Chapter 32

32

Ella

Lord Aamon escorted me to the prince's chambers himself. The royal wing in the high tower was protected by sentries at every exit, and despite the prince's own counsel as my escort, they regarded me with suspicion. The royal tower was off-limits to most servants, and I would never have gotten in on my own. If nothing else came of my reassignment, I'd finally be able to draw a complete plan of the castle.

The royal wing was far more opulent than the rest of Silverthorn, but in a more muted and appealing way. Everything was meticulously organized and clean, and the graphic scenes on the ceilings of the ballroom were replaced by the royal insignia, patterns of twisting roses. Paintings of rustic landscapes adorned the hallways, and along with the vases of freshly cut wildflowers, they were bittersweet reminders of what our kingdom might have been, if not ruled by monsters.

We circled higher and higher through the tower until, at last, Lord Aamon opened a set of elaborately carved wooden doors for me. "You may begin in here," he said with a twisted smile. "I'm sure you'll be quite suited to the work."

I stepped inside the dimly lit room, and my eyes zeroed in on the oversized canopy bed. "But this is…his bedchamber."

The lord lifted one eyebrow. "Yes. Does it displease you?"

Infinitely.

"Of course not," I answered. "I'm happy to serve."

"Good. Then you can get started on…" He paused and swept his gaze across the immaculate space before turning back on me. "Do you know how to prepare a fire?"

"Of course I do."

The question should have been whether I could prepare a bonfire . The brick fireplace was large enough for me to stand in, and I estimated that if I contorted my shoulders, I'd be able to climb up the flue to expunge the ashes. Hopefully, they had pages for that.

"Excellent. Afterward, I suppose you can busy yourself with whatever else you see fit." He paused in the doorway, halfway out. "Best of luck, Ella."

His tone suggested I'd need it.

I stared at the doors as they clicked shut.

I was a spy, alone in the prince's most private quarters. The potential of it gave me butterflies. Whatever happened, whatever the prince expected, I couldn't mess this up. It was an opportunity my stepmother would have never dreamed of.

Pip scurried out from the folds of my dress and began inspecting the room. "Don't stray too far," I warned him.

Several logs were already neatly stacked along two iron bars in the fireplace, each bar welded to an intricately wrought dragon that stared back at me with empty eyes. I arranged tinder and kindling beneath them, opened the damper, and lit them with a match from a silver box on the mantel. It wasn't long before flames licked through the eyes and mouths of the winged beasts and smoke spiraled up the chimney. The royal emblem of the prince's house was a rose, but I recalled from my father's teachings that an ancient line had borne a dragon insignia.

A shiver raced down my spine. If magic was real, perhaps dragons were, too.

Pip darted across a thick rug toward the bed, which was neatly made with plush pillows and a giant fur coverlet, and was big enough to sleep three or four people. Did the prince entertain his mistresses there? I imagined him coiled in the arms of two women, sighing with pleasure. My mouth tightened with an emotion I didn't want to admit. What did I care who he bedded?

Just as long as it's not me.

Crossing toward the heavy drapes, I flung them open, revealing a set of windowed doors that opened onto a private balcony. "What I would give to have a view like that," I murmured.

Doubts began to creep in as I continued my assessment of the flawless room. I brushed the pad of my thumb over the swooping wooden backrest of the settee. Not a single speck of dust. Who'd cleaned this place before me? Everything was neat, edging on militaristic. There were no discarded piles of clothes or empty glasses like in the sisters' rooms. No rumpled, bloodstained sheets like the ones Katherine and I had to change in the guest rooms. What was I even supposed to do?

I glanced at the bed again, then pointedly looked away and explored the rest of his chambers. Two adjoining rooms flanked the main quarters, a glass-domed lounge that offered a sprawling view of the night sky, and the largest and most impressive bathroom I'd ever seen.

"Sweet Fates," I whispered as I stepped into the bathroom.

Soft light flickered from sconces, casting the space in a warm, sensual glow. A lavish clawfoot tub with a swooping faucet sat in the center of the room, framed by black decorative tiles, while a spacious vanity with dual sinks and mirrors took up an entire wall.

I smiled to myself. Perhaps I'd take a bath one night while the prince was out riding.

I checked the tub. Pristine. Did he even live here?

On my way out, I paused by a strange fixture in the corner of the room. It was like a large, marble-tiled closet with a spout in the ceiling. I'd never seen anything like it and couldn't imagine the point.

I headed into the lounge with the glass ceiling, and a writing desk at the far corner caught my eye. A black and gold fountain pen lay alongside an inkwell and a stack of blank paper. The sheets were smooth and silky and probably worth a fortune. I peered at the doors, then slowly opened the top drawer and shuffled through a pile of loose papers. An invitation to a luncheon held by the Duke and Duchess of Eparnay. Another to a state dinner held by House Cavney.

This had potential.

I delicately paged through the countless invitations to social gatherings. They probably weren't important documents by royal standards, but they might prove useful to the resistance.

This is the opportunity I've been waiting for.

With a quick glance over my shoulder, I took an empty sheet, dipped the nib of the pen in the ink, and began transcribing names, dates, and the family signets—at least, when I could discern them in the broken wax seals.

It was strange that I didn't recognize any of them. I didn't frequent the village often, but I was familiar with the names of most of the immortal nobles who lived in the Bloodvale. Whoever had written these invitations didn't live around here.

A chill worked down my back. How many other villages or kingdoms existed beyond the Bloodvale? I'd heard rumors of people living past the haunted forest, but I'd never seen evidence of it until now.

The immortals were keeping secrets from us.

I tensed as voices sounded in the corridor outside. Setting aside the pen and inkwell, I quickly straightened the papers and put them back in the drawer, but the voices outside quieted. I waited for a minute but heard nothing.

Oh, what the hell?

I peeked into the second drawer, my mouth souring at what appeared to be a thick dossier of eligible brides. The topmost woman, who was obviously an immortal, was Lady Marbury of House Darr—beautiful beyond words, judging from the miniature painted portrait. Dark raven hair like the prince's, sweeping cheekbones, and oval green eyes…

The double doorknobs rattled.

I shut the drawer and shoved my transcribed notes down the front of my dress, barely ducking beneath the table before someone strode through the heavy doors. I pressed my eyes shut and shook my head. Why was I hiding? This would look even more suspicious if I were caught.

The footsteps paused for a moment, then slowly angled toward the desk under which I was crouching. "What are you doing beneath my desk?" The prince's face appeared before me, his thick voice grazing my adrenaline-flushed skin.

Panic hit me. "I was desperately looking for something to clean in this mausoleum of a room. Apparently, you don't actually live here, or someone has already beaten me to the job."

"Nobody but you has been in my bedchamber."

Did he mean today or this past week?

He extended his hand toward me. I stared at it for a moment, then took it, letting him pull me to my feet. His skin was warm and calloused, and something about that made bubbles alight in my belly.

He watched me carefully, his stormy eyes a shade paler tonight. "Do I still frighten you?"

My heart raced, and I felt a little breathless from the adrenaline. I stepped around the table, putting some distance between us. "You're the future king of the Bloodvale, and you've murdered more humans in your lifetime than I could probably count. So, yes, you frighten me a little."

He circled the large desk, his long legs quickly closing the distance between us. "Why did you dye your hair?"

My breathing quickened. He must have been out riding or hunting because the sleeves on his soiled shirt were rolled up and sweat glistened on his thick forearms.

"I was tired of standing out. I was drawing unnecessary attention, and I thought I'd try something new."

More accurately, Bianca had given me the option of dying it brown like hers or shaving it off. She'd seemed to prefer the second option and had generously offered to do it herself, implying she might like to lick the blood from the razor.

The prince paused. "I liked your natural color. It reminded me how singular you are, and to never take anything about you for granted."

I swallowed hard. "Oh?"

He stepped close, and the rich leather scent of him enveloped me, making my stomach flip and head spin.

"For instance"—he leaned across the desk, his face at the level of my breasts, and readjusted the inkwell and pen—"your job is to clean my quarters."

My stomach dropped. Oh, hell.

His gaze scoured me, and I wanted to die. "Can I trust you to respect my privacy?"

"I'm sorry, I bumped the desk and tried to put it all back."

He watched me intently. "For future reference, my desk does not need to be cleaned, nor the area beneath it. I will tend to it myself."

" Nothing in here needs to be cleaned," I protested, hoping my feigned anger would mask my guilt. "Why was I assigned to your quarters, Your Royal Highness?"

"My name is Cassius."

Something about the rough tone in his voice sent a shiver of pleasure down my back, and I blushed. "I don't think I should be using the prince's first name."

"I'd prefer it when we are alone."

Like a dirty little secret.

