Page 31 of Darkest Heart

She placed a hand on her hip, shooting me a glare that could rival any vampire. “Are you meeting Gwen again? Don’t think I don’t know what you do.”

“I’m not meeting Gwen,” I replied dryly, “not that it’s any of your business.”

“We’re engaged.”

“Yes,” I hissed. “I will see you this evening.” I turned my back, then hurried away. If it wasn’t for my father’s orders to continue to make her believe the nuptials were going ahead, I’d have killed her by now. All she did was fucking question me, have people following me around the castle. She didn’t care about me before, but the more I pushed her away, the more she clung on.

I followed Azia as he casually strolled out into the foyer, then through the arched doors and into the snowy courtyard. A noble bowed to me, and I smiled. I could get used to this crown. As soon as we were past the trees and by the pond, he stopped, looking over at the small cottage nestling amongst sprawling ivy and plants. “This competition must be stopped.”

“I’d wondered when you’d step in,” I answered, walking up beside him. “My father won’t budge on this, and frankly, I don’t care to stop it. If it brings the mortals to us, then that’s a win for me.”

He shook his head, his calmness alarming considering the topic. “This will end in a war.”

“We’ve been long due for one,” I replied, and he turned on his heel.

“This is not a joke. I have stayed here at Sargon’s request while he searches for Olivia, but I will not stand idly by and watch you and your father descend everything we have built into chaos.”

I whistled out a breath, suppressing my laugh. “You haven’t built anything.”

“You are far too arrogant, and that does not serve well for someone who wants to rule. Although I doubt that will happen.”

“Another prophecy?” I taunted.

“No, but I will do everything in my power to prevent you from ever being king. Olivia and Sebastian will rule Sanmorte after Sargon, but we must manage her first. If her heart darkens, then the prophecy will come true. That one does affect you,” he snarked, teeth grinding as he took a step away, placing a foot between us. “Someone from within helped the aniccipere gain access, and it is not just Astor because he’s gone. He has a confidante here. I am certain. Who? I do not know.” He whipped his head around as low chatter reached us from a couple of people taking a walk through the grounds. “Inside,” he said, and strode toward his cottage.

Once inside, I closed the door. “It wouldn’t be my father,” I said, continuing his last thought. “He can’t stand them, neither can Velda.”

“What about Gwendolyn?”

My shoulders tensed. “She has nothing to do with this.”

“Hmm.” He didn’t look convinced, but I wasn’t about to have him accuse her of something I knew she wouldn’t do. She believed Astor was innocent, which, while stupid, proved her innocence. “What about one of the nobles?”

He placed a tin teapot on the stove and pulled out a china cup. “Get your Blood Brothers onto it. Have them tail whoever they can. We must find out who the inside informant is, and in the meantime, I will do damage control with the other kingdoms.”

“Why are you still here?” I questioned.

“In Sanmorte?” He clarified, and I nodded, leaning back against the doorframe. “I made a vow to help your kind, although one's like you make it difficult.” He poured his tea, the citrusy aroma unpleasant to my senses. “However, there are ones worth fighting for.”

Ah. There it was. “You are all for the princess, aren’t you? More so than your precious king.” He didn’t answer. I paced the room, my gaze trickling over the various old books on his shelves. “You have an excellent collection,” I admitted and ran my finger down the spine of one. “Does Sargon know you hold all these forbidden titles?”

“The king,” he emphasized, “gives me access to anything needed.”

“How stupidly trusting of him.”

He sat on the armchair, sipping from his cup as the daylight faded from the window. “Some of us actually have meaningful connections worth trusting.”

“Sounds dangerous to me. Trusting people means showing your weaknesses, and that leaves you exposed. I’d rather not. That way I can’t get hurt.”

“Well,” he blew over the hot tea, “that sounds awfully lonely.”

“I don’t feel lonely.”

“How would you know?”

I swallowed hard. “I’m not one of your mentees. Anyway, I have arrangements to attend.”

“This tournament will not end well, for any of us,” he warned as I headed for the door. “Especially you.”

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