Shadow's Claim (19 page)

“Bettina!” Caspion? He’d left his admirers for her? “I’ve been looking for you!” He jogged up to her, still spattered with dried blood from the fight. He glanced around, lowering his voice. “You’re alone here? Aren’t you afraid?”

Salem and Cas were the only ones who knew about her phobia. “It isn’t so bad tonight.” Not a lie—she hadn’t had a full-blown attack yet.

He didn’t look like he believed her. “I’ll walk you back.” He took her bag with a frown—he knew she wasn’t a knickknack type of person—then offered her his arm. As they started toward the castle, relief breezed through her. The shapes of the buildings morphed to normal, the alleys opening up like mortal freeways.

“You fought really well tonight, Cas. I was so proud.”

“Did you see what Daciano did?” Before she could answer, he said, “Bastard muscled into my skirmish
just for the chance to kill me himself! I was about to get free of that whip even without his interference.”

Not true—and Bettina was almost glad it wasn’t.
Otherwise I bet five boons for nothing.

“The vampire returned for you.”

She gave a slight nod. “I could scarcely believe it.”

“I was only in Dacia for a short time. But from what I heard, Trehan is like
Mr. Dacia
. He loves his kingdom more than any of them. You two must’ve had, uh, some night.” He seemed to be looking at her with a new regard, which flustered her.

“What are you doing here, Cas? I thought you’d take another female”—or two, or three—“home with you. Aren’t males usually keen to after a battle?”

His shoulders went back. In a steady tone, he said, “No others for me, Tina.”

With a tremulous smile, she murmured, “Really?”

“People would talk. I would never insult you like that.”

Her smile faded. “I appreciate your consideration.” People already talked. She was the subject of pity, the weird halfling hopelessly in love with a strapping demon.

“Now that I’ve entered, everything has changed.”

“How so?”

“I will figure out a way to defeat Daciano. Somehow. And I will win you. We’ll rule together, and we’ll be good at it. I will endeavor to always be true to you. I consider us betrothed; I have since I signed my name to enter.”

“Endeavor?” she said softly. “Will it be so difficult?”

“It’s not exactly my nature. And you’re not my mate.” He raked blond locks off his forehead. “I
did
warn you, Tina. You have to be patient with me.”

She sighed. He
was
trying. “I know. And I appreciate all you’re doing. But why are you so certain you’ll defeat the vampire? Daciano seemed formidable”—
unstoppable
—“in the ring.”

“I’ll study him, discover his weaknesses.”

If only it were so simple. “And what about Goürlav?”

“I’ll figure it all out. Don’t fret over me.”

Of
course
she would fret over him. She’d been doing it for nearly a decade.

Cas escorted her to her secreted castle entrance, but didn’t follow her in.

“You’re not coming up?” she asked, though she wanted to work anyway.

“We can’t do that anymore. People will talk if I go to your spire.”

She raised her brows. “Most of the combatants will be in a brothel tonight, but I’m expected to go to my lonely bed?”

“That’s the way of this world, I’m afraid.” His expression darkened. “I’m concerned about the Dacian returning to your apartments. He
cannot
have access to you, Bettina.”

“I thought a vampire could never hurt his Bride.”

“I’m not worried about him hurting you. I’m worried about him pressing his claim, trying to bed you fully.”

“Salem will boot out any unwanted visitors.”

After a moment, Cas nodded. “Tomorrow at sunset, I’ll escort you from here and bring you back after my fight. Consider it a date,” he said with an affectionate smile.

Surely he knew what effect that look had on her. “A date.”

“You’ve been proud to call me friend, Tina. I’ll make you proud to call me husband. I vow this.”

And there went her heart.

“If you want to leave this spire, you must contact me first.”

“You know I’m too scared to go about alone.”
Will I be tonight?

“True.” He gave her a brief peck on her forehead, then traced away.

As she rode up the elevator, she considered what Cas had said about discovering the vampire’s weaknesses. He couldn’t get close enough to Daciano to learn anything meaningful.

But I can.

Inside her suites, she removed her cloak and mask, calling out, “I’m back.”

In a distracted tone, Salem answered, “So you are. Big night, then? Lots of developments.”

Floating closer to her, he said, “I told you the vampire would return. What was he talking to you about on the stage?”

“Nothing important.”

“Your little chin-wag wiv him was the subject of
much
discussion. He was all proprietary with you, like you’d known him a while.”

“I never saw him before last night. You know that.”

“You held his things for him while he fought,” Salem pointed out.

“Because he foisted his coat on me!”

“Perception is reality, chit. The wily leech wants others to think you’re his.”

Chit? She was a princess! Why did everyone forget that?

Because you let them. . . .
She remembered Morgana
had once told her, “With your actions, you train others how to treat you.”

“I don’t want to talk about the vampire,” she said. “I’ve got work to do.” She turned toward her workshop, planting herself at her drafting table.

Again and again she attempted to sketch a new piece, but she was stumped. She needed a unique design, something Patroness had never seen.

She tapped her pencil against her bottom lip, her thoughts turning to tonight. Even if she decided to go, how was she supposed to get from point A to point B alone, without an episode?

To go undetected, she’d have to choose the most deserted route. A recipe for disaster.

Which would be stronger? A panic attack—or her vow to give the vampire what he asked for?

Bettina rose, stretched in a futile effort to relieve the tension in her shoulders, then began to wander aimlessly, still debating what to do.

She found Salem in the sitting room, unusually quiet, using telekinesis to thumb through her celebrity magazines—luxuries imported from the mortal realm.

