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Instead, she closed her eyes for one brief moment.
“Eliyn.”
Lucan’s voice pulled her back. She opened her eyes but could not focus on his face. Just beyond, copper flashed closer: Lord Ataen. Elarian mumbled something but did not know what. Get away, perhaps, or maybe, I’m still a sharper blade than you’ll ever be. Her thoughts blurred together until there was only the steady pull of exhaustion dragging her beneath the surface.
The last thing she remembered was Ataen’s voice, quieter than before. “Be careful with her, Luc.”
When Elarian lifted her head again, she found herself back in Lucan’s chambers.
The warm, wood-paneled walls pressed inward, the now uncomfortably familiar chamber suddenly feeling far too small. Every breath scraped against her aching lungs. Iron burned against her tongue.
She sat at the edge of the bed, Lucan standing before her with a goblet of bloodwine in one hand and a crust of bread in the other. He offered them without a word. For the first time since her captivity, Elarian realized how hunger clawed at her stomach until a hollow pit had formed. Lifting the hardened crust to her lips, she tried to take a bite. It barely gave way.
“I cannot eat this,” she heard herself mumble.
“The thralls do it all the time.”
Elarian sighed, head too muddied to argue back. Wrapping her fingers around the stem of the crystal goblet, she took a sip of the bloodwine. Its heady aroma of iron, smoky oak, and sweetened fruits washed over her. She closed her eyes, shuddering as the delirium eased. Cool relief spread through the fever like rain over scorched earth. It lasted only a heartbeat before the flames returned, but it was enough for her body to remember exactly what it was that eased the pain.
Frowning, she dipped the bread into the bloodwine, then attempted another bite. This time, the hardened crust gave way, and dry crumbs of days-old bread lodged in the back of her throat. A fit of coughs wracked her body as she choked the stale bread down with another gulp of bloodwine.
“It has been centuries, but I do believe you are meant to eat food, Elarian, not inhale it.”
Pale crimson eyes flicked up and glared at Lucan. “Perhaps I could eat if I was actually given food.”
At that, Lucan smirked. He watched her struggle with the bread for another moment before stepping away. Elarian’s fingers twitched at the sight of his back. If she only had her blade…gods, what came over her yesterday?
“You did well tonight.”
The vampire holding her hostage began to undress slowly. Elarian observed how his shoulders relaxed as he removed his golden rings one by one, then slid one arm from the jacket sleeve. The silken, white hair covering his ears fell away. For a moment, she thought she saw two small letters inscribed upon his pallid skin just below his right ear. She leaned closer, curiosity piqued. Another buried wound she could uncover, perhaps?
Without ceremony, Lucan unclasped the golden bracelet linking him to her, letting it join the rest of his discarded finery. A soft rustle filled the chambers as the velvet jacket fell to the floor.
Gods, this was her chance!
If she had silver in her hand, and if fever had not been ravaging her mind until she confused control for tenderness, Elarian would surely be laughing as Lucan’s blackened blood sprayed across the room before he could lift his gaze.
Instead, she watched him, helpless while she cradled the gilt goblet like a precious remedy. She took another shameful sip of the foul bloodwine that assuaged her burning blood.
Elarian had become a godsdamned monster.
Turning with a smile like he read her thoughts, Lucan crossed the distance between them. His fingers traced the length of her long, pointed ear before sliding down to rest against the golden collar at her throat. Elarian shuddered. Behind him, she saw the faint glint of her silver dagger, still discarded like refuse under his walnut dresser. The sight curdled her stomach.
If she could just reach the edge of the bed…
“Leave it.”
Lucan tilted her head back to him. “It truly would be a waste to kill you now, Elarian.”
She said nothing.
“You walked into a room filled with creatures who would have torn you apart if they knew what you truly were.” His eyes flicked briefly to the golden collar at her throat. “You allowed them only to see exactly what I needed them to believe.”
Warmth and a feeling dangerously close to pride bloomed beneath her ribs.
“I am an assassin,” she murmured, “not an actress.”
Lucan threw his head back in mock laughter. “You have been pretending well enough for nearly a century, pet. Or do you wish to deny what happened last night?”
