Page 87 of The Duke’s Bloody Bargain

He patted my back. “Don’t squeeze me too hard.”

When we stopped at Raven Hall, yards from the front gate, the golden light from the fairies twinkled in the darkness and lit the ugly fog and its snakes.

I had to admit I was glad Esmeralda had answered my call for help. The fairies might not be good fighters, but they knew how to deal with dark magic on a practical level.

The wagon carrying Rothbart rolled to a stop, and instant tension went through me. My fangs descended of their own accord, urging me to drink his blood. Right before I’d turned into a vampire, he’d beaten me, causing the transformation to be more painful than it was supposed to be. And my fear of touching had begun.

I’d thought about killing him for years, and now I couldn’t. But if Odette was alive, then I would gladly wait to kill him.

Esmeralda raised her arms, and the golden light intensified. The warm golden brightness lit the garden as if it were day.

As she and her fairies advanced towards the entrance of the mansion, the snakes recoiled, and the fog withdrew, lurking away from us.

Carrying Darius, I followed the fairies, walking in a golden tunnel of light.

“I have to say, your muscles are indeed strong,” Darius said, wincing. “Even your fingers.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment. You’re holding me too tightly.” He curled up his upper lip.

“Sorry, mate.” I nodded at the golden light. “Impressive, innit?”

“It’s beautiful.” Irene gazed around. “The golden light works perfectly to keep the fog at bay.”

“The fairies are excellent at chasing away the darkness,” I said.

He huffed. “Cheap trick. If I were well, I would… No. That’s fairy magic. It’s different. It’s ancient and comes from the fairies’ immortal souls. Yes, it’s impressive.”

I clicked my tongue. “You truly must be unwell if you’re admitting someone else’s magic is impressive.”

Knight came forth as two werewolves carried a half-unconscious Rothbart. His eyelids kept drooping, and he would collapse if the werewolves weren’t holding him up.

Morquen staggered onwards as well, dirty with mud and with his suit wrinkled beyond redemption.

At the entrance, Esmeralda studied Rothbart for a long moment, tilting her head right and left.

“What is she feeling?” I whispered to Irene.

“Sadness and shock,” she said. “I think she didn’t expect us to be right.”

“Lord Rothbart is alive.” Esmeralda’s voice lacked its usual melodious tone as she watched him being taken away.

I didn’t comment and tell her that she’d been the only one who hadn’t believed us.

She faced me, her hands trembling. “Do not underestimate him.”

I gritted my teeth. “We won’t.”

If anything, she’d underestimated him.

“I was present when Danvers, the necromancer Duke of the Wraith Court, and Rothbart were killed.” She wrung her hands for a moment before regaining her composure. “I don’t know how Rothbart survived.”

“The necromancer must have taught him a trick or two,” I said, going up the stairs to Darius’s bedroom.

I laid him in the bed, and Myrtha was immediately by his side.

“I’m going to prepare a tray for you.” She seemed about to take Darius’s hand but stopped. “I’ll be back soon.” She hurried out of the room, her dirty, ripped gown fluttering around her legs.