Alaric stands at my side but makes no move to comfort or protect me.
Then, in a low, deadly calm voice, he says, “She is not yours to feed upon or punish. If any vampire dare lay a finger on her, she has my permission to end them as well.”
Chapter Five
Clara
We walk through the empty, back halls of the castle in silence. I shiver, my clothes damp from our efforts at removing as much blood as we could. Alaric had healed my arm on the way back. The skin is smooth. Not even the faint line of a scar remains. I don’t know what that vampire had cut me with, but it wasn’t night-forged silver, and she wasn’t one of Elizabeth’s, only a lesser vampire.
I pull Alaric’s jacket tighter around my shoulders. He’s hardly said more than a handful of words since we left the theater.
“Why aren’t there other vampires in these halls?” I ask, breaking the silence.
He looks at me from the corner of his eye. “Most in the castle wish to be seen, so they stick to the main areas.” He turns to face me fully. “If you go anywhere on your own, stick to these back passages as much as possible.”
“So, I don’t have to stay locked in the room?”
Alaric’s mouth quirks up on one side. “Why would you think that?”
“Because of what I did.”
“No. Just stay aware of your surroundings at all times.”
I nod. “Will I be punished for…” My question trails off.
“No,” he says shortly. “I gave you permission.”
Neither of us needs to go into detail. They will not defy him because he is the crowned prince to the throne. That thought that churns my stomach.
We stop before our room. He opens the door but doesn’t follow me inside.
“Are you disappointed in me… for tonight?”
Alaric smiles and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is quick, and when he pulls back, his deep sapphire eyes search mine. “No, I am proud of you. I must leave you now to feed.”
Without thinking, I extend my wrist toward his mouth. “Then feed,” I say.
Alaric wraps his fingers around my hand and places a searing kiss to the inside of my wrist. “No, Clara,” he says. I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off. “We both know why.”
The mark. The final mark.
Cherno flits past my head and lands on Alaric’s shoulder. The little demon watches me. The intelligence in their eyes and their personality is far more advanced than any greater or lesser demon I’ve crossed paths with.
Alaric takes my shoulders and says, “Get cleaned up and get some rest.”
Then he closes the door between us.
I remove my now ruined outfit and wash the blood off me, scrubbing until my skin is raw. Even when the water is dark pink, I still can’t erase the touch of that vampire. My neck is healed of the bruises from his crushing grip, but the memory his hands around my throat squeezing is a physical echo.
While I hadn’t intended to kill the vampire—at least not at that moment—I don’t feel remorse for my actions. I don’t know if I should or what it means that I don’t. It was only supposed to be a threat. How could I know he’d speed up?
I dress in fresh clothes. Familiar dark brown pants, fitted perfectly to my shape, glide easily over my legs. Then I slip a loose cream blouse over my head. The gently worn outfit is comforting against my skin. I inhale Alaric’s faint musky scent clinging to the material. It’s a relief to know I can wander freely here. The sun will rise in a few hours but I am too wound up with excess energy to sleep.
After closing the door behind me, I turn and crash into a solid form, bouncing off and stumbling back several steps. I rub my nose and tilt my head back to see what—or rather who—I ran into.
Lawrence looks down his nose at me, a single, thick, golden brow raised. “Is Alaric in there?”
Suddenly, all the moisture in my mouth is gone. Should he be back by now?
“No.”
He bobs his head once and turns. I reach out and grab his arm, stopping him. I don’t think better of it until his gaze locks onto my hand and doesn’t move. Slowly, I let go.
“Could something have happened to him?”
Lawrence heaves a sigh. “That depends.”
I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t.
“On what?” I prompt. The question comes out harsher than intended.
“On when he left,” he pauses, mulling over his next words. “And if… Elizabeth required an audience with him.”
I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “He left to feed about an hour ago.”
He nods. “Then you have nothing to worry about yet.”
Before I can question him further, he is down the hall in a blink, heading toward the stairs.
The mention of the vampire queen twists my insides into knots. I hate the idea of Elizabeth requiring anything of Alaric, mostly because I know she wants him, and that alone is enough to make me jealous. It’s an ugly feeling. She is a powerful vampire, like he is, and I am only a human—a temporary fixture in his life.
One day I will die, and he will continue on, unchanging and unending. It doesn’t matter what I feel for him because he can never be mine.
Swallowing down the thoughts that will lead nowhere, I debate whether to follow Lawrence and ask him for more information or to wait to the room for Alaric to return.
But I have too much pent up energy, and I doubt Lawrence would be willing to entertain my questions.
In the end, I do neither, opting to go left toward the less populated halls through the servants’ quarters. Looking for the library would give me something to do. I don’t know if I’m allowed there, but who would miss a few tomes, especially if I return them when I finish?
I only make it to the top of the stairs before I pause, turning to look at the bust that caught my attention earlier. I approach slowly, as if she would come alive, which is ridiculous. It’s only a carving. Leaning forward, I bring my face close.
The figure’s eyes are closed, and there isn’t a single imperfection visible. It’s so lifelike. Each strand of hair, each eyelash, and curve of her features is carved in minute detail. She looks as if she were once a living and breathing person turned to stone.
I reach out and brush my fingers over her cheek, almost expecting it to be warm.
Two voices sound from the far end of the hall, startling me. I straighten, accidentally tipping the bust. I lunge, managing to catch it before it topples off its pedestal, and settle it back into place.
The voices draw nearer. I don’t recognize them. Stone grinds. Then the back of the alcove gives way revealing a dark passage. I inch toward the dark opening.
I have two choices: stay here and find out who the voices belong to or go into the hidden tunnel. I’m not overly fond of meeting new vampires, so I duck my head and head into the passage.
The door slides closed behind me as I stand in place, waiting for my eyes to adjust. It takes several minutes, but eventually, the faint outline of stairs comes into focus.
I press a hand to the wall. It’s damp, almost slimy to the touch, but I don’t pull away as I descend.
The stairs are narrow and steep. I make my way down. Every once in a while, a sliver of the wall is cut out, allowing in fresh air and the thinnest beam of light. It wends in a tight circle, continuing far deeper than it should to reach the ground level.