by Tanith Frost
“I want you as my weapon,” he says. His eyes shine. “I want to learn your secrets. But don’t make the mistake of thinking I need you. You are mine, as is every vampire here. And if I—”
A knock at the outer door draws his attention.
“Don’t move.”
He puts his shirt back on, leaving it untucked as he answers. I lie on the bed, more afraid of his displeasure than I am of the humiliation I’ll face if whoever’s out there sees me lying on his bed with my tits hanging out of my dress and my skirt shoved up to my waist.
I cling to one thought—that I could still survive this and beat him. Even as Ava, even without Maelstrom’s fate on the table, I want nothing more. It’s an idea that’s worth suffering almost any indignity for. If Lachlan is weighing risks and benefits, so am I. Let him think me a coward in the moment. Let him enjoy controlling a creature whose power he’ll never understand or truly possess, as long as that keeps him from questioning me about Viktor. I’ll never be proud of this, but it will be worth it if I survive to see him destroyed someday.
Lachlan speaks quietly, then closes the door. “Get out,” he says, and finishes dressing. “I have other matters to take care of.”
I don’t ask what. I’m not going to provoke him again—not when he seems to have regained his control and composure so quickly and completely. He ties his tie and watches as I put myself back together and hurry to the door.
“Ava,” he says, and I stop with my hand on the doorknob. “You have nothing to fear as long as you give me what I want. I didn’t lie to you. You will never be my equal, but I will make you my queen.”
I nod without looking back at him. “I know.”
And I do. But I hurry away before he can pry the rest of the truth from me—that I understand how a queen could also be a slave, how having everything a vampire could want could also bring more misery than an existence filled with hardship and suffering… and how the perfect freedom he experiences is a prison in itself. Lachlan has very nearly freed himself from limits. He can take what he wants, yet he’s not satisfied.
I can’t help thinking of Daniel again as I hurry back to the relative safety of my own room. We’ve had limits imposed on our relationship since the beginning but never more than we’ve had here, and the danger of pushing past those limits has made the time we’ve stolen together intensely precious, desirable, and valuable.
Lachlan practically has the world at his feet. No one can say no to him, and so he pushes to take more for himself, never satisfied by what he has. Blood wasn’t enough for him, so he made a world where he could kill when he pleased. Killing wasn’t enough, so he devised ways to elevate the experience to new heights, planning the next high before the taste of his last kill had left his lips. It might have been enough for him once to execute enemies, but now he tortures them to insanity simply because it amuses him, or maybe to prove that no one can stop him.
Sex with a former enemy might have been enough for him when he was winning me over, but even if I became everything he wanted me to be, it would never be enough. He wouldn’t be satisfied with my pleasure. Not when he could have my reluctance and my fear.
I understand my enemy now. Not because he’s my opposite, as I would once have liked to believe, but because he’s what I could have become if things had gone differently last night in the graveyard. Same nature. Different choices.
Lachlan is a monster without limits, addicted to the misery and pain of those he controls. He’s banished other powers from his lands, leaving the void pure and intoxicating in its darkness, but stripping it of another kind of strength he can’t possibly understand. And now he’s got his sights set on Maelstrom—its vampires, its stock, its energies. He will keep taking until the world is at his feet, until he’s satisfied.
And now I’m convinced that he never will be.
24
The next night, I head down to Bethany’s workroom. I haven’t forgotten that there’s a big dance—ball, whatever they’re calling it—tonight, but I’m hoping that I can use work as an excuse for missing out on it.
It’s hard to mask my reaction when I walk in without knocking and find Daniel and Bethany together. Everything looks professional at the moment. He’s shirtless, her hands are on his chest, but it’s because she’s removed the blood-soaked bandages that now lie on the table beside him. She glances up and gives me a quick nod, then returns her attention to the healing wound beneath his ribs.
“Much better,” she says, but sounds troubled. “Whatever you’re doing, keep it up.”
Daniel lets her poke and prod without wincing, though it still looks sore. He barely seems to have noticed me. “For how long?”
I hang back in the doorway. “Should I go?”
“No, come in and close the door. And hand me a fresh roll of bandages from the cabinet in the corner.” Bethany stands and looks Daniel over, arms crossed. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you. You’ve lasted longer than anyone expected you to, and you feel stronger now than you have for a while. At least that’s something.”
