The Stolen Princess: Royal Blood, #4

By Kristen Gupton

Over twenty years have passed since Athan Vercilla stole Princess Kayla Sipesh from Tordania against her will. However, he didn't own his most prized possession forever. Kayla escaped, finding a new life with the Nahli, far from Athan's reach.

After Athan learns she's living in the Northern Wastes a decade later, her adopted people are in danger, and she's forced to travel back to where it all began. While she's never met her brother, she must seek King Keiran Sipesh's help in planning a future war to end Lord Vercilla's tyranny once and for all.

Despite all the time that has passed, Athan's obsession with Kayla hasn't faded. He discovers she's come out of hiding when his favorite son goes missing. Getting her back under his control is his greatest desire, all of his other plans suddenly insignificant. He'll reclaim her at any cost, even if he has to kill Keiran to get him out of the way first.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristen Gupton
• Release date: Mar 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781536576832

Book preview

Chapter

1

TEN YEARS EARLIER

KAYLA’S EYES BURNED as she stared, unblinking, at the man sleeping beside her. How would he react to having a blade driven into his heart? His death meant her liberation, and he’d earned his punishment.

All she had to do was kill him.

The guard slept on his back, her clothes wadded up and shoved beneath his head as a pillow. He’d done so to ensure she didn’t leave their bear-pelt bed for the night. He, however, remained clothed, even replacing his sword belt after their earlier activities when he’d ordered her to strip. Between them, attached to that belt, rested the one thing she needed to end his miserable life.

Perhaps she would’ve let him live another day, but allowing him to dictate their movements any further only put her at further risk. They’d not traveled far enough from Lord Athan Vercilla’s castle before the guard had decided to camp. She’d protested, but he’d been lackadaisical about it. Athan wasn’t in Talaus, after all. He’d gone to Tordania. To the guard, everyone’s constant terror regarding the vampire was paranoia. He wasn’t afraid.

His real motivation for stopping so early, however, revealed itself as soon as the horses were unsaddled. He’d demanded she fulfill her part of the deal. He’d gotten her out of the castle, and he expected her to begin immediately repaying him for it. As much as it nauseated her, she’d complied. After years in Athan’s custody, feigning interest in the act had become second nature. Kayla had suffered the demands of men throughout her life to survive, but it hadn’t broken her.

But never again.

She wouldn’t be complacent. Maybe Athan was in Tordania, but time and distance were trivialities to him. He could be anywhere he desired, traveling unseen.

After surviving fourteen years under Athan’s hand, she understood how unpredictable the old vampire was. Even if he wasn’t there to catch them, his seer knew. The old harpy would watch their travels, sending Athan in their direction when he returned.

Athan would slaughter the guard, but Kayla didn’t know what her fate would be. Perhaps it would simply be death, but after what she’d done, something worse could await her. Kayla didn’t fear death, but she wouldn’t let Athan be the one to kill her. And no possible Hell could be worse than life in his custody if he opted to keep her alive.

Despite the warmth between the bear pelts, her body shivered. She slid her left hand toward his waist.

He snorted and shifted.

Kayla froze, still afraid to blink. Her pulse raced, her shaking worsening.

The man settled, remaining on his back, his head lolling away from her.

Slowly, she reached again, her fingertips finding the handle of the knife worn at his waist. Kayla tried to slide it from the sheath, but stopped. The fit was tight, and it pulled the sheath and the belt with it.

She wriggled closer, placing her right hand against the sheath, steadying it. Kayla pulled again, rewarded when the blade slipped free.

Kayla froze.

The guard’s snores continued, his body still.

She brought the blade close to her chest, finally closing her eyes.

Kanan Steiner’s voice echoed from the past. You only have one chance against most men. They’ll overpower you. Land a fatal strike, then get out of their reach. Knives don’t kill instantly, and never leave the blade within their reach, or they’ll turn it against you before they drop.

Kayla carefully pushed the bear pelt off, the winter air meeting her skin with a deep sting. She rose onto her knees, the knife kept out of his line of sight should he wake. The fear-induced sweat on her skin crackled as it froze. However, her trembling ceased, a strange calm overtaking her mind. It would all be over soon.

She dragged the pelt off his chest.

Kanan had shown her the best place to strike. Center of the chest, beside the sternum, aiming toward the spine.

