“I would refrain from the parasite talk around any of the vampires here,” I warned softly. “She would have been within her rights to drain you right there and none of our coven could have done a thing in retaliation.”
Draven growled at me, snatching his dagger from the air, heedless of the deep cut he inflicted on himself as he caught the weapon blade down. “We’re stronger than she is!”
Anger began to gnaw at me, and I knew my eyes were crackling with lightning now. Draven was the hotheaded twin, the one unable to make a move without speaking his mind, but it didn’t mean I had no temper. I was simply more careful, because when my temper was unleashed, it was truly a thing to fear. Draven’s madness was hidden behind his brusque behavior, his taunts, even his temper. Mine? Mine was coiled, waiting and watching, and when it was released, even I couldn’t guarantee the outcome. Bran’s had been tempered with humor, even laughing as he killed… I growled, pushing the intrusive thoughts away. “Possibly, not definitely,” I reminded him slowly. “She is the heir to the throne. Underestimate her at your own risk—and at risk to me as well.”
Draven deflated at that, his shoulders sagging as he slid onto his bed, his knife returning to its sheath. I’d have to remind him to clean that later. He worked the laces of his shoes, tossing them aside as he looked up at me. “I’d never let them hurt you in my stead, Crowe.”
“You wouldn’t have a choice, so if you truly don’t want me to become an appetizer, let alone a meal, then you’ll learn to keep your mouth closed.” I began my own routine of undressing as he considered what I said. Although Elsie had made the point earlier, his own pride wouldn’t allow him to hear the truth of it from her lips, it had to come from me. “You’ll need to clean all that blood up,” I reminded him. “Or you’ll be a walking beacon to anyone who doesn’t mind the taste of witch.” Draven merely grunted.
“Do you really think we’ll find anything?” Although his voice was nearly a whisper, I had no trouble hearing him in the silent room. I slid under the covers of my bed, considering his question.
“I hope we do.” There was no hiding the worry in my tone as he settled down into his own bed. We’d been searching for answers for so long now, I sometimes wondered if maybe it would be best to give up. To simply step back and enjoy our lives rather than waste the time we had in a fruitless effort.
“She’s got so many books,” Draven murmured. “So many more than we’ve found before. There has to be something in them that can help.”
“Possibly,” I agreed. “Though if they’re only human or vampire related, I’m not sure how much help they will be.” When the plagues had hit, it hadn’t only been humans who had their history erased. While few witches were vulnerable to the plagues that took humans, we weren’t impervious to the riots and lawlessness that befell the panicked population. Witches were stronger than regular humans, but we were just a miniscule minority. At most, ten percent of the human population displayed witch powers, and of those, not all managed to survive to a majority where they could learn to control them. Our oral histories were frequently lost as they were only passed clan to clan, and many witches chose not to share them with their human offspring, thus allowing said history to die off or be corrupted as the years passed.
“She’s saner than I expected.” Draven’s observation was almost sulky, and a smile tugged at my lips.
When we had asked around the castle about books and histories, many had pointed us in Elsie’s direction. Although it was clear her position afforded her a modicum of respect among her people, it was also obvious they thought the princess odd at best and insane at worst. Even before we’d been directed her way, we’d heard the whispers about her, about how she didn’t do things like the others, about how she stayed locked in her rooms, rarely eating or indulging in the parties the other vampires took pleasure in. I’d expected an unkempt, matronly woman, one who was teetering on the brink of outright insanity, talking to herself or rocking in place. When she had appeared in front of us after the family meal, it had been impossible to see her under the gore that coated her from head to toe. She’d been a living nightmare, with her teeth and eyes flashing brightly against the rapidly drying blood that coated her like a second skin. Even then she had shocked me, her speech coherent and prideful as she’d told Draven off and strolled regally away. It had been enough to have me second-guessing the whispers of the mad princess, but nothing had prepared me for seeing her amid her books. Her blonde hair had still been damp, but it did nothing to hide the golden shades. Her blue eyes had flashed with both fury and mirth, an invitation in their depths for any who dared to look. Her skin was pure and clear, a light flush under it from her recent feeding, and I’d had to fight back the urge to see if it was as soft as it looked. And her body… even under the loose silk she wore, it had been clear she was lushly curved, the kind of figure a man could fill his hands with as he lost himself inside her. For a moment, I’d been speechless, unable to even prevent Draven from mouthing off or starting a fight as I tried not to swallow my tongue. Or worse, beg to see what she tasted like. I had never been attracted to a vampire before, but even the hint of her fangs had caught me in her spell, the lethal canines making her look dangerous in the best way.
“I can’t believe she has a pet,” Draven added, breaking me out of my fantasy of the sexy vampire. I shifted slightly, glad that the thick comforter disguised my hard length.
I wrinkled my nose at that, considering it. “Did anything about that seem, I don’t know, different to you?”
“Different how?” There was a hint of something in Draven’s voice that I couldn’t identify. He was hiding something from me, though I wasn’t sure what. He’d open up in time, I had no doubt. We always did.
“She let him speak freely. She seemed almost pleased when he did.” I searched for the words I wanted as I stared up at the ceiling. “Almost like she was proud of him for telling you off.”
Draven scoffed. “What was with that, anyhow? He seems to hate us nearly as much as her. I caught the looks he was sending her way. I’d expected a pet to be worshipful, or at least cowed, but there were times when he looked at her like he was planning the best way to murder her in her sleep.”
I’d wondered if he’d caught Sebastian looking at her that way, and more than that I had wondered how Elsie had missed it despite how deep in her studies she was. Was it possible she had seen it and simply didn’t care? Though, if that was true, I couldn’t understand why. “He was able to read and write,” I replied, trying to work the problem through in my mind. “That seems to be of use to someone like her. As for his hatred of witches?” I hummed softly as I considered it. “I didn’t sense any power from him, not even enough to be considered of the lowest class.”
“Maybe he’s resentful the gene never appeared for him?” Draven’s suggestion was hesitant, and I could only shrug.
“Or he’s had bad dealings with our kind before. You know she wasn’t off base about the kinds of witches there are. Many simply don’t care about anything besides themselves.” I knew that was a tender spot for Draven, but it wouldn’t help to let him wallow in a false belief. “Hell, we’ve done plenty of things that the others of the coven would say was purely selfish.”