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“Yes, well, she asked about it,” Caelum said, jabbing the finger of his other hand in my direction. “And we’d probably have those prototypes already, if not for you.”
“Me?” I recoiled, surprised at the sudden vehemence aimed in my direction. “I have nothing to do with the prototype’s delay,” I protested, which was true. The blame for that rested with Vinicius. His cruel display of power by choosing to use the aether cannon to blow up the hidden temple had forced Eliza to reconsider the wisdom of putting such a powerful weapon in vampire hands, and she’d fudged reasons to delay it, citing mechanical flaws that needed to be shored up.
“Oh, leave the poor girl alone, Caelum,” Viviana said. “It’s not her fault her master is smitten with her. If anyone is to blame, it’s Maximillian.” She crooked a finger at a servant standing a few yards away beckoning him to come closer. “Now let’s get you another drink. You need to relax.”
“And you shouldn’t drink so much,” Caelum snapped as Viviana plucked two glasses of bloodwine from the servant’s tray. “The last thing we need is for you to have an episode in the middle of the summit.”
Viviana stiffened, all traces of amusement vanishing from her face. “My ‘episodes’, as you call them, have nothing to do with what I do or do not consume,” she said. “Besides, they’re the reason the emperor values me more highly than you, anyway.”
Caelum laughed. “You, more valuable than me? Please. When the emperor gives you command of fifty thousand men and sends you off to battle an army of witches and pirates, you cancome back and tell me you’re the more valuable one. Now put that down,” he scolded, trying to take Viviana’s glass from her.
The female Stellaris twin scowled, holding the drink out of reach, but her expression shifted to something feline. “Well, if I’m not allowed to drink this, then what about our new friend?” she purred, locking eyes with me. “After all, I’d hate for this to go to waste.”
Caelum’s eyebrows rose as Viviana held the glass out to me, and my breath stuttered in my throat. “N-no thank you,” I said, fighting against the urge to physically lean away. “Blood isn’t really my thing.”
“Is that so?” Viviana pushed the wine glass in my face, until the rim was directly beneath my nose, nearly touching my lips. The scent of the sanguine beverage teased my senses—a complex, rich aroma with a metallic tang that spoke of dark fruits and a hint of smoke. My mouth began to water, and I locked down every one of my muscles—this time to keep from leaning in, rather than leaning away.
“You’re about to become one of us,” Viviana said, her black eyes gleaming. “No longer Catherine Seabream, but Catherine Starclaw, a mistress of the dark. Don’t you think blood is a taste you ought to acquire?”
I opened my mouth to answer, and Viviana tipped the glass forward, closing that millimeter of distance. The bloodwine flowed across my tongue, and I gasped at the burst of flavors—a copper tang overlaid by the fruity richness of the wine, interlaced with a hint of oak. Before I could stop myself, I snatched the glass from Viviana and drained it, my greedy tongue swiping along the rim.
I lowered the glass to see Caelum and Viviana staring at me with a mix of shock and fascination. Horror curdled in my gut when I realized what I’d done, followed by a sudden shift deep within my being. Something dark began to stir in my veins, my gums and fingernails aching, my skin suddenly too tight across my bones.
“How unexpected,” Caelum remarked. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say she enjoyed that.”
“She most certainly did.” Viviana’s eyes were glued to the empty glass in my hand, and I thought I glimpsed a look of satisfaction on her face. “Do you feel—”
I clapped a hand over my mouth as that darkness surged inside me, and the twins stopped talking. “Please excuse me,” I said around my hand as sweat broke out across my forehead. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
And without another word, I bolted.
25
Casimir
Casimir watched from beneath the boughs of an ironbark tree as Catherine sprinted away from the Stellaris twins. He’d been listening to her exchange with Caelum and Viviana, more interested in the human thrall’s reactions to the twins' antics than he was in what the siblings themselves had to say. He’d known them both for decades, and nothing much they did or said surprised him anymore, including when Viviana had offered Catherine the bloodwine.
But what did interest him was the way the human thrall had downed the entire glass with the gusto of a vampire fledgling, then bolted from the table as though she was going to be sick. As she disappeared into the foliage, he felt that tug in his chest—the one that always appeared whenever he saw her—intensify, and he took a step forward without thinking.
“Your Highness?” the simpering courtier who had been talking his ear off asked.
“Later.” He waved off the noble—a lower scion from his own house who undoubtedly wanted a favor, and followed Catherine away from center of the greenhouse and into the western section, which was peppered with tall, potted fronds and thickets, designed for guests looking for a little privacy.
It wouldn’t do for Maximillian’s pet to run into a trysting pair. Proclamation or not, she could still end up getting hurt, and then his father would have to punish someone, which could cause yet more inter-house conflict. Casimir was nothing if not a pragmatist—these situations were best avoided if one wanted to keep the precarious balance between the four houses from collapsing.
To be honest, Casimir wasn’t sure how his father had kept the houses together for this long, never mind unite them in the first place. The feuds between some of them were long and bloody—especially Sanguis Noctis and Psychoros. During the Chaos War, the Psychoros vampires were the first to come to their senses, rising out of the collective fog of bloodlust that had descended upon the Nightforged to see their former alliances in shambles around them. They had been the first to reach out to the other two realms and offer an alliance, in exchange for help from the humans in the form of voluntary blood donations in order to keep the bloodlust at bay, and from the witches in terms of magical interventions. House Stellaris had followed suit shortly after, and with half of the vampire realm turned against them, Houses Invictus and Sanguis Noctis had been forced to surrender. When the witches had drawn up the Midnight Accords, Psychoros and Stellaris had been exempted from many of the sanctions, while Sanguis Noctis had been given the harshest. And the blood mage vampires had never forgiven them for it.
Casimir could see both sides—on the one hand, the sanctions had been extremely unfair, and had practically beggared their realm. But he was not too proud to admit the Nightforged had been unhinged and out of control, and that their bloodlust would have probably been their own downfall if left unchecked. This new regime his father oversaw, where the use of human blood and slaves was regulated, was far better. It ensured there was a proper allocation of resources, and that the Nightforged could continue to sustain their supply of humans even without the sun.
It took a minute for Casimir to catch up with Catherine—she moved far faster than any human, even a thrall, had the right to—but he found her on her hands and knees in a cluster of bushes, throwing up. Her petite form shook as she wretched and heaved, and Casimir found himself annoyed at her foolishness. She had probably downed that glass in one go to show Viviana up, and it had been too much for her tiny body to handle.
Her entire body suddenly grew still, and Casimir knew she had sensed him. “What do you want?” she said in a thick voice, not turning around.
Casimir frowned. Was she really going to continue to give him her back like that? “I told you not to wander around alone,” he said, taking a step forward.
“I’m not wandering,” she snapped, shifting away from him. Casimir could see the pool of blood on the ground, mixed with bits of food from her midday meal. “I just needed to be sick somewhere in private. Now leave me alone.”
The vehemence in her tone, which Casimir was unused to having directed at him by anyone other than his father, riled something inside him, and he closed the distance between before he could think better of it. “You impudent little wench,” he snarled,grasping her underarm and hauling her around. “Maximillian clearly never taught you—”
