“Of course it does,” he says, clearly offended. “Harrison was the ex-boyfriend of the Blake girl. I’m sure Margot was heartbroken about something your friend did, and Secora melted his brain for it.”
I swallow, closing my eyes.
“Sorry,” he says instantly. “Didn’t mean to bring up Harrison or the fact…”
He trails off.
“What if I was there?” My voice cracks, and I take a shaky breath before trying again. “What if she came to kill Harrison, and I was there, and I didn’t save him? What if I stood there like a coward, and she stole my memories to make sure I couldn’t expose her?”
“Then be grateful,” Henry says. I don’t know when he moved but he’s suddenly at my side, rattling my shoulder until I look at him. His expression is somber. “Be grateful she didn’t kill you too. Thank the Mother she spared you, and leave well enough alone.”
“It’s not that simple?—”
“It is,” Henry interrupts. “Itisthat simple. Leave it alone, Elliot, and stay far away from that woman.”
My only response is a forced nod, my jaw clenched tight.
He’s right. Ishouldleave it alone.
But he’s wrong too. It’s not that simple. Even if I wanted to stay away from Secora Reed, I can’t. I need vampire blood to keep Mama alive until I find a cure—and Secora is the only one who will give it to me.
10
THE ENEMY’S SON
CORA
My palms itch with sweat. After more than a decade living with vampires, I’m not quick to anxiety. I’ve grown harder over the years, more calculating, less reactive. Only Elliot can rattle me like this, and he’s not even here. All I have of him is this wrinkled parchment, delivered two mornings ago by an overcaffeinated werewolf teenager.
I thumb the letter in my pocket, smoothing over words I’ve long memorized.
To Secora: I promised not to return. I will respect that agreement. However, my patient needs more blood than I hoped, and we are no closer to a cure. I would like to propose a new agreement. Tell me your desires, and I will make them yours.
Respectfully,
Elliot B. Lyrie
His words stir deep in my stomach, igniting a sensation I thought I’d left in the Day Realm. He doesn’t know what he’s doing to me, of course. He doesn’t know I’ve been imagining him saying those words against my ear.Tell me your desires, and I willmake them yours.I want to write him back, assure him there is nothing “respectful” aboutmydesires.
“You’re late,” Beatrice says as I enter the courtyard.
It’s enough to pull me back to reality. I remove my hand from my dress pocket, but I swear the letter’s ink is stained on my thumb. Dropping my hands at my sides, I stride across the lopsided cobblestone. This courtyard once held a massive statue of Sebastian at the center. After he stepped down as king, they had it removed. Now, the space is filled with overgrown grass and an ever-expanding infestation of weeds.
“I am not a member of your little club,” I say. I stop at the edge of the large table in the corner, resting my hands on its stone surface.
The entire inner circle stares at me, but my attention settles on Sebastian. Even after stepping down as king, he maintains an air of importance. He and Grace sit at the head of the table, her with an electronic device unfolded in front of her. Before coming here, she’d lived in the human world, and apparently, some habits die hard. Moving pictures flash across her device, but when Grace inevitably loses interest in me, it’s not her entertainment she looks to. It’s Sebastian.
She watches him with adoring fascination, and within seconds, he breaks eye contact with me. He can’t help but look at her, and it sends a physical ache through my core. The pain settles in the bottom of my heart, a relentless, steady torture.
I shift my attention to Milas and Amelia, who each claim a side of the table, then Beatrice who sits opposite Sebastian. The three of them look ready for a night out, and they’re undoubtedly biding their time until they can leave. Though none of them have said it, I suspect sharing Sebastian’s rule isn’t as glamorous as they imagined.
Between all of them, endless parchments and artifacts cover the table’s surface. They’re the same artifacts as always, the onesneeded for the sun curse ritual. Despite everything, they’re still seeking a cure. A fix to the ailment my kind brought over theirs.
They know as well as I do that they’re wasting time. There’s nothing in those texts that will help them, and those artifacts haven’t been useful since the curse sealed.
There’s only one thing that can help them at this point, but they’re not going to like it.
“Not part of our club, and yet, you’ve never missed a meeting,” Beatrice says sweetly. She rests one hand on top of the other as she grins at me. Her sharp black nails are long enough to brush the tabletop.
