She bit her lip, her face pale with worry. "Will you stay with me until the match?"
To join her in that bed and spend a lazy day talking, touching . . . ? But he couldn't. "I have much to do." He would deny himself in the coming hours, then reap the rewards later. An eternity of lazy days. If I live. "Should I fail tonight, it won't be from lack of preparation."
"You won't try to sleep?"
"My Bride cares for my well-being?"
She quietly said, "You know I do."
A victory! His plan was working. Optimism filled him. "No male could be more motivated to live." He cupped her nape. "If you're within reach, I won't go down easily, if at all. Know that, Bettina." With a final lingering kiss, Trehan forced himself to trace away.
Back in his tent, he replayed all he'd learned over the night. One thing stood out-her insistence that she couldn't move past Caspion's death.
Survive Gourlav; kill Caspion; lose Bettina? There had to be some way out of this bind.
Suddenly, the tents flaps flew open and Morgana sauntered inside.
"What do you want?"
"Yes, yes, you're welcome for my assistance with my winsome goddaughter. By the way, the 'tour' was all my doing." She sat on his desk, much as Bettina had. Now it irritated him. "I've come because I want to know how you reached the air territories."
"I have ways. What concern is it of yours?"
"Great concern. One of my Sorceri subjects is likely being held against her will in Skye Hall. She was rumored to have been taken there directly after she escaped from a group of humans who imprison and experiment upon Loreans. Needless to say, she's having a bad run of it. So I'll ask you once more. How did you get to the air territories?"
He decided to take another page from Lothaire's playbook. "I expect I'll need more assistance with Bettina in the future. Perhaps we'll bargain in the days to come."
Behind her mask, she looked intrigued. "And if you die tonight?"
He didn't think this sorceress could affect the outcome of the match, but he might as well motivate her, just in case. "If I die, my secret dies with me."
Light danced in her palms, sorcery at the ready. But she didn't strike out against him. "You're very fortunate that I need something from you, Prince of Shadow." She turned to leave. At the exit, she said over her shoulder, "Should you live, we'll speak soon."
Alone once more, he reviewed what he needed for his match. But he was as prepared as possible-or he would be if Honorius came through.
Trehan considered trying to sleep; yet no matter how fatigued he was, his mind wouldn't rest. Would his problems only begin if he defeated Gourlav?
Some way out of this bind . . .
His gaze landed on the contract scroll, the one with all the rules. The one that was at least a foot in diameter. He already knew it'd been written in old Demonish.
It would take a normal scholar weeks to read through, much less translate. Luckily, I'm no normal scholar. With a weary exhalation, he set to his task.
The things I do for my Bride.
"What are the odds?" Bettina asked Salem, gnawing a nail.
It was late in the afternoon. Morgana and her Inferi had long since come and gone, leaving Bettina cosmeticized, masked, and formally dressed.
She'd been unable to sleep today, lightly dozing and then shooting awake with nerves. Though the vampire had made no mention of returning before the fight, she'd thought he might drop by or send a message.
Nothing.
"Bookies are laying three-fifty to one."
"Three hundred and fifty?" She pinched her forehead.
"Yeah, you'd basically have to have inside info to take on those odds," Salem said. "If someone-not me or you, of course, but someone-had spent the night wiv one of the competitors and gleaned intel, then someone-of course not me or you-could clean up."
"The only thing I know is that the vampire is highly motivated." And that he'd been exhausted. What if he still hadn't slept? What if it did finally affect his fighting? "Did you uncover any of Gourlav's weaknesses?"
"None. Just heard horror stories about Child Terrors. I don't suppose Abaddon's defenses include anything atomic?"
She shook her head. "Will you come with me to watch the fight?"
"A domestic at the grand table?" Salem sounded amused.
"Come on, it's not like anyone will see you."
Silence.
Bettina realized that she'd offended him, and she hadn't meant to. How could he not be sensitive about his circumstances? During this tournament, he'd become much more to her than a servant, and now she'd hurt him. "Salem, I'm sorry."
"Princess, I might be invisible now, but I used to be a sight to behold, a regular vision, wiv a swagger you had to see to believe. This corporeally challenged domestic is declining your invite."
When he shimmered away, she attacked her regrown nail. She'd fix this with him in the future. Right now, all she could think about was her vampire.
My vampire.
Maybe his blooding was doing a number on her own sense of possessiveness. Maybe after last night, she was helpless not to picture herself with him.
But even as worry for him besieged her, she recognized that she wasn't yet ready to surrender completely to him.
And he did want her to surrender. Tell me you'll let me do anything to you. Tell me you're mine-