She paced up and back; he turned a page. Repeat.

They continued like this as her grandfather clock ticked on. . . .

Toward midnight, she knew she had to get rid of him soon. But how?

“Princess.” Salem suddenly occupied the door. “Going out for a spot.”

“Pardon?” Yes, she wanted to get rid of him, but what if she’d actually wanted protection? “You’re leaving me? What if I’m afraid the vampire might return?”

“Tonight I’m on a mission.”

“What kind of
mission
?”

“The kind that takes precedence over protecting you from a vampire
who will never hurt you
.”

“Tell me what you’re talking about.”

“I’m going to spy on Goürlav, try to puzzle out a way to kill him—without bringing ruin on the kingdom. Otherwise you just got engaged to him tonight.”

She shivered at the thought. Before she could ask more, he said, “Laters.”

Alone. One less obstacle to prevent her midnight meeting.

Bettina poured a glass of wine with a shaking hand. Dread over the short walk to the field of tents mingled with a different kind of anxiety. What favors would Daciano want from her? What might he demand? Maybe he’d ask for a repeat of what had happened last night.

More kissing, more touching.

She was so
curious
about him, about his reactions to her—about males in general.

If only she could remember her first sexual experience more clearly. Though much was foggy, three things had been etched into her mind: the pleasure of his mouth on her breasts, the new and wondrous feel of his shaft, and the scalding heat of his seed.

Face flushing, she drank deeply. She thought about sex as much as the next twenty-something halfling, and Daciano had given Bettina her first taste of real passion.

In turn, she’d blooded him, giving him his first release since his heart had stopped beating; had it been all he’d hoped?

How could it have been? She was hardly an experienced sexpot. Add “sexually untutored” to her list of deficits.

Damn it, how could she be insecure about this—she hadn’t asked for him to steal into her bed!

Okay, say I go . . .
Yes, she’d promised to give him boons. But she hadn’t vowed to perform them blindly. She needed to set parameters tonight. Then she’d proceed to learn everything she could about him to help Cas.

Salem will figure out Goürlav; I’ll handle the vamp.

This worry might be all for naught. Most likely she’d freeze at the castle entrance, unable to venture forth. Or would her vow compel her to skulk down darkened lanes—alone, powerless—exactly the sort of place where enemies were wont to hide?

She inhaled deeply, struggling to block her mind off from those memories. To no avail.

We’ve been watching you, Princess.
Those fiends still lived, could very well be watching her right now.

A mouse might escape from a hawk, but never for long.

She flung her glass against the wall, hating her fear. Hating herself.

T
rehan often awaited his targets. He had crouched upon roofs in the night, leaning against chimneys. He had hovered above them as light as mist. Always, he studied them before he struck.

Now he stood in the foggy drizzle upon a rooftop outside Castle Rune, awaiting Bettina—to
watch over
her. After the way those drunken entrants had spoken about her, he would never allow her to walk through the encampment alone.

Earlier, he’d collected his bag of clothing and weapons from beneath the bridge—he supposed some part of him had always known he’d enter the tournament—then traced to the fallen vampire’s tent.

Inside, he’d found an ornate desk and chair, a divan, golden goblets, carafes of blood, and a bed of furs on the ground, as was the vampire way. Amenities and luxury for the taking. The Horde had always been wealthy.

So he’d unpacked his few belongings. In his haste, he’d been forced to leave behind so much. But he had the two items he truly treasured: his father’s sword and the scry crystal. The former was sentimental; the latter was priceless.

After hanging his standard outside the tent, he’d made himself at home—because that was the closest thing he had to one now.

A short
conversation
with the dead contestant’s vampire squire had gained Trehan a new servant as well.

Now in the streets below him, the mad scramble of delegates and contestants spying on each other had begun. Soon he’d have to undertake a fact-finding mission of his own. But for now, his focus was on Bettina.

Through the fog, he spied movement at the base of the castle. A concealed door was opening, revealing her at the threshold. She wore a cloak that covered her hair and most of her body, as well as a mask. But he could still see she was panting, her gloved fingers digging into the doorjamb.

She looked as if she were a vampire about to check the time—with a sundial.

Eyes darting behind her mask, she took one halting step out, then another. By the time she reached the closest building, she had to stop and lean her slender frame against a wall for balance as she nearly hyperventilated.

She dreads meeting me this much?

And why wouldn’t she? He’d forced an overprotected, virginal—and very young—female to sneak to his tent for an assignation. In her mind, he was almost a stranger, and she would have no idea what he might demand.

No doubt she imagined the worst, and now her nerves were frayed. Guilt scored him.

But then a scavenging kobold, a sort of reptilian gnome, knocked over a basket near her, scuttling away. She jerked away from the clatter with a cry and flattened herself against the wall. Chanting something between breaths, she pressed one hand to her forehead as she swayed.

Surely this was more than nerves, more than virginal misgivings. She was utterly terrified.

Her trembling brought to mind the moments from last night when he’d been struggling not to bite her. Though he’d been nigh mindless in the grip of his blooding, he now recalled two words she’d whispered,
“Not again.”

She’d thought he was about to hurt her; clearly someone already had. Another vampire? Trehan didn’t think so—she’d shown no more reaction to that Horde vampire at the tournament than to any other contestant. Then who?

She
was
like the most absorbing book he’d ever encountered.
How to turn the page?

Suddenly that strange and inexplicable frustration from months before returned, the dread that had woken him. He rubbed his chest. What had called to him so sharply then? It must have been related to her.

Protect.