She stared at her intended point of entry, watching the slight bounce of his heartbeat beneath his tunic. The longer she watched, the more she was sure she heard it.

The man’s eyes opened to slits, his focus landing on her exposed breasts. He smirked, a rough hand lifting to give a painful squeeze.

His lips parted with a vulgarity, but Kayla didn’t want to hear it. She’d suffered enough. Her right hand grazed over his lower stomach, silencing him.

His mouth snapped shut, and he closed his eyes, arching his back. His hand fell away from her, as he hurried to undo the waist of his breeches.

Her gaze never deviated from her target. With his eyes closed and arms out of the way, she acted. Kayla’s arm swept upward, held the knife high, and then plunged it exactly where she’d planned. It struck with a dull thud, sliding with little resistance between his ribs.

His eyes flew open, a moment of stillness passing as he processed what she’d done.

Her left hand remained around the knife’s handle. The blade twitched with a few beats of his heart before she jerked it free, fluidly standing to keep the knife out of his reach.

He rolled onto his side without a sound, scrambling to grab her ankles. Kayla sprang away and over their campfire, the snow going unfelt beneath her feet.

The man stood, one of his hands covering the stab wound. However, once upright, a torrent of blood spilled between his fingers, drops landing on their modest campfire with snapping sizzles.

Kayla clutched the knife with both hands, holding it before her, backing away. She’d expected him to scream, but he didn’t. The only sounds were his breaths, but there was a growing wetness to them. His lips soundlessly parted, a pink froth spilling down his chin.

He lurched forward, but his breeches dropped to his thighs. He careened into the campfire. Only then did the screams come. He flailed and struggled to stand, embers scattering, orange sparks rising into the air.

She held her ground. For the moment, escaping the fire preoccupied him. His hair and shirt ignited, and he thrashed until landing in the thin layer of snow. He attempted to put the flames out, but his motions gradually slowed. He ended up on his back, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. His body jerked with a few agonal breaths, the flames in his hair and clothes shrinking until they blinked out. Tendrils of smoke rose from his corpse, tainting the air with an acrid reek.

Kayla didn’t let her guard down, standing naked in the snow, the knife held before her. She was entranced, paralyzed, expecting him to move again.

A clump of snow sloughed from a nearby tree. Kayla startled and spun, watching bits of snow tumble to the ground. She drew a deep breath and turned toward the man.

He hadn’t moved, and he wouldn’t. She lowered the knife as awareness of her body returned. Her shivering began anew. But this time, it wasn’t from terror.

Kayla edged around the campfire’s smoldering remnants, reclaiming her clothes and dressing. Once clothed, she returned to the pelt bed, needing to chase the cold from her limbs. She stared upward between the trees, watching the stars. Though the air stank of burned flesh and hair, it was the most beautiful sky she’d ever seen.

During her first seventeen years of life, Kayla suffered under King Turis Lee Sipesh’s tyranny. In the fourteen since, she’d lived under Athan’s hand. In the short time since escaping the castle, she’d placated the whims of the guard lying dead a short distance away.

For the first time in her existence, Kayla was free. She closed her eyes and cried.

THOUGH HER CAPTOR INTENDED to take them south to a coastal town, Kayla knew better. With him dead, she’d packed up camp, set his horse free, saddled her own, and headed northward. She needed to avoid civilization and any landmarks to stop Athan’s seer from telling him where to go.

The winter had been mild near the castle. However, that would change the further north she went. Still, she had no other options. She would survive in the wild to the best of her ability, and when she inevitably died from hunger or cold, so be it. Dying free was better than living as a prisoner.

She lacked any means of measuring distance. The mountains looked the same after every peak she crested.

The Talausian Mountains weren’t like the gentle, alpine-forested mountains of her homeland. The peaks were sharper, jagged, with exposed rock rising higher than any trees would grow. All sources of water she encountered were ice, and no grass remained exposed for the horse to graze.

The first two days passed without sleep. Though Kayla stopped to rest the horse, she didn’t dare try. Every snapping branch kept her on alert.

On the third evening, Kayla’s remaining nervous energy faltered. Her arms and legs were lead, impossibly heavy, dragging her from the saddle. She hit the ground and stared up at the darkening sky above. There weren’t any stars. While the cloud cover might keep the night from getting as bitterly cold, it was just as likely they’d bring more snow.

