Chapter 10

10

Cassius

I left the commotion of the courtyard behind and strode through the entrance into the great hall, my thoughts clouded and furious.

What the fuck was the silver-haired woman doing here?

First, she'd been in the woods last night with the bloodthirsty bastard I'd gutted, and now here she was in my castle. It was too calculated to be mere coincidence. But what was her game? Was she an informant sent by one of the great houses? Or was it possible she was here of her own volition, perhaps drawn by our encounter the night before?

Whatever she was, it was trouble, and I didn't need the distraction. Not now.

"That one caught your eye, didn't she?" Aamon prodded.

I lifted an eyebrow at my counsel. "Who?"

"The girl with the silver hair?" He chuckled. "The one from the woods last night? Everyone saw the way you looked at her."

I grunted as I strode through the great hall, my lip curling at the exhaustive array of fine tableware that had been spread across the long tables to be polished. "I thought she might be a threat. I was wrong. She's nothing."

It was a lie. She was something, but I didn't know what, and I was determined to find out.

Aamon made an incredulous sound, and it took an enormous effort not to stab him. "I've seen how you deal with threats, Cassius. It's not like that."

"She has a way with horses," I said dismissively. "There will be plenty here soon with the ball approaching."

I'd never seen anyone, let alone a mortal , have that effect on Tenebris. And what in the hells had spooked him in the first place?

Suspicion and a myriad of dark thoughts muddled my mind, and in the center of them was her. Ella .

Aamon drew close. "I think you fancy a taste."

A twinge of desire rose like a long-forgotten temptress. It had been decades since I'd felt anything but apathy, let alone lust for a female. And her scent. The mere memory of it made my fangs ache. I shook my head. "Trust me. I have no interest in the little mouse."

He shrugged, stepping away. "Then I assume you won't mind if I take her for myself. She's quite a unique specimen, and I suspect she ta?—"

I spun on my friend, gripped his throat, and pushed him into the nearest wall. Wood cracked, and a portrait of my father buckled. "Keep your hands off her if you want to keep your head."

Aamon raised his hands in surrender as a teasing grin spread across his face. "Just thought I should get some clarification. No need to get violent, Your Royal Highness. Clearly, you have no interest in her whatsoever, and of course, neither do I."

I released the cheeky bastard and exited the great hall.

Aamon cleared his throat and hurried on behind. "However, on the off chance you are feeling possessive of that one, you might wish to mark her as your own sooner rather than later. I saw the way the others were watching her, and I'm certain I'm not the only immortal who'd fancy a bite. The court loves novelty, and that hair of hers is rather breathtaking."

A vicious rumble rose in my throat. "I have no interest in claiming her. I just don't want you or anyone else to, either."

I couldn't care less about their kind, but she'd already been attacked once. I would not have it happen again. Not, at least, within the walls of my castle. It would be an afront to my rule.

That was all.

"You should have the girl work for Lorayna," Aamon suggested. "She and her sister are viciously possessive of their servants and run them to the bone. They prefer to feed from tall and brooding males anyway, so you can be sure the girl will keep her chastity intact while here in the castle." He glanced over with a wry smile. "Considering what you did to the last man who touched her, we don't need a pile of bodies turning up before the ball."

I clenched my jaw. She meant nothing to me. There was no reason for me to be protective or possessive, yet there was something about her that made me murderous.

I gave Aamon a curt nod. "Fine. I'll speak to Lorayna. After what the girl did with Tenebris, I assumed she'd be assigned to the stables, but this is a better plan."

If the girl worked in the stables, she'd be on display for every immortal in the castle.

Although I'd intended my words to signal a dismissal, Aamon pursued me like a relentless and irritating shadow.

I sighed. "Is there something else, Lord Aamon ?"

"We need to talk about the ball, seeing as it's only three weeks away. Have you decided on the wine you want served?"

Apparently, Bianca, the Mistress of Ceremonies, had managed to turn him into her attack dog.

"Does it matter?" Avoiding the courtiers, I skirted the inner courtyard and headed up the stairs to my private wing.

"To me, of course not, but the Mistress of Ceremonies keeps asking me, and it's annoying as fuck. I'm your counsel, not a party planner."

"Better you than me." The sconces lit as I stepped into the study, hoping the solitude would ease the tightness in my chest, but somehow, it felt more suffocating. "Have her choose whatever wine she sees fit."

I dropped into one of the chairs below the stained glass window, exhausted by even contemplating the politics of the court.

Aamon strolled over to one of the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that lined the room and pulled out a book. "I've never seen anyone throw a party with less enthusiasm for it."

My fingers thrummed the arms of the chair as I gazed absently at the empty one beside me. My brother's chair—the king's seat. Unlike the one on which I sat, the king's seat had a high back and was decorated with ornate upholstery and detailed carvings of roses and thorns, the emblem of my family's bloodline—a bloodline my brother was supposed to ensure.

"This ball wasn't meant for me." The vitriol in my voice came naturally.

Aamon stopped paging through his book and looked over at me with a raised brow. "Are we circling back to this again?"

The arms of the chair cracked beneath my grasp. "The moment I take the throne, I condemn my brother to a life of exile. You know that."

Aamon snapped the book shut. "Valen made that choice when he abdicated. He knew it meant he could never return."

Anger thrummed in my friend's voice. I knew he hated Valen for the position he'd put me in, but I couldn't summon an ounce of anger. I would run, too, if it wouldn't leave the kingdom in tatters.

I forced my fingers to release the splintered wood. "I would have welcomed Valen home with open arms. He could have come back."

Aamon shook his head. "No, Cassius, he couldn't. The Triad would never permit it. The die has been cast, and if he's out there and still sane, he knows it."

As much as it stung, I knew he was right. The mantle of rule had fallen to me, and I couldn't give it up.

"You need to leave him behind and move forward, or the other houses will take your hesitation as a sign of weakness," Aamon said.

I released an ironic laugh. "And choosing a bride at a silly ball is a sign of strength? It's a ridiculous tradition."

"The council doesn't expect you to choose her then—just to announce your decision after the last dance. That's why you need to do the work now ."

It felt like the walls of the study were closing in. My lips curled. "You know the ladies of this court. It's an impossible task. They're all conniving, power-hungry, and treacherous. Which I would respect, if I weren't liable to wind up staked through the heart in my wedding bed."

Aamon returned the book and leaned against the shelf. "Then we look beyond the immediate court. We scour every one of the great houses."

"The ball is in three weeks. How am I supposed to find a woman who will be a capable queen, someone I could trust and bear an heir with, but can feel no affection for?"

"No affection?" My friend laughed. "Is this about what that old woman said to you? You can't seriously believe any of that."

The seer's words echoed in the back of my mind. If you fall in love, the woman you choose will destroy everything your father built. And if she ever takes the throne, she will make your people pay the price of their thirst.

I cracked my knuckles. "The old woman is touched by the Fates. I do not take her advice lightly—nor should you."

"Touched by the Fates?" Aamon scoffed. "She's a drunk . She's touched by whiskey, not prophecy. You know as well as I do that there's no magic beyond these walls."

"There are plenty of things out there we don't understand. Things not affected by the curse over the wood."

The creatures that dwelt deep in the forest, for instance.

Aamon shrugged. "Maybe. Or she could be trying to mess with your head."

I rubbed my temples. "Everything about this situation messes with my head."