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So he knows.
My thoughts must be a little obvious, because Ansar chuckles softly. “Brother, I cansenseit.”
“So you want me gone,” I say quietly, “so you can sit on the emperor’s throne? Then how are you any different from me?”
He extends his arms so his forearms are facing upwards. Then he pushes back the long sleeves of his robes to reveal even morePerigianwriting. But these aren’t simply inked into his skin. They’re branded. “Unlike you, who’s been giftedeverything, I’ve had to work for my power. You have no idea what I’ve been through—what I’vesacrificed—just so I can grow strong enough to match you. AndstillI can’t, because in the end, you mowed down all my undead armies. Do you think you’re bloody Hecoa’s reaper, or something?”
I say nothing. It’s obvious that my little brother harbors more than a few ill-founded misconceptions about me. All lies fed to him by his mother and grandfather, no doubt. They would have fostered and nurtured this enmity; this twisted rivalry.
He’s as much a pawn as I was.
Goddess’s curses.Ireallyshould kill him.
But part of me can’t help but feel that there’s a lot more to this than what I see on the surface.
“Rhaegar Talavarra, show yourself,” I growl, staring at the opaque curtains. “There’s no point in trying to hide from me. You as well, Leticia.”
Why do I somehow feel like a schoolmaster, catching the bad behavior of a group of wayward youths?
Ansar lets out a disdainful snort. “I told you he would know you’re here, grandpa. He’s a monster.”
I shoot my half-brother a dark look.Speak for yourself.
The curtain slides back. Rhaegar Talavarra and his eldest daughter, Leticia, appear from the shadows.
The head of the Talavarra family can’t disguise his hatred of me. It’s in his hard gaze. It’s in the tight line of his mouth; in the way his grey-speckled brows draw together. Once a large, formidable man, much of his bulk has given way to loose skin and bones, and his dark hair has turned grey and wispy.
Still, he carries an air of authority about him.
Leticia follows him. She’s inherited her father’s tall stature and dark eyes, but her hair is the color of autumn—deep burgundy.
In contrast with the all ornate trappings of this room, she’s dressed simply—in a flowing cream-hued gown that gives the impression of purity and innocence.
A stark contrast to the vile stench of death that permeates this entire place.
She regards me coldly, her regal features expressionless. Leticia Talavarra is a beauty. The lines of age have barely touched her. There was always a great question mark as to why father never warmed to her in the way that he’d been obsessed with my mother.
Maybe Leticia’s only mistake was being born human. My father wanted a goddess, not a wife.
A dozen questions linger in my mind, but I don’t have the time nor the interest to pursue them.
Nor do I care for introductions, or any more self-indulgent waffling on.
I get straight to the point.
I’m impatient. And the longer I’m away from Finley, the more impatient I get.
“Where’s the dryad?” I lock eyes with Rhaegar.
“She’s in Ansar’s hands,” the old duke says simply, not missing a beat. “As is your betrothed.”
What?
My mind goes blank, my thoughts incinerated by white-hot fire. In less time than it takes for a mortal heart to beat, I’ve drawn my sword and moved to Rhaegar’s side.
My blade is at his neck. I’ve already decided he’s a dead man. “If you don’t explainexactlywhat you mean by that, I’ll end you right now, Rhaegar. And if anything happens to either of them, I’ll kill your daughter and your grandson and I’ll destroy every last living branch of the Talavarra line.”
“She’s important to him,” Leticia says calmly—toocalmly. “Who would have thought? It’s as I told you, father. The firstborn Duthriss has always had this weakness. He’s too soft; too easily swayed by emotion. Nothing like Valdon. If it wasValdonwe were dealing with, we wouldn’t even get a word in. For the sake of power, he would have sacrificedmewithout a second thought. He did it to thevampyr, didn’t he?”