The horse made no effort to flee. He stood with his head lowered, tail still. Despite her exhaustion, Kayla forced herself to stand. She fought the stiffness in her fingers to undo the cinch, pulling the saddle and her supplies from his back, allowing it all to fall into a heap. She’d never find the strength to get it back onto the horse, and riding him further would be nothing but cruel. Kayla slipped his bridle from his head, and dropped it into the snow.

Like her, the horse was free, but there was nowhere to go. He remained in place, clearly feeling no better than she did. Without any nearby sources of water or food, the assured death sentence she’d given it tore through her. But, her eyes were gritty, providing no tears for her guilt.

She dug through her captor’s supplies, finding a tinderbox. Kayla gathered what little dry wood she found and set about starting a fire. She’d learned how as a girl, though Tordanian princesses weren’t formally taught such things. Kanan had instructed her regardless, but those lessons were decades past, her skills unused since.

She clutched the flint and steel accompanying the tinderbox, but the cold hopelessly numbed her fingers. Each attempt to strike a spark into the tinderbox knocked one or both implements from her grip. The effort ripped away what little energy she had, ending her attempts.

She sat back, dropping her tools to the ground. The forest was silent, the horse’s breaths no longer chugging away. Kayla scanned the immediate area from where she knelt, but the horse was gone. He’d found the motivation to at least abandon their campsite.

Kayla wrapped in the bear pelts, finding enough warmth within them to ease her misery. A deep burn grew in her feet as she lay swaddled, slowly warming. Attempts to wiggle her toes within her thin leather shoes produced no movement.

As the ache crept further up her legs, she kicked off her shoes and sat up to pull off her knit stockings. In the waning daylight, she found her toes a stony gray. They’d grown stiff, and touching them produced no sensation. A wide crimson swath marred the skin where they joined her feet. Her toes were dead, and her fingers would likely suffer the same fate within another day.

There was nothing to do about it. She pulled her stockings on, doing her best to ignore the pain. Sleep finally came, her mind flooded with disjointed nightmares.

SOMETHING MOVED NEARBY. Kayla emerged from the pelts, looking around, wondering if the horse had returned. Faint winter sun filtered into the small valley, casting the scene in subdued light. Kayla searched the deep shadows for the sound’s source, but she was alone.

The horse was gone.

She stood, her head swimming, the world unsteady around her. Kayla crouched, trying to push past the dizziness while the creeping sensation of being watched drilled against her back.

There was a print in the snow before her. She leaned closer, putting her hand beside it. It was too big to be one of hers, and it certainly wasn’t a hoofprint. Had Athan found her?

He would’ve woken me, she whispered, her mouth sticky, her tongue unyielding to the words. A bout of coughs wracked her, worsening the papery dryness in her throat.

Kayla stood, the world again tilting. She looked toward the horizon, hoping to steady her balance. The trees surrounding the valley were a hazed mass. The sky was gray overhead, but she couldn’t look at it, the glare sending bolts of heated electricity into her skull.

Kayla considered her small collection of supplies. She didn’t have the strength to carry anything. Even lifting one of the bear pelts proved too much, the attempt leaving her arms shaking, heartbeat pounding in her temples.

There was nowhere to go. Staying put offered the warmth of the pelts, but her burning compulsion to continue northward raged, relentless. She would die, but she’d do it on her terms as far away from Athan’s castle or civilization as possible. Human companionship only meant misery.

Despite her unsteadiness and the absence of sensation in her feet, she walked. She kept her hands tucked up under her arms, desperate to keep her fingers from freezing.

Her vision only worsened. She moved past another tree line, the scenery ahead a homogenous, white blur. The wind picked up, the icy sting of fresh snow striking her face.

Weightlessness filled her stomach when the snow beneath her gave way. Without feeling, her hands found nothing to grip. Snow engulfed her as she careened helplessly along in the small avalanche. Her fall violently ended, her body tossed away from the point of impact.

Kayla rolled to a stop on an unforgiving surface. After remaining still for several moments, she worked to stand. However, the frozen river beneath her offered no traction. Her efforts ceased, her limbs too weakened to support her even if she’d found footing.

That was it. Kayla had nothing more to give. Even her shivering ceased as the hard ice leached the last warmth from her body. She curled, wrapping her arms over her head to block out the agonizing glare. Still, the sawdust-like grit continued grinding at her eyes.

