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“The thought of a notturno walking into my court and exiting like a wind without arousing any suspicion is troubling. The only saving grace is that if nobody knows, I have no need to retaliate. Besides, your memories tell me he didn’t know you were there. You did well to watch him and walk away to inform the commander.”
My heart starts to dance. That’s not what happened. Oh my fates, this vampire is powerful to have been able to hide this from my brother. “Don’t read me, please. I’ll tell you.”
“I only glimpsed. It wasn’t invasive, I promise, and I wouldn’t have had I not considered you compromised.”
Maybe a glimpse means he didn’t see everything. Maybe I should tell him. Let him see everything, invite him into my head. And yet I can’t. It’s as if Nottuza is my dirty, awful secret, a male nobody needs to know about.
“You said he walked away from you,” Et’enne says.
“Mmhm.”
“Do you think he’ll come back?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I think he took what he needed.”
“But will he return anyway?”
“Why would he?”
“For you, Fleur. Do you think he’ll return for you?”
I shake my head again. I don’t think he will.
10
NOTTUZA
Empty bellies rush toward food faster than full ones, desperation often a great motivator. My males are no different. Nothing’s quite as motivating for them as the promise of a hearty meal after centuries of hunger.
My warlords, Ledger and Leroy, separate from me first and lead the rest of the males I released on their advice. They picked them, not me. I don’t know any of them, but if they do, it’s good enough for me.
My warlords should’ve slept with me and awoken with me. Instead, a dispute between vampire houses led a vampire to awaken the pair of them before our time. Because undead magic wasn’t conceived of yet, my males suffered centuries of weakness and imprisonment in the dungeons of the Summer Court.
Now they’re free and hunting in the backwoods of the Winter Court, uncovering the fae who fled the Unseelie king’s vengeance after they conspired against him, and by default almost prevented the conception of undead magic.
Fairies scream silently as my males gorge on their blood and absorb their magic.
Not even the most powerful fairies can defend themselves when we hunt in this way. The way my old horde hunted once inside a large settlement, using both our speed and strength.
To prevent either panic or rising voices, we enter the homes in pairs and drink quickly in one fell swoop. This way, we cover a lot of ground, and my warlords will recover more quickly if allowed to gorge on both the blood and the magic of the living.
Thinking about how two of the most powerful notturnos in existence spent centuries or maybe more imprisoned and rotting in fairy dungeons while their vampire brethren played dungeon masters next door and even carried out their meals and executions at the same time makes me want to return to the Summer Court and burn it down.
They’re lucky I’ve taken a fancy to the Summer princess and wouldn’t want her inconvenienced, even though she would happily leave my males rotting for a few more centuries at the very least.
They went without food for cycles at a time. Ledger, my fiercest lord, had turned into nothing but a skeleton. They might’ve even forgotten he existed down there. It’s a miracle the brothers survived.
Like a proud daddy, I stroll down the moonlit cobblestone street, whistling my old military tune, enjoying the sounds of my males gobbling down meals as they zip between fae homes in this small town. And then I spy a tailor shop.
This is no ordinary tailor shop, though. In the window display is a military uniform.
Ledger rushes out of a house, some flesh already forming over the left side of his face. He offers me a fae male hanging limply over his shoulder. “You want?”
I wave him away. I haven’t had much of an appetite since the delicious female meal I consumed in the Summer Court’s gardens.
Ledger drops the male. “Did you eat at the Summer Court?”
I nod.
