Page 68 of Dhampira

“Rasimir is wrong about me,” I said through numb lips. “I can’t hang on to power. The merman’s magic slipped away almost as soon as I stole it.”

“You can’t hang on to power yet,” Vander said. “You’re still learning. And you don’t want to kill. Intention is a big part of magic. But you stole the merman’s gifts for a time. You’ll get better. And with some practice, your own gifts will grow stronger.”

He sounded so confident. I shook my head, the merman’s waxy, bloodless features flashing in my memory. “I don’t have any other gifts,” I said.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Lorcan said. “Vander says you saw his ward in the Wendlewood. And you saw magic in the witch’s eyes in the dungeon.”

“What does that mean?” I asked. “Can’t everyone see wards?”

“No. Wards are generally invisible. That’s part of what makes them so powerful. The ability to see them is a rare gift among the witches. The same is true for magic. You did a poor job of hiding your reaction to the witch in the dungeon. Rasimir noticed. In the future, only show him what you want him to see.”

My mind raced, the possibility of more gruesome encounters making my stomach churn. “What if I can’t keep the powers I take? Rasimir will kill me.” My gaze fell on Lorcan’s fingers around my knee.

He followed my stare. Then he stood, an odd look in his eyes there and quickly hidden. “There’s a reason Rasimir wants us to marry.”

Vander stirred, drawing my attention. “Your father is hedging his bets. If you can’t pass on power to him, perhaps you’ll pass it on to your children. The Drachvi are a unique breed of vampires with their own magic.”

“Were unique,” Lorcan said, bitterness in his voice. “My people die a little more each day.”

Vander sat up straighter, his jaw set. “They haven’t died out yet. And you’re still here, despite your determination to court danger at every opportunity.”

Lorcan narrowed his eyes, but he stayed silent, one hand resting on his dragonstone pommel.

Vander turned to me. “I tolerate the sun better than a natural-born vampire, but you saw how it burned me in Ghedda. You’re a daywalker. Imagine an army of vampires who can walk in the sun. Not even the Feyline could contain them.”

Anger and revulsion pumped hot in my veins. “Rasimir will have to kill me. I won’t spend my days in a birthing bed, churning out soldiers for his nightmare army.”

A warning gleamed in Lorcan’s eyes. “If you’re capable of giving him what he wants, he won’t kill you. And don’t think for a second he’ll allow you to take your own life.”

“I won’t be a slave,” I said, outrage driving me to my feet.

“Good,” Lorcan said simply. “That’s what Vander and I hoped for.”

I looked sharply at Vander. “What do you mean? What are you planning?”

He stood, his silver stare unflinching. “Rasimir intends to use you one way or another. You’re young. He wants your powers to mature. That’s why he ordered us to tell you the truth about your heritage. And while he’s not happy about the witches and werewolves stepping up their attacks, he’s just fine with you knowing you’re their target.”

“He wants you frightened,” Lorcan said. “He’s counting on you being too afraid to ever think of challenging him. And you should be afraid, Corinthe. The three of us play a dangerous game.”

“What kind of game?” They’d pummeled me with so much information, I might never sort it all out.

“Deception,” Lorcan said. “Rasimir is too unstable to train you himself. Fortunately, he knows it. That leaves Vander and me to help you find your magic. He likes to create conflict between us, and we’ve gone to great lengths to foster his impression that we despise each other. That’s the reason he ordered us to take you from the Drakhold together. He wants us to spy on each other and report back to him.” Lorcan glanced around the garden. “As long as we’re careful, we can train here and help you get stronger. But Rasimir can never suspect you want to overthrow him. He needs to think I’m jealous of you supplanting me, and he needs to continue believing Vander is a mindless oaf who does what he’s told.”

Vander’s nostrils flared. “He doesn’t think that.”

Lorcan stared at him, his arrogant expression in place.

“He doesn’t think that.”

I barely heard their exchange as my new reality crashed over me. I could either let Rasimir crush me under his heel, or kill him and seize his throne. But I didn’t want his throne. I didn’t want to rule Nocta. I didn’t want to rule anything. And yet Lorcan spoke of training me like I was fully on board with his and Vander’s plan.

On the other hand, what choice did I have? Rasimir thought I was some fabled key to unlimited power. He wouldn’t tolerate me politely declining to serve as a conduit for magical gifts—or a vampire army stocked with my offspring. Escape couldn’t be my goal because escape wasn’t possible. Rasimir was never, under any circumstances, going to let me go. And if I managed to flee by some miracle of the gods, he would continue killing. More Alons would die. More Duncans. Other Delphines would shiver in fear, their eyes darting to the shadows as they praised the king. Pixies would stammer apologies on the road because their friends dared to insult the king’s knights and, by extension, the king.

All of Nocta serves the king. But the king was a tyrant. He was a cold-blooded killer, and he was completely, hopelessly mad. And if Vander and Lorcan were right, I could stop him. As implausible as it sounded, I was the only person who could stop him.

It couldn’t be true. But what if it was? My throat dried, my thoughts spinning faster. Rasimir wanted me. He’d gone to great lengths to find me. I could see wards…and magic. What else could I do?

“…take issue with ‘mindless,’ ” Vander was saying on one side of me.