Her mind drifted from her physical misery, random thoughts rolling through her head. She saw her mother, Kanan, Corina, and a myriad of others. Even Athan’s harpy passed through her thoughts. The massive bird may have been Athan’s lackey, but she wasn’t evil. She was too impaired to understand exactly who Athan was or what her visions enabled him to do.

And she saw her son. Both alive and dead—a dagger driven into his heart after Athan killed him in a fit of jealous rage. Murdering Baden had been Athan’s final mistake. In killing the boy, he’d stripped Kayla of her only reason to remain, setting her on the path to escape.

For all the horror and misery, however, a sense of victorious defiance welled up.

She’d won. She’d escaped.

Athan had never pried into her thoughts. Ilana Aviatrov had taught Kayla how to keep her mind closed from the vampire’s clairvoyance, and she’d used it to her advantage.

Using that gift, Kayla had manipulated Athan into falling in love with her over the years. She’d not only hidden her true feelings from him, she’d openly deceived him by showing him feigned emotions.

His reaction to finding her missing would have been wonderful. The thought of his tirades and tantrums made her cracked lips break into a sincere smile. It sparked warmth in the depth of her heart, the cold disappearing. If she’d possessed the strength, she would’ve stripped off her clothes, as an odd heat spread through her. The cold no longer hurt.

Something moved, tearing her from her reverie. The faint crush of something walking across the ice toward her broke the quiet. A deep grunt followed as the animal approached from behind. She couldn’t lift her head to look. Even if she had, she was virtually blind.

However, she’d expected to freeze to death, not to get torn apart. Its steps didn’t sound like hooves, and it felt large, narrowing the pool of likely suspects. The grizzly bears of her homeland would be hibernating, but the ice bears didn’t. She curled tighter, hoping it would leave.

The air fell silent aside from the wind scattering hardened snowflakes across the ice. She moved her arms and peered at the outside world just as a blast of hot breath struck the back of her neck. Kayla recoiled and managed a hoarse cry.

Fear not.

Kayla froze. Though she’d heard phantom voices throughout the previous days, this was different. The words carried an unfamiliar accent, but they were Talausian and not from the beast sniffing around her.

Before she could respond, something heavy dropped onto her, blotting out the light and stopping the wind. The bear was on her, and she gathered her remaining strength to push it off. But there wasn’t any substantial weight behind the fur. She opened her eyes, her fingers curling into the thick white pelt draped over her. Kayla pulled it down to see.

Back in the unwelcomed glare of daylight, she squinted. There was a bear nearby, visible only because of its movement. It wore a saddle and bridle of sorts, her confusion worsening.

A figure leaned over her, and Kayla yelped. It wasn’t a man. Well, it was, but his skin bore the same cool gray as the snow clouds above. His white hair hung in thin braids, long enough to graze over the pelt covering her body.

She tried to speak, but her throat stuck together, arresting her words.

The stranger slowly knelt beside her, getting closer.

Kayla blinked hard, struggling to clear her vision. As he leaned in, she made out his features and the silver sheen of his irises.

An angel, beautiful in a way no human male could be. She was dead. He was there to take her away. Though Kayla had never been particularly religious, the teachings she’d received had proven true. His presence enveloped her with peace, all her remaining fear evaporating.

She smiled. Death hadn’t been terrible after all. She fought to speak again, this time managing a few words. Are you h—here to take me home with you?

He sat back. Do you not want to go back from where you came?

No, I’m ready, she whispered. Take me home. I want to go with you. I’ve suffered enough in the human realm.

He leaned in close again and studied her before offering a thin smile. As you wish.

Chapter

2

OF COURSE, SYTIR hadn’t been an angel, and she hadn’t died. However, he’d taken her home to the Nahli colony in the Northern Wastes. A human had never been allowed in before, but Sytir’s status as Chieftain of the Mage Caste gave him the authority to grant her access. Besides, with his grandfather being Grand Chieftain of the tribe, his occasional disregard for their rules and traditions went unchallenged.

The Nahli increasingly accepted her over the following decade. Kayla offered information about the outside world they’d long desired. While they interacted with some human traders in Minar, having a source of knowledge about the rest of the world proved useful.

All the while, Sytir shared his modest domicile in the caves with her. Eventually, she’d become his wife. Kayla had never developed a relationship based on her desires. While she’d endured Athan Vercilla’s arrogance and impatience, Sytir was reserved and always happy to help her adapt to living with her Nahli hosts. She learned their language and customs, integrating into their society. Though their union had stirred controversy, a well-delivered reprimand to the gossipers by Grand Chieftain Halier had squashed any complaints.

