Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(92)

“A female?” Bettina asked. “I’ve never seen one.”

“In Dacia we have as many females as males. The plague that wiped out their number among the Horde has never entered our kingdom.”

“How can he turn her?”

“We believe he searches for a talisman. A mystical ring that could grant his greatest wish.”

She rose on her elbow to study his expression. “Did you ever see yourself with a vampire for a Bride?”

He eased over onto his side to face her. “Before my father died, he told me not to count on having a Bride—though if it was meant to be, I’d receive a daughter of Dacia to be mistress of my house.”

“Oh.” Her eyes glittered. With . . . jealousy? “But now you can never go back.”

“Do you think I would? Even if I could?” He brushed a lock from her forehead, unable to stop touching her. “I left for you—and I would make the same choice a thousand times over.”

She seemed to weigh this over in her head. What I wouldn’t give to know your thoughts right now.

“You sound tired,” she finally said. “Maybe you should return to your tent and rest.”

Even after this night’s victory with her, exhaustion weighed on him. He hadn’t slept a day through in weeks, and he hadn’t been drinking enough to sustain himself.

“I can sleep once this tournament—and your affections—are won. I feel I’m close on both scores.”

She stiffened. “Close to winning means close to killing Cas. Your speaking of your family only reminds me how close I am with him. He was there for me when my father died. He took care of me after the attack.”

“That eats at me.”

“Why?”

“It should have been me! You’re confusing loyalty with romantic attachment—and friendship for love. You haven’t experienced love to know the difference.”

“I know I love Cas.”

“Then you’re confusing two types of love. Over the centuries, I’ve witnessed it in all its incarnations.”

“Is one more important than the other?”

“They’re different.”

“Answer me, vampire,” she persisted. “Is one more important than the other?”

“In our case, yes.”

“Then say I could fall in love with you. And say I do only love Caspion as a friend. What happens to him? If you survive against Goürlav, you’re going to kill Cas.”

“I’m trapped in the tournament as much as you are, Bettina.”

“Who’s your most treasured friend? What if I had no choice but to murder him? How could we come back from that?”

“We’d find a way—because I’d know you had no choice. In time, you will forgive my actions.”

“Maybe I could forgive you, but I’d always be thinking about it,” she said. “It was because of me that Cas went to Dacia.”

“What do you mean?”

“When Raum ordered him to stop searching for the Vrekeners, Cas disappeared. He couldn’t take the frustration any longer, was about to go crazy. He must have met a Dacian who invited him to your realm.”

Frustration wasn’t the only reason Caspion had ventured into Dacia. Mirceo could be quite seductive, promising pleasures of the flesh that would boggle the mind of a randy young demon.

“I’m confused about so many things,” Bettina said. “But one thing I know: I could never get past the fact that you’d killed Cas.”

Trehan had believed she could eventually, that she’d see he had no choice. Now he doubted.

“The fact remains that I might not win,” he said. “And if this is my last night on earth, I don’t want to discuss the future till dawn. Let’s not think of it.”

In a quieter tone, she asked, “What do you want to do?”

As the rain softly fell, he drew her back down against his side, heartened when she stretched her arm over his chest. “Nothing more than this, Bett.”





Trehan returned Bettina to her spire just before the sun rose, laying her in bed, pulling the cover over her.

They’d talked the rest of the night about their pasts, their hopes, and their fears, until reality intruded with the growing light.

“You look tired.” Her expression had grown pensive. “I wish I could do something to stop tonight’s fight.”

“We are all bound by the language in our contracts.”

“What are you going to do with Goürlav?”

“Win, I hope.”

“I’m serious. How do you kill a creature who mustn’t be harmed? What can I do to protect my people if you injure him?”

“I don’t plan to.”

“Pardon?”

“The tales of the primordials are true. When they’re wounded, their blood is catastrophic.”

“Tell me.”

“Legend holds that serpents, scorpions, and arachnids first spawned from other primordials, from drops of their blood—except that the original blood-born Child Terrors are as large as dragons,” he said. “The only strike I can make against Goürlav is a kill strike.”

She bit her lip, her face pale with worry. “Will you stay with me until the match?”