Daniel pulls his white t-shirt back over his head and stands. “I don’t need any more bandages. Another hot bath, and I’ll be ready to get back to work. Maybe Lachlan will let me fly under the radar until he finds another champion he thinks can take me down.”
“Maybe.” Bethany sighs and rolls her shoulders back. “I’ll see whether I can convince him it’s a bad idea to let you become too much of a legend in everyone’s minds. Besides, he’s likely to be busy for a while. Rest while you can. Go wait for me in my room. I’ll make you something for the pain.”
Daniel turns to leave, but I don’t miss the quick look he gives me when Bethany is busy gathering her bottles of healing supplies, or the meaningful dart of his gaze toward the door to the servants’ corridor.
Bethany watches as he leaves, then gathers the used bandages and wads them into a tight ball that she throws—dunks, really—into a steel garbage can. She grabs a few bottles off her shelf and measures out the contents into a small bowl. It would seem like business as usual if not for the hard scowl on her face as she mixes and pours them into a smaller bottle that she stoppers and slips into her pocket.
“You take good care of him, don’t you?”
She glances up as if she’d forgotten I was there, though I don’t suspect that’s the case. “Of course. It doesn’t pay to get too attached around here, but Daniel has been useful to me. He deserves better treatment than what he’s been getting. If I can help him suffer less or survive longer, it’s only a benefit to me.”
There’s more there that she’s not saying, but I’m sure as hell not going to pry.
“What are we doing tonight?” I ask.
She gives me a bemused look. “There’s a certain social event…”
“I know. I sort of hoped you weren’t into that kind of thing any more than you seem to be into fights.”
“You noticed that, did you?” She settles herself in the chair by the fire and rubs her forehead as she sips from the cream-coloured china teacup that sits on the table. “I’ve stopped trying to hide my distaste for violent spectacles, but I’m still expected to be there. And though Lachlan’s given me an unthinkable amount of work to do over the next few nights, damned if I’m not expected to make an appearance at the dance.”
“Anything I can help with?”
Bethany shakes her head. “No. It’s just… logistics. Planning. Figuring out some things I shouldn’t have put off for as long as I have.” She purses her lips and looks down at her tea. “I hope they have something stronger than this available tonight.”
Whatever she’s planning must have something to do with the invasion. Of course she’s not going to trust me enough to let me in on that. Why should anything be that simple?
“I have to ask about your power,” Bethany says, a cautious note in her voice. “It’s… how does it feel to you tonight?”
I wince as if I’m embarrassed. I knew she’d feel the di
fference and planned my story before I came down. “I had a pretty intense dream today. When I woke up, the fire had risen. It’s under control now, but I still feel the effects.”
She frowns. “You dream?”
“Did I not mention that? I have since the fire came into me.”
“Interesting.” She sets her cup aside and studies me intently. There’s nothing threatening in it as when Lachlan watches me, though. “I’m concerned about the fact that the fire isn’t dying. You’re not drawing on it?”
“Not as far as I know. I’ve only been here for about a week. I imagine it will take some time for it to fade completely.”
“Of course. It only feels like you’ve been here longer.” Bethany gives me a thin smile and stands. “Now, what will you be wearing tonight?”
“There’s a dress in my room. Fancy. Long skirt. Black.”
Bethany raises her eyebrows and looks over my current head-to-toe black attire. “How shocking.”
I snort. “I know. Someone obviously wants me to stand out.”
“Right. Well, I’ll let you know if I need you for anything after I’ve made my appearance and gone back to work, but I’m sorry to say you’ll likely be free to socialize all night.” She takes me by the arm and guides me toward the door. “Try to have fun, Ava. These parties may not be my first choice of pastime when I have other things on my mind, but they’re far better than the fights. Plenty of blood, and all of the humans will be a little drunk and pleased with the food we’re offering them. Not the most exciting time to feed, but it’s pleasant. Do you like dancing?”
“Not especially. At least, I wasn’t good at it when I was alive. I don’t think I’ve tried it since I died.”