I swallowed. I didn't dare refuse him, did I?

"Yes, Your High—I mean…" I cleared my throat and whispered. "Cassius."

"Say it again." His gravelly voice grated over my tender skin in the most delightful way, and I pressed my thighs together.

"What?" I asked, head suddenly spinning.

"Say it again."

My breath caught. He was only one step away.

"Cassius." His name slipped off my lips in a sultry breath, and hunger blazed in his steel eyes.

It was too much. I backed off, putting the desk between us. "Why am I in your bedchamber, Cassius? There seems to be no work for me to do here."

The muscles in his jaw tensed, and something heated flashed in his eyes. "I value your talent with my horses. Assigning you to Lorayna and Bianca was a mistake."

Bullshit.

I didn't want to jeopardize my good fortune by questioning his decision, but I also needed to have his expectations laid out crystal clear. There were some lines I wasn't willing to cross.

At least, I thought there were.

"Why not assign me permanently to the stables, then?" I placed my hands on my hips, instantly regretting it as his pale eyes tracked the motion.

Cassius moved around the front of the desk, his gaze locked on me like a predator to his prey. "The stables fall within Lorayna's purview, and she would still consider you her thing to torment. I don't want either of them to have anything to do with you. This way, it is clear that you are mine ."

"What do you mean, I'm yours ?" I matched his movement, slowly circling the desk, maintaining the distance between us. The prince had a way of sucking up all the air when he was close, and I wasn't going to make that mistake again.

"You're my servant, with all the protections that go with the role."

That wasn't the way he'd used the word. It had verged on possessive. Almost guttural. My palms grew sweaty as Bianca's warning dashed through my mind: As soon as he's done fucking you and draining you dry, he'll discard you.

"Do you plan to have your way with me, then?" I asked. "Or am I here to pay the tithe?"

Surprise flashed in his eyes, and his pupils dilated. "No. I haven't fed on another for centuries, and I don't plan to start now."

The tension left my shoulders as a mixture of relief, curiosity, and— disappointment ?—fell over me. "Well, good."

Of course, there were other routes by which he could have his way with me…

He stepped forward, and suddenly, his chest was only inches away, rising and falling in a heavy cadence. I saw the desire in his eyes, restrained but burning still. I felt its reflection in my core, flickering flames of curiosity and need.

He reached up to touch my face, then dropped his arm, fist clenched. "Don't worry. I will never feed on you without your permission." His voice was thick as honey. "Nor take anything else you do not freely give."

Anything else…as in a kiss? Or my maidenhood?

I inclined my head. "Why? You're practically the king. You can take whatever you want."

He leaned closer, his intoxicating male scent heightening the treacherous desire building inside me. His eyes focused on my mouth. "Can I? Take whatever I want?"

Fates save me.

His sharp teeth grazed his lower lip in a seductive motion that nearly undid me.

I knew right then that he was telling the truth. He wanted me, but he'd never touch me without permission. I could feel his almost violent restraint. He vibrated like a bowstring pulled taut, the arrow mine to release.

The power was intoxicating. Enthralling . I had the prince of the Bloodvale hanging on my word—and I wanted to give it. It was a dangerous desire, and it called to me the way the candle flame begged you to touch it.

It didn't matter that I despised what he represented, because the truth was that I'd wanted him since I'd first seen him silhouetted on the back of his horse. Since he'd thrown himself between me and certain death. Since he'd first looked at me with those stormy eyes.

"You can have anything, Cassius," I said, my lungs starved of breath.

His pupils dilated again. He cradled my chin, his fingertips rough but pleasant, tipping my head back so my mouth was in line with his. "That is a dangerous thing to say to a male who has murdered countless souls like you."

I should have been frightened, but I wasn't. My core ached, and I wanted so badly for him to kiss me. As if sensing it, his lips pulled into a sinful grin, and he leaned in?—

Strong fists banged against the doors.

The prince released me, and the moment shattered. The fire was banked, and I no longer held him in my grasp.

He gave me one quick, heated glance, then strode toward the door, fists clenched. "What is it?" he growled, flinging open the doors.

A red-haired female dressed in a black leather cuirass and military insignia peered in, her eyes rounding at the sight of me. "Apologies, Your Highness. You've been summoned by—" She hesitated. "You've been summoned."

"Of course, Commander." The prince strode out of the bedroom without sparing me a parting glance.

She narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously, then disappeared after him.