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“Yes.” She nodded at a French door off the living room. “You can access the garden through there.”
The door’s glass was darkened to protect a vampire’s sensitive eyes and skin. But still, it was a window.
I peered through the bedroom doorway at the king-size canopy bed. “Where does Brien sleep?”
Kerry’s thin lips pursed. “If the prince wants you to know, he’ll tell you.”
Oh-kay.Apparently, I wasn’t going to find a friend in Kerry.
A man appeared with my two suitcases, and she directed him to put them in the bedroom closet. She waited for him to leave, then told me, “Someone will come for you this afternoon to take you for a walk. Are you hungry? I can order you breakfast.”
“No, thanks. I think I’ll just lie down for a while. I’d like lunch around one, though,” I added, testing her.
“As you wish. The floors are heated for the thralls. It’s set on low, but feel free to adjust it. The thermostat’s next to the intercom.” She indicated the box on the wall next to the door. “If you need anything, use the intercom. Push 2 for me, and 3 for the kitchen.”
Apparently, I was to be treated like a guest…or a prisoner in a velvet cage. I could work with that.
“Come to the door,” she told me. “I’ll add you to the people allowed access to this suite.”
I obeyed, and she added my fingerprint to the biometric recognition pad.
“You’re in,” she said. “If I were you, I’d lock the door at all times. Only Brien and a few of his most trusted people have access to this suite.”
My spine tingled. Again, that hint of a warning, that something was wrong at the castle.
“I will,” I promised.
She gave a tiny nod and left. I locked the door behind her and slipped off my shoes. The paper was burning such a hole in my pocket now, I was surprised my pants weren’t smoking.
I padded into the bathroom. The suite didn’t appear to have any video cams, but just in case, as I slid off my pants, I palmed the piece of paper and unfolded it, glancing at it sidelong.
Two words—Prince Perfect—with a rough picture of a dagger through their center.
It took me a few seconds to take it in. Then it hit me.
Kuro wanted me to slay Brien, not Jules.
It was the only possible interpretation. Hell, I’d coined the term “Prince Perfect” myself.
A sick sensation clogged my throat. I risked a second, longer look, but the message hadn’t changed. I crumpled the paper in my hand.
Robot-like, I finished undressing and lowered myself onto the toilet seat. I peed. Flushed the slip of paper along with the toilet paper. Got into the shower.
No.
My throat closed, my breath coming in jagged gasps.
Not Brien.
It didn’t make sense. If anyone in the castle needed to be put out of their misery, it was his father.
I shampooed my hair, digging my fingers into my scalp to ground myself.
Not Brien.
I can’t.
The sob erupted from that deep, lonely part of me. I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, gulping oxygen as the shower rained down on my head.
