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“Finley,” I whisper, my soul unraveling a little. “I don’t know how this has happened, but as much as you yearn for me, my need for you is even greater.”
Because you dragged me out of the cold and convinced me that I’m not doomed to become a monster. You made me feel normal again.
“Dryad or not, I couldn’t care less. I’d be desperate for you regardless.”
She lets out a slow, shuddering exhalation. I feel her through her winter layers; filled with nervous energy, trembling slightly.
But not resisting me.
Not hostile.
I watch the valley below, my attention drawn to the grounds around my castle, just outside the eastern wall. A squadron of my men are there, hurling missiles of burning pitch at some unseen enemy beyond the treeline of the forest.
It’s a good thing those pines won’t burn in winter. Not with all the snow around.
I think I can guess as towhatthey’re fighting. The stench of corruption and decay is unmistakable.
Why am I not surprised that the lone undead creature I found was a harbinger of an entire fucking horde?
I gesture toward the valley; toward the imposing walls of Tyron Castle and the faint outline of Sanzar’s peaked roofs in the distance. “All of this will be yours, Finley. You’ll be magnificent as the Archduchess of Tyron.” I gently wrap my fingers around her neck, stroking her gently, feeling insanely protective. I turn her head slightly until my lips are brushing against her ear. “And it may be possible… I don’t know, but I hope against hope that we might have the chance to build something together. Even… afamily.”
I can hear the rapid patter of her heartbeat. I can smell her arousal through along with the crispness of the snow and the winter wind.
“I would welcome that, Corvan,” she whispers, seeking my hand, twining her fingers though mine. She’s warm and delicate. I can’t get enough of her touch. “I would just ask that you give me time.”
“I will. As much as I can.” In the far distance, a body falls onto the snow, decapitated.Although that might not always be possible.
Where the first undead came from, there are more.Manymore. And they’re attacking.
My castle is under siege. It’s a declaration of war.
It was inevitable, I suppose.
Whoever’s behind this is going to pay. I’ll force them to reveal themselves, then I’ll crush them.
I take her into my arms. “Are you ready to go?”
She puts her arms around my neck. “Yes, Corvan. I am. But why do I have this feeling of unease, like the world’s about to throw us into hell itself?”
“Because you’re clever, and you’ve heard of it—seenit—time and time again. We Rahavans are always fighting. I expect a challenge sooner or later. My father’s growing old, and soon there will be a vacuum of power in the capital. My brother… when he takes the throne, I don’t know what kind of ruler he’ll be. Maybe he’s matured. Maybe he hasn’t. I expect others may try to sabotage his power.” I chuckle softly. “I have quite a few ambitious relatives.”
And my half-brother, Ansar, the Archduke of Kilivel, is one of them. He might be Valdon Duthriss’s son, but he’s also consort Leticia Talavarra’s firstborn. If Ansar’s learned anything at all, he’ll be trying to seize power in whatever way he can.
In addition to being the emperor’s son, through his mother he’s a descendant of one of the most powerful families in Rahava—the Talavarras.
It’s a significant advantage to hold.
Ansar has the full weight of the Talavarras behind him. As soon as my father shows the first sign of weakness, they’ll make their move.
If I were a betting man, I'd wager half my fortune that Ansar and the Talavarras are connected to these attacks on my castle. A ploy is afoot. They're trying to weaken me; distract me. I've already renounced my claim to the throne, but I know that many in the court still feel threatened by my existence.
After all, they think I'm mad.
I could return to Lukiria at any time, right? I could change my mind... and father would embrace me.
They can't have that.
What a boon it would be for them to have one of their own as emperor. The Talavarras crave power as much as I crave blood.
