant reminder of their failure to install a regent. Though not for much longer.

“Caverns? Does it smell like a cave?”

“No, it smells of cold and blood, which is pleasing to one like me.”

“It must be dark.”

“In the highest peak, there’s an opening capped with a gigantic crystal. It allows in filtered sunlight.”

“I can hardly imagine that.”

“I wish I could have shown you.” Talking of his kingdom only brought to mind how much he missed it. The frothing fountains, the mist, the majestic black keep.

How would Bettina have viewed Dacia? How many details would she have seen that had escaped his notice? They’d never know.

“What was your house like?”

“I lived in the royal library, among all the books.”

“You resided in a . . . library?”

“There were suites inside and great balconies that overlooked the city, but yes. I was most content among those shelves, so one night, I simply never left.” What would she think his dwelling choice said about him?

She seemed to be giving the matter serious consideration. Then she asked, “Do you have family there?”

“No siblings or parents. But many cousins.”

“Are you close to them?”

How to answer that?

“It’s not a difficult question.”

“I haven’t talked about myself in centuries. Every detail about me has been private—or already known among kinsmen. I’m not what you’d call a . . . a . . .” What was the modern term?

“A sharer?”

“Precisely. But I will try for you.”

She muttered, “To win it.”

“What was that?” When she shrugged, he said, “Very well,” and began describing his family. He recounted the blood vendettas and discord. The constant assassination attempts and battles.

He told her about siblings Kosmina and Mirceo, about hotheaded Viktor always spoiling for a fight. He briefly mentioned the hulking drunkard who was his cousin Stelian. He told her of Lothaire, their unbalanced potential king, and his human Bride—an impoverished mountain girl.

And of the other royal cousin so few knew about? That tale was better left for another night.

“It sounds like you hate your cousins.”

“I don’t, not really,” Trehan said with a weary sigh. “We’ve actually become cordial to a point. I’m just sworn to kill them, as they are me.”

“That’s really sad. Do you have no one you can trust?”

“I can trust one of them, and maybe another—but only in certain matters. My house wars with theirs constantly. I know nothing else.”

“What do you mean by house?”

“There are several arms of the Daciano family, each with its own house. Viktor is all that remains of The House of War, Stelian of the House of Paladin. Kosmina and Mirceo are the last of the House of Castellan.”

“And you, Prince of Shadow, must have represented the House of Shadow.”

“Exactly.” Except it’s no more. “Each house serves a purpose. Viktor is general of the army, the wrath of the kingdom. Stelian is the gatekeeper, deciding who enters our land. He’s the guardian of the kingdom. Kosmina and Mirceo guard the castle. They’re called the heart of the kingdom.”

“What were you called?”

“I was the sword of the kingdom.”

“The sword, but never the king? You said you were a contender?”

“Eventually duty would have compelled me to take the throne, but I never aspired to rule. I didn’t believe I was particularly suited for it.”

“And now?”

“Now I believe I could be a good king—if I have a clever queen by my side.” He pulled her tighter against him.

“Do you think this Lothaire will do well by Dacia?”

Trehan hiked his shoulders. “The throne is his. His house ruled since the beginning of the Dacians. The head of the kingdom.” Ironically, they’d been known for their dispassionate wisdom.

Lothaire—the red-eyed madman, raised among the fanatical Horde—wise?

“Vampire, you didn’t answer the question.”

“There are some admirable traits about him. If he and his Bride could ever settle down . . . if he can make Elizabeth immortal . . .” Trehan and his cousins had watched Lothaire calling in favors from his legendary debtors’ book, traveling all over the world. “He searches relentlessly for the means to transform her into a vampire.”