She shakes her head at me. “You did lead a dull existence in your old clan, didn’t you? You’ll find your coordination and enjoyment much improved since your death, and the music will be good.” She pulls a watch from the pocket of her dress and sighs. “We’d best get going. I have to check on something before I get to the primping phase of my evening.”
I let myself relax and take in the void that surrounds us—mine is indistinct to me, hard to differentiate because I’m so used to how it feels. Hers is a separate thing, strong and beautiful enough that it would stand out from a crowd even though I still hardly know her. Some vampires are just like that, I guess. I felt Viktor’s as a distinct entity the night I met him, but it was a far less pleasant experience. I want to pull Bethany’s over me like a blanket and hibernate in it, or maybe follow her into battle.
I won’t do either, of course. If Daniel and I—I can’t let myself think or—are successful, Bethany could very well fall with her clan. I can’t regret that or let the idea hold me back.
I do wish I hated her, though.
We separate in the hallway, and Bethany heads down the corridor toward the interrogation cells and the room where she was keeping the lightless human. I make as if I’m going upstairs, but as soon as she’s out of sight, I enter the servants’ hallway through one of the doors in the wall.
Daniel meets me by the entrance into Bethany’s workroom, then leads me to a long stretch of corridor that gives us a view in both directions.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Which way did Bethany go?” he asks in return.
“Toward the interrogation rooms. I don’t think she’ll be there long.”
He frowns. “I’ll have to get to her room before she does. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, yeah.”
His brow furrows as he looks at me. It’s as if he wants something—to ask more about what happened after I went with Lachlan last night, to touch me and assure himself I’m okay—but the expression disappears. He knows as well as I do that we have to focus on the mission and not on things neither of us can change right now. “Did you… Did Lachlan tell you anything more?”
“No. He doesn’t trust me enough for that.” I suppress the shudder that threatens when I think about his cold, controlled anger. “I managed to avoid questions, though.”
Daniel’s jaw muscles flex tight. I didn’t mean to give anything away, but I forgot how good he is at reading me.
“What about you?” I ask. “Please tell me you’ve found something.”
“I have… maybe. How much do you know about Bethany’s light experiments beyond what you told me? Did she say how many of these humans they have? And would you know another one if you saw it?”
The intensity in his gaze is throwing me off. “I, um… She didn’t. I got the impression that results have been disappointing enough that they’re taking things slowly. The experiments are in their early stages. And yeah, I think I would. I can’t feel light directly, but I’d definitely recognize that emptiness.” I shiver at the memory of the living human’s dead eyes.
“Okay.” Voices are coming from down the hall behind him. We turn together and walk in the other direction, and Daniel drops the volume of his voice to a bare whisper. “I found something that makes me think she wasn’t telling you the truth about any of that, but I need you to confirm, and I need you with me on this so we can figure out what’s happening.”
“You think the experiments have something to do with their plans for Maelstrom?”
“That’s what we need to find out. If this is a dead end, we need to look elsewhere. Something doesn’t add up, and if she’s keeping information from you, she’s got a reason for it. If she’s still working on it now, when Lachlan’s putting pressure on her to prepare for an invasion…”
We’ve reached an exit door. I don’t want to leave him. “Bethany will be at the dance tonight. Almost everyone will be.”
“You included?” he asks.
“Yes. Lachlan will notice if I don’t show up. But I’ll try to get away.”
“Good.” He reaches for my hand and squeezes it tight, brushing his thumb over the back of it before releasing me. It’s a weird gesture for him. Daniel touches for a greater purpose—for a fight, for pleasure, for communication. This moment of connection doesn’t add anything to the conversation. I think he just wanted to assure himself that I’m here. To express…
Affection.
Don’t go soft on me now, I think, but can’t help the warmth that spreads from my chest through the rest of my body.
“Meet me back here tonight if you can,” he says. “As early as possible. This could be our only chance to end whatever their plans are.”
The voices are coming closer. He opens the door for me, and I step out as he continues on to the next. I walk away quickly, heading toward my room.
No one will see us together. Hopefully by the time they realize what we’re up to, we’ll be long gone with all of the information we need.
A strong hand grasps my arm as I step onto the grand staircase. I don’t flinch, but turn quickly enough that I know I’ve given away my surprise. Randolph smiles at me.
“My lady Ava should be preparