Page 44 of Velka Manor

I don’t have time to break it easy to her. Time is ticking on, and the poison is working fast. I stand up, nodding my head to Bastian for him to take over. He rushes round and pulls her up until he can hold her in his arms.

“Did it never occur to you why Ghost volunteered so readily to be your spy in this castle? He was in the ranks to be a top player, and he left it all to do this. Doesn’t make sense, does it?”

I crouch down beside him, pushing him back in his chair, lifting his head. “He’s Octavia’s biological father. He’s been working with me since the moment he came here. Lucinda was already pregnant before she married Father, something he found out quickly but decided to save face than admit it. You would have murdered him had you known, and that privilege belonged to my sweet sister.”

I twist my head and catch the heartbroken gaze on Octavia’s face as she leans into Bastian’s arms. I’ll make it up to her. I’ll do anything.

“How does he taste, by the way?” I ask Grandfather, turning my attention back to him. “I found him surprisingly sweet. Ithought it would be bitter, seeing how much of a bastard he was.”

He wheezes in the chair, the poison seeping through his veins, blood trickling out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes flick to his plate, gazing at the slab of meat he thought was veal but turned out to be his son.

I reach into my pocket, producing a needle with the antidote. His fingers wiggle, arm falling as he tries to reach for it.

“Ah, ah,” I tut. “Not yet.” I grab a chair, pulling it closer to him, twirling the thing that may very well save his life between my fingers.

“I will give you this antidote, Grandfather. I’m not a monster. Well, I am, but I’m a cunning one,” I say, leaning back and crossing my legs. “Your death will bring me nothing but work. I’m not in the mood to rule the bloodline yet, not when I’ve just gotten Octavia back. I want to give her the world, let her have some fun for once in her life, but make no mistake: Iwillbe coming for your blood one day. It just doesn’t have to be today.”

I will run the bloodline one day, as I was fucking made to. I thrive in the darkness, lost in the shadows, pulling the strings of everyone around me. I will do it now if I need to, but I meant what I said. I want to give Octavia some peace, some fun. If he declines, Bastian can be that for her, but I want to be as well.

“What…do…you…want?” he gasps, slumped in his chair.

I lean forward, grasping his chin, pulling his head so he really hears me. “What I want is a blood promise that nothing will ever happen to Octavia. She will no longer answer to the bloodline; she is free from it. You will give your blessing to our marriage, Bastian and I will take our father’s place in the bloodline, and we will work as normal with the freedom to accept or decline jobs. We will receive immunity for almost killing you, and it will be a secret no one else will know about. No one will know how easy it was to take you from your throne.”

I place the syringe by his heart, raising an eyebrow, waiting. He licks his bloodstained lips, his gaze flickering down to it, then back up. I shrug my shoulder, lowering the needle, but he takes the last of his strength to grab my wrist, stopping me.

“Deal,” he croaks, and I slam the syringe straight into his heart. He bellows, his scream of pain echoing in the room before he slumps in his chair.

I leave it sticking out of his chest and walk back over to Octavia and Bastian. The latter stares at our grandfather with pure, unhinged joy, the former staring at me with pure anger.

“Angel,” I say, but her head whips around, eyes flaring with accusation.

“Later,” she snaps, leaving no room for argument, shrugging out of Bastian’s hold. She stomps over to her chair, pulling it out roughly, plopping down, and downing the rest of her drink.

Bastian winces, and we share a look, knowing we are going to have to do some major grovelling to make up for keeping that from her.

Grandfather groans, pulling the needle out of his chest and placing it on the table. He grabs a napkin, wiping his mouth and face, shaking his head. Bastian prods the meat on his plate, scrunching up his nose, and Octavia watches him making the same face.

“Was it the food or the drink?” Grandfather says, his voice raspy.

I smirk, watching as he eyes the two things as I shake my head. “Your cutlery. It was bathed in poison, and the remnants soaked into your skin.”

I click my fingers, and a maid comes in carrying a new, poison free set of cutlery, handing it to him. He eyes it for a moment, but only for a few seconds before he takes it. He keeps his gaze on me, cutting into the meat on his plate, chewing slowly. Not to be outdone, I do the same.

“At least your father was good for something. He makes a fine tender piece of meat,” he says, taking a sip of his drink.

“I think I’m going to vomit,” Octavia whispers, her complexion slightly green. I try to grab her leg to soothe her, but she bats my hand away.

“What date did you plan for the wedding, then? The invites will need to go out, events arranged. I’m sure I can find another bride the Carters will find suitable; they did love the picture of Octavia, but no matter. Will you be telling the bloodline about her true paternity?” Grandfather asks, all civil and polite. You would never guess from his tone that he was seconds away from dying by our hand.

“No,” Bastian and I say at the same time. We don’t care what anyone thinks.

“Very well.” He nods, snapping his fingers for his drink to be refilled. “I know you’ll be coming for me now, Dorian. It won’t be this easy ever again.”

I smirk, raising my glass, taking a sip before saying, “Yes, but like this time, you’ll never see me coming, and there will be no escape.”

24

Bastian

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