Page 8 of Siege of Blood and Betrayal

He doesn’t move to glance at his watch. “Zane and the dagger will never fall into yer grasp. That is the only thing that matters now.”

I swipe at the tears burning hot against my cheeks. As a young girl, I grew up thinking my father was invincible. It was more than the magical enhancements of him being a Sacred Squire—throughout my entire life, he never got overwhelmed by anyone or anything that came at him.

He got pissed off plenty, sure—he’s a Scotsman, after all. Being stubborn, hotheaded, and quick to fists is ingrained as part of his DNA—but no one ever bested him.

He has always been my hero.

And he always will be.

“Forgive him, lass. It’s been the greatest honor of my life to be yer da, but yer a chip off my block. Deep breaths. Love ye forever and always.” My father’s words slur as his life drains from him.

“What are you babbling on about?” the woman snaps.

When his body slumps, I crumple forward and press my face to the floor. My world is dark.

No! I’m not ready.

My father is too vibrant to be killed by a power-hungry, transitioned bitch. I came home to celebrate his life, not to witness his death.

“Wait. What just happened?” the woman shrieks.

There’s a commotion on the other side of the mirror as she moves to examine him. “You idiots! I needed him alive to open the vault so I can claim the dagger.”

“He couldn’t have died from the knife wound, my queen,” one thug says. “There is nothing vital where I stabbed him.”

“And yet here he lays—useless to us.”

I clench my fists and fight not to burst through this mirror and grab the bitch around the throat. Useless tothem?My father was a great man who lived by a code of honor they couldn’t even begin to understand.

He’s dead. Francesco is dead. And all she cares about is that things aren’t going her way?

My lungs are locked so tight I can’t breathe. The ache of loss expands from my chest and burns ice hot as it spreads, consuming me. My arms and legs tremble as blood rushes to my extremities with alarming force.

It feels like my body is about to break apart.

Wait. This isn’t natural. Is my life essence bound to my father’s? Will I die tonight, too?

There’s a horrifying moment when I consider my life over. A highlight reel of memories flashes before my eyes and it splits my experiences into two camps: my years as part of this family, living in the Vasari compound, and then the years after I walked away and left it all behind.

I claw at the icy fire crackling at the base of my throat and fight to stay conscious as dark spots close into my field of vision. It strikes me then—I know what this is.

It’s the transfer of Da’s power.

Given how protective he has always been of me, Da made it clear he would pass the fighting enhancements of his position to his apprentice, Huntley.

But as the magic etches its way into my flesh, so does the reality of the situation. He knows me best. He trusts me the most. He knows how deep my loyalty to Francesco and Zane goes… and he knows there is a traitor within the compound.

The filigree of Sacred Squire history expands across my ribs and down to my hips. From what Da told me, the branding is the easy part—the true transfer of power is what sucks the worst.

I clench my teeth as vaporous streams of golden energy rise from his body, pass through the mirror, and worm into my eyes, ears, and nostrils.

The violation is horrid.

I brace my hands on the floor and lock myself down, helpless as my father’s squire magic finds a new home within me.

“What is that?” the burgundy-haired vampire says on the other side of the mirror.

I’m not sure if she can see the energy transference or if I let a groan slip out, but I’ve drawn the attention of the woman vampire and her men. Panting in the darkness, I fight to remain as quiet and still as possible.

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