Page 32 of Blood On His Lips

His hand tightened in my hair. “You are young. You've yet to do anything that would force me to kill you. There's little you could do to bring me to that line.”

I shook my head, or tried. But a second later, the fleeting desire to unburden myself evaporated.

I guess I didn't have a death wish after all.

So much for guilt.

“You are for me, and I am for you,” he said and finally released me, stepping back. His eyes paled, the swirling blue now pinpricks. The calculating eyes of Everenne's Prince, and not simply a male who insisted on his claim.

“But you are correct in a certain sense, Aerinne. You cannot survive at my side as you are. And if I have claimed you, I have offered you myself in return. I will help you. I will not allow you to succumb to your own inadequacies.”

“What does that even mean, Renaud?” My nails bit into the palms of my hands as I curled them into fists, trying to keep from lunging, from grabbing his robe and shaking him.

Damn it. Damn all the Ancients and the old realm. “What are you going to do, Prince?”

The dream shattered.

* * *

I woke up cursing, swiping at the sunlight that assaulted my eyes, and rolled out of bed like a drunk.

“Fuck.” I slid into English. “Rat bastard son of a bitch.” I surged to my feet—and pulled up short.

Juliette stared at me, a sucker dangling out of her mouth. “And good morning to you too, Princess.”

“I mean this in a loving way—don't fucking call me that.”

She pulled the sucker out of her mouth. “Right. But it's past breakfast, and Tereille sent me to tell you that you have a supplicant.” My cousin gave me a wide, malicious grin, framed by two fat, golden braids draped innocently down her shoulders. “I don't think this is a supplicant you want to leave hanging around your office.”

I swore some more, stomping towards my bathroom to start getting ready. “Just kill me now.”

“Yes, with the new company you keep, you're probably going to achieve that wish sooner than you think.”

* * *

Tereille met me coming down the stairs once I left my room. I paused on a step, tilting my head at the odd look on his face.

“Your visitor,” he said, his expression serious for once, “prefers to remain incognito. They owe me a favor for sneaking them into the house.”

My eyebrows slowly rose. “AmIalso going to owe you a favor?”

I could think of a handful of people who might want to speak to me in secret. Unfortunately, that handful of people included those I didn't want anything to do with. I took the stairs down to my office two at a time, and when I entered, a tall, cloaked figure turned towards me.

“Tereille, guard the door, casually. From the outside.”

The door clicked shut a moment later, and Lord Baroun Montague pushed down the hood of his nondescript rich brown cloak, his gleaming topaz eyes dark, the usual malicious smirk on his lips absent—for now.

I leaned against the office door, crossing my arms over my chest. “What do you want?”

Was this my life now? Everything was upended. Enemies were allies, and allies were enemies, and now Baroun Montague was standing in my office. . .for what?

“All things considered,” he said, “I believe it is time you and I came to an understanding. My cousin has little interest in the petty details of ruling Montague, and Lord Danon remains our guest.” He smiled sweetly. “You and I are the respective Lords of our Houses. Presenting your father as Lord has been a clever strategy—does he realize he is your cloak so you can rule from the shadows? And how your commander pretends at disdain. . .no one who doesn’t know you like I do would have any idea it is all a feint.”

I stared at Baroun, wondering if I was going to have to finally kill him. It wouldn’t be easy. “You and I already have an understanding,” I said instead.

“That understanding is outdated, considering the change in your status.”

I tensed, though I tried not to show it on my face or in my body. I knew what this was.

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