Kayla warned the Nahli of Lord Vercilla’s desire to expand his nation and invade Minar. The Nahli had kept a watchful eye on his dealings as the weather allowed, and a full nine years after Kayla’s escape, Athan made his move. His soldiers arrived along Minar’s border, and the Nahli had to intervene.

Sytir left the colony at the end of winter, traveling to the border. His departure worried Kayla, but she knew her husband was the only one capable of withstanding any threat the vampire posed.

As spring wore on, however, and he failed to return, her worry morphed into terror. When the days grew longer and the weather calmed, she found herself on the surface, scanning the horizon until the cold drove her back under the ice.

If summer arrived with Sytir in Minar or Talaus, it’d prove fatal. A million scenarios of what could’ve become of her husband filled her dreams, making sleep difficult.

Up waiting again?

She turned as Grand Chieftain Halier emerged from the portal leading to the caverns. He’s been gone too long. What if Athan captured him? When the heat of summer comes, he’ll die.

Though advanced age left the lenses of Halier’s eyes opaque, he followed the sound of her voice over the hard-packed snow to her side. He tipped his face toward the sun resting low on the horizon. The ifs will drive you mad, Kayla. He is our most capable.

I know what Athan can do, though, she whispered, following Halier’s blind stare.

You understand how important our trade with Minar is, he said. They are our last human contacts. Talaus swallowed all the other nations we used to barter with, and Athan forbids interaction with us. If we lose Minar, we won’t survive. We have needs that must be met through trade.

Kayla ran her hands down her face. I know what’s at stake, but losing the only man I’ve ever loved to Athan scares me.

Halier’s cataract-riddled eyes closed, and he tipped his head. Look into the sun. Your worries are about to end.

Kayla’s heart jumped into her throat. On the horizon, a tiny silhouette rode toward them, back-lit by the sunset. Is that him?

Don’t you feel it is?

She smiled and took several steps forward. I lack your mysticism, but I know I want it to be.

Sytir’s lumbering ice bear didn’t close the distance to the colony’s entry fast. She shambled along the ice, her front paws pigeon-toed as she plodded forward, giving up a few grunts when she noticed Halier and Kayla waiting.

Kayla ran to meet Sytir, but her relieved smile quickly faltered.

Sytir didn’t say anything upon seeing her. Though he’d always been lean, his body was visibly gaunt below his sealskin clothing. His carefully maintained braids lay undone, his hair wild. His half-lidded eyes met hers before he reined Shanka to a stop and slid from the saddle.

Kayla reached out for him, but he collapsed against her, dragging them both to the snow-covered ground. Sytir? What’s wrong?

He offered a weak smile but said nothing.

Cradling him with one arm, Kayla’s free hand swept across his chest and stomach, searching for wounds. Are you hurt? What’s wrong?

Halier crept closer, his knees crackling as he knelt at Sytir’s side. He placed a gnarled hand against Sytir’s forehead before frowning.

What? What’s wrong with him? Kayla asked, her body shaking, electric fear running along her spine.

Pranic fatigue, Halier said. He must’ve pushed his abilities past their limits.

She brushed a few arrant strands of hair from Sytir’s face. What’s that mean? How do we help him?

Time alone heals this, but I’m afraid his recovery will be slow. Halier rose again, giving a sharp whistle toward the colony’s entryway, summoning the sentries within.

SYTIR’S HEALTH SLOWLY improved throughout the summer. While he’d eventually described his confrontation with Lord Vercilla and stopping his intended invasion, other details proved harder to glean. He was tight-lipped during the best of times, and these weren’t the best of times as his recovery dragged on.

Kayla entered their home after her routine morning walk through the colony’s tunnels, surprised to find Sytir sitting on a cushion in their home’s main room. You’re out of bed?

He nodded, patting the sealskin cushion beside him. I’ll admit the children helped me.

Where are they? she asked, landing beside him.

They’ve headed up to go fishing, he said. I’m sorry for the trouble you’ve endured during my recuperation. I never wanted you to tend to me like that.

It was nothing compared to the care you gave me after bringing me here, she said, reaching out and picking up one of his forever-cold hands. I’d do anything it took to help you. I was afraid you wouldn’t recover.

