Shadow's Claim

"You don't have a choice."

"And why's that?"

Viktor rolled his eyes. "Because you're a slave to your duty, to your house."

Over the last millennium, Trehan had sacrificed everything for the good of Dacia. For once in his life, would he have what he desired? "What if I . . . wasn't?"

Viktor backed away, unsure what to do with that. "Perfect, selfless Trehan Daciano entertains selfish thoughts? This I must explore. Truce for one eve?"

Trehan exhaled. "Pour the mead." Once he cautiously sheathed his sword, Viktor did as well.

"Tell me about her." Viktor traced to the sideboard, selecting a crystal decanter filled with mead-laced blood.

"She's young. Lovely." Talented, creative, innately sensual. With the sweetest skin I've ever imagined.

"How young?" Viktor handed him a glass topped off with crimson.

After a hesitation, Trehan said, "Kosmina's age." Mirceo and Kosmina were so much younger than the elder cousins that they called each one "uncle."

Viktor's lips parted. "You're jesting."

"Not at all." He took a drink, but found the blood tasteless. Again he wondered what Bettina's would be like.

Observant Viktor narrowed his eyes. "Did you bite her?"

Came so close. He recalled how his fangs had ached to pierce her-completely beyond his control. Like an ungovernable erection.

Would he be able to stop himself from tasting her blood if given a second chance? How did other Dacian males keep themselves in check?

Is something . . . wrong with me?

"You did!" Viktor raised his glass. "How very deviant of you, Trey! Did you mark her skin? Did you take her memories into you?"

"Don't be absurd." One of the reasons Dacians disavowed drinking from the flesh was because of the cosaşad-the ability to read memories through blood. When a cosaş took blood directly from the flesh, he took his prey's memories into his own consciousness, even from the merest drop on the tongue. The coldly rational Dacians believed this to be a pollution, an intrusion into their pure minds.

If I'd taken Bettina's memories, what would I have witnessed? Probably scenes of her lusting after Caspion. Trehan just stopped himself from crushing his goblet.

"Thinking about it even now?" Viktor said. "I can't believe you used your fangs on her-Trehan the Perfect is actually perverse!"

"I didn't bite her." He glanced up. "You look disappointed. So eager to see me fall?"

"But you wanted to."

Will fantasize about it for the rest of my life. "If I did, I'd never admit anything so shaming to you."

Viktor gazed away. "You might have once." He took a deep drink. "Back to the matter at hand. What are your options with the girl?"

"Kill Caspion. Forget her and move on." As he said the words, they burned like a lie. Forgetting her wasn't an option. Could he possibly move on?

There were so many questions surrounding her, so much to discover. He felt as if he'd read the first page of the most absorbing book he'd ever opened, only to have it slammed shut. "Second option: kill Caspion, find a way to steal the girl's medallion, then abduct her." Would she truly hate Trehan forever? Surely in a few decades she'd get over her displeasure.

Viktor shook his head decisively. "Morgana's magics won't be circumvented, not even by the likes of you. We have no spellcaster to aid you, much less one who could take her on. Logically, you know stealing the medallion isn't an option. A campaign like that would be doomed to fail." He lowered his drink, growing very serious about the topic.

This could be because Viktor had identified an enemy in Morgana, one who was thwarting the desires of a fellow Dacian. Or perhaps he was sensing imminent violence and hoping for a part of it. Maybe Viktor wanted to help because he sought to damage Trehan's chances at the throne.

Likely all three motives.

For a brief moment, Trehan considered that Viktor might be moved to help because once, long, long ago, they had been friends. Then he dismissed the idea. They had too much history between them.

Trehan said, "I'd contemplated appealing to her godparents before the tournament begins. But how exactly would I present my case? Should I say, 'I can't tell you who I am, what royal line I descend from, where I hail from, or what my properties used to be. But give me your ward anyway'?"

"What about stealing her after the tournament-but before the full-moon wedding?"

"Back to the summoning medallion. Whoever wins it will control her movements."

"If you entered, you'd have to leave the mist? To be seen by all?"

Trehan just stifled a shudder. "Yes. By all."

"You'd be banished-and then I wouldn't have to kill you," Viktor said smugly. "At least not pressingly."

Trehan gave him the look that comment deserved.

"Just think, you'd be king of one realm at least."

"That's actually a negative for me. Ruling a rainy, backwoods swamp plane filled with Deathly Ones? What do I know about ruling demons? Or about rain, for that matter?" He waved to indicate Dacia's stone sky. "And why would they accept a nameless vampire to govern them? Clearly, the tournament is not an option. I could never turn my back on my kingdom and abandon my house, not when the Dacians need a king."

"There's another who could rule us."