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If I wore the crown, I would execute all of them. Cut the root before more poison could grow and wipe out all who dared go against the hierarchy. The south needed building up, with cities like the City of Nightmares, where vampires could become a feared, organized people once more.
“Niall!”
I blew a puff of air through my nostrils. “Why can’t you marry her? You seem cozy with her already.”
“Velda would kill her, and regardless of that, I do not wish to be married to Penelope. She is a good fuck, but she is too young, without the wit of intelligence to carry out a conversation.”
“So I must marry the woman who sleeps with my father?”
He shrugged, turning to look at the moon, hands clasped behind his back. “It will be the least of the messed-up things either of us has done. You will take her as your bride if you wish to remain here. I will not let Sanmorte fall under a war with Asland. If there were no other option, I would have taken her as my wife, but I have you.”
I balled my fists, adrenaline surging as he imposed on my will. “I will not be made to do anything I don’t want to.”
“It’s too late. We’ve all agreed on the engagement, and unless you plan on renouncing that and allowing our kingdom to descend into chaos, you have no choice.”
“I’ll fucking kill her, then she won’t be any of our problem. Accidents happen all the time.”
“Not here.” His fingers flexed. “Not in our castle, not to the royal family. Penelope is betrothed to you, and her death would be cause enough to wipe us out.”
“We should have been prepared for this! If Sargon didn’t keep us in the dark ages, brought in the right weaponry, and made deals with Baldoria, then we wouldn’t be in this position. Vampires were once the most feared of all. Baldoria doesn’t even know we can be made. They suspect, but the truth is hidden from them. Only the royal families know, so how will the King of Asland explain to his people that his daughter is a vampire without revealing their secret?”
The vein in his temple pulsed, his forehead wrinkling when he turned. Pointing a long finger at me, he snarled. “Do not think I haven’t thought of all this. As if I have not acted behind my brother’s back to build forces where I can. The king can tell his people whatever he wants because it does not matter to me if the world knows or not. That was my brother’s choice, not mine. We should be feared, and when I take his throne, all his degradation of Sanmorte will be undone.” He paused, then paced a few steps away, blocking the view of the door. “Once we have risen back to our former glory, and only then, you can destroy your princess and be free as a prince if you wish, but you will sacrifice yourself now, for us.”
“What of Velda? She will have a lot to say, I’m sure. She despises me.”
He shook his head. “She will do what is best for us, too.”
“Because she believes one day you will make her queen?”
He hesitated, mulling over my question, one I had been itching to ask for years. She had remained loyal, through all of his lovers, plots and schemes which could have gotten them killed. There had to be an ulterior motive.
“Yes,” he confirmed, and I scoffed. I knew it.
“Do you intend to keep your promise to her?”
“I do.”
I wrinkled my nose. Gwen would be a permanent resident at this castle if her mom became queen. She’d be a princess, and I’d never get rid of her. She would continue to haunt me, and I could not allow it.
“I will agree to the arrangement,” I decided, but I wasn’t doing it for him. I would discard her before we could utter the words I do; I just didn’t know how. Seraphina would be the only woman I would marry, the blood heir of the throne, and a pure immortal—the crowning jewel of prizes. “When is the wedding?”
“One month from now. In Asland.”
I rolled my eyes up, the corner of my lip twitching. “I hate that place.”
“As do I,” he agreed, whistling out a breath. “Now go downstairs and dance with your betrothed for the king to see.”
A month wasn’t long to form a plan that would work, so I had to devote my time to it. The Blood Brothers would help plan a scheme once we got the club up and running again. Then there was the grisly business of taking Sebastian out to deal with. I had planned to kill him during the harvest season. The older mortals from blood dens across Sanmorte are brought to the castle to be slaughtered in the masses to make room for newer crops. The blood lust did something to us all around that time, and with so many vampires out of control, it would be easier to pin Sebastian’s death on one of them. Aggression was heightened during feeding.
Never mind, I would need to speed things along. I watched Kalon leave, shutting the door with enough force to shake the wood. Quickly, I changed into a fresh pair of pants. I wouldn’t wear a suit. No one would make me dress up, especially not for a mortal.
***
The sounds of the Aslandian mortal’s heartbeats thrum in my ears. All mortal slaves had been taken down to the dungeons. Out of sight, out of mind. Our visitors had to know what we did here, but Sargon had tried to remove every piece of evidence, but there were still signs. The harmonious pumping of their blood mixed with the music playing from the string quartet. And if we weren’t on the brink of the wall, I’d happily sink my teeth into the King of Asland’s entourage until they weren’t dancing anymore.
Before heading to the ballroom, I’d diverted to the dungeons to feed. The thrill was stolen when I was surrounded by all the mortals in one place, whimpering, as they withdrew from our venom. Without them so easily accessible, we were forced to only feed when we needed to, rather than indulge. That meant less venom for them, and I heard the withdrawals were agony, depending on how long they’d been fed on.
Thump, thump, thump. Their hearts raced faster, and I ran my tongue over my fangs behind closed lips.