Kayla, I...

What?

He looked at their joined hands. I let my pride get the best of me when I met Lord Vercilla. Knowing what he did to you in the past sparked an emotion within me I’ve never felt before. My self-control failed me.

Her heart rate doubled. What do you mean?

His pupils visibly widened. I didn’t simply forbid him from invading Minar. I said more than I should have.

Meaning?

I told him how we knew of his intentions.

Sytir, you didn’t!

I did. Not only that, but I did this.

Kayla watched as he offered a distinctly Tordanian obscene gesture. That elicited a fleeting smile, but the implications were serious. "Are you trying to tell me you let him know I’m alive?"

He nodded, gaze averting.

A void opened in the pit of her stomach, and she stood. Do you realize what you’ve done? You should have told me this when you arrived home!

He can’t reach you here, Sytir said. The aurora’s field is beyond the sight of his seer, and it stops his magic from working.

His seer doesn’t need to see me here! If he knows I’m with you, there isn’t anywhere other than the colony I could be!

He glanced up at her. I haven’t mastered control over my emotions yet. I acted impulsively, and that’s unbecoming of someone in my position.

Unbecoming? Kayla shook her head, her hands balling into fists. It’s more than unbecoming! Sytir, if he knows I’m here, he’ll come looking for me!

When I’ve fully recovered, I’ll reach him again, and I’ll kill him, Sytir replied, unsteadily rising.

Kayla reached out to support him. You can’t even stand on your own!

I’ll improve. I’ll regain my strength.

"And then what? Even if you kill him, it won’t assure the Nahli’s safety! He’s got sons and generals, all tainted with vampirism. If you simply pick off Athan, a power vacuum will arise. Athan may be the strongest of the lot, but he’s predictable. If he dies, the country will fragment into multiple nations, each ruled by a vampire! The world would go from having one vampire warlord to facing dozens. The chaos and misery it’d subject the people of Talaus to..."

Human politics aren’t ours to worry about, he said.

Her eyes narrowed. "I am human, Sytir. For as isolated as the Nahli want to be, you depend on humans for survival. And do you think any of Athan’s underlings will permit trade with you, knowing you’d killed off Athan?"

Again, he looked away. I don’t know.

"I may not like Talaus, Sytir, but only Athan is responsible for what happened to me. I may not like the human realms either, but I can still sympathize with their plights! I’ve seen how miserable a tyrannical leader makes their people! I saw it in Tordania from my father and in Talaus. Athan is bad, but what if removing him leaves someone even worse?"

I can’t take out all of his generals, Sytir admitted. I can’t scour the entire country for them, but I can kill Athan. He deserves to die for what he’s done to you and others.

He does, but we can’t cut the head off the Talausian Dragon without understanding the consequences. Kayla stared up into his eyes. "While I respect your abilities, a war against Talaus isn’t feasible. Your tribe only numbers a thousand. Athan has a million soldiers. You might slaughter his men in small groups, but if he delivered even a fraction of them here, they’d overwhelm you."

A faint purple tint rose to the ends of his ears and nose. I’ll fix what I’ve done.

You can’t. The Nahli can’t do this alone, and none of you can travel into the human realms to seek help, she said. I’ll have to do it.

Kayla, returning to the human realms would be suicide! he said, stepping back to stand on his own. You’d be away from the protection of the aurora and me.

I’ll take a Northern Star, she replied. It’ll protect me long enough to seek help. While going has risks, not going may mean the Nahli’s extinction. You don’t know what Athan is capable of like I do.

A human has never touched a Northern Star!

A human has never lived here, either. Halier doesn’t have a choice but to allow me to do so, she replied, the pang of a stress-induced headache scraping inside her skull.

And where would you seek help? Sytir lifted his hands between them. No one has honestly challenged Lord Vercilla in over eight centuries! What makes you think you can find someone willing to try?

I’ll see if the rumors of my father’s death we heard from Minar are true. If they are, perhaps I can get my brother’s help, she said.

A brother you’ve implied is a vampire, he said, pointing at the door. Your father had open dealings with Lord Vercilla. How do you know your brother isn’t like him?

I’ll be careful and find out, she said.

Sytir rose to his full height, a hand cutting through the space between them as his expression went deadpan. I won’t allow it.

"I hate to point it out, Sytir, but you’re the Chieftain of the Mage Caste, and