Page 84 of The Shadow Fae Rhapsody
I have not.
I keep my face neutral over his remark.
“We did hunt every last one of his kind,” Rivtarr finally speaks, swirling the wine in his glass. “Have you ever created a progeny?”
I have slit someone’s throat for lesser insolence, but this nasty bastard is important to Rhianelle’s cause.
This is her night. I will not ruin it.
“No, it’s too much hassle.” I deign an answer.
The truth is, I never have the desire to enslave someone to my will the way Lilith did to us. I do not want the attachment, nor will I doom another being into this wretched existence.
“I heard they’re like heirs and children to your kind,” Taron chimes.
“They are,” Rivtarr cuts in to answer for me. “I once made a Nightwalker spill all his information by threatening to kill his creator. You see, the one who made them is like a parent to the young vampires.”
“I’m guessing you killed them both at the end of your questioning session,” Taron says with a dry laugh.
“Of course,” Rivtarr replies flatly.
The vampires they’ve tortured are descendants of Ruth or Vlad. I know several of them that were truly vicious and brutal. But most were simply young, forcefully turned, and might not have deserved their cruel fate. I quell the urge to remove the priest’s head from his spine.
Red recognizes the souring conversation and tries to steer me away. But I can’t move. Not when my beautiful wife is wading her way to us with a crease in between her brows. Her presence immediately quells the dark wrath boiling within me.
“What is going on? Explain yourself,” Rhianelle demands to the priest coldly.
It’s rare that I hear the tone coming from her.
A queen’s voice.
“We were just discussing how vampires are an abomination to the human race. A curse,” Rivtarr remarks easily. This condescending way in which he talks to his queen makes me want to rip his tongue out. My control starts to crack and a damper of my power slips through the fissure. The nobles and folks with enough sense start retreating to the corners of the hall, their survival instinct taking flight.
Rivtarr calls in one of the helpers with a wave of his hand. He demands for his cup to be filled. “Their curse is so foul that it is said that they could not eat normal food. One of them described it as tasting like dirt. This eventually becomes my best method of extracting information from them.”
The vampire expert smirks, offering me his chalice. “Care to give us a show?”
I bite down a snarl.
Rhianelle steps forward, but Eyepatch is lighting fast and he snatches the goblet from the dickhead.
“Lord Rivtarr, I must stop you right there,” the knight says, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
“What are you doing, boy?” the priest asks sharply.
“The vampire is the Queen’s consort. Therefore he goes under my protection,” Eyepatch replies in a calm voice. “If this can harm him, then I will not let it—
“It’s fine,” I say curtly.
I take the damn cup from the knight and drink it in front of the elven aristocrats.
The entire chamber goes still. Even the music stops.
I grab another glass—the damn bottle from the server and drain half of it.
I stare straight at the priest the moment I am done.
“Those vampires were making an absolute fool out of you.” I say, teeth gritting. “Anything else you’d like to test?”
