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He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to escape her.

Fucking elf better be worth all this trouble, he thought acidly.

At last, Lucan reached the group of vampires clustered around the middle holding cell. Senna stood obediently by the cell door with the key in hand, a rigid look on his face, daring anyone to try and pocket the dull, brass metal. Anileta stood next to a tall, blonde-haired vampire Lucan could not place. At her feet simpered her thrall. The wretched thing followed her like a dog; Lucan always wished to kick it until it never rose. Gods, the woman was ostentatious.

“Well, my prince,” said the jailkeeper, a squat and rather ugly man who was once Lucan’s riding instructor as a child, “here she is. Sweet face on that one, if you fancy those elves. Always thought them a bit too thin.”

“I insisted on holding the key, sir,” Senna said quietly as Lucan approached. The shorter vampire threw his head back slightly toward Anileta and the newcomer, talking as if they were reunited lovers.

“Let’s get this over with, then,” Lucan said. The jailer smiled, fangs flashing in the moonlight.

Lucan sipped from his bloodwine while the jailer and Senna prepared the interrogation room. Chains scraped and dragged over stone. Somewhere in the distance, wet gurgles and screams sounded out as another prisoner no doubt became a plaything for one of his court. Once, long ago, Lucan had tried to maintain order. No harming the prisoners beyond interrogation turned into no feeding from the prisoners, and now, he only asked to speak with them first before fangs and claws descended from the shadows.

He used to care.

Now, he rather enjoyed the symphony of pain his brethren coaxed from the moon elves and their human allies.

The door to the interrogation chamber opened. Senna poked his head in, a wide smile on his face.

“She’s awake just in time for you, my prince.”

She. Lucan wasn’t particularly fond of that word right now. He ground his teeth and walked into the room.

The first thing he noticed was not the prisoner, but Anileta now standing perilously close to Aurelion’s lackey, her black hair spilling over his cream-colored robes. Lucan knew to expect games and powerplays over the long years of his rule, but what angle Anileta came from, he was not yet certain.

Turning his attention away from the traitorous countess, Lucan surveyed the prisoner. She was, he thought, quite far from beautiful for an elf. Her eyes were too close, her mouth much too small for his cock, and her lilac hair wild and full of curls. Nothing like…

Elarian.

Lucan slammed his fist on the table. The prisoner jumped, eyes darting to his face as her lips silently moved. He had every intention of making this as short as possible.

“Where did you come from?” His voice boomed through the room.

Shadows writhed over his forearm, slowly reaching for the violet-eyed elf. The elf quaked in her seat but made no move to answer. Lucan sighed, then leaned closer.

“It is a simple question with a simple answer. North, east, south, or west. You don’t even have to say it. Just nod your head in the direction.”

“The poor thing is barely conscious, my prince,” Anileta purred as she sidled up next to him. Her hands reached for his shoulders, then pulled back at the last moment. “Aren’t you, pup? Thane is never gentle, I know.”

Thane.

So this was one of her captures; yet, despite her hunter’s impressive numbers, they had failed to learn the source of the moon elves’ crossing. Fucking useless.

“Your poor thing can answer the fucking question before I carve it from her. Where are you crossing the Evermist?”

The elf opened her mouth. No sound came; only a steady dribble of blood.

“See? She can’t even speak.”

Lucan spun to the side, his shadow-hand already at Anileta’s throat.

“You would do best to shut your meddling mouth, countess,” Lucan hissed.

“My prince.” The pale-haired vampire from Aurelion’s court stepped forward. He placed a hand on Anileta’s shoulder and drew her backward. “I must insist you leave her unharmed for the master. She has been summoned.”

Anileta ducked her head meekly. Lucan flared his nostrils but did not reply. He had little intention of her making it to the Bloodlord’s Court without ensuring she remembered her failures. Instead, he turned his gaze back to the elf. She lifted her chin.

Defiance flared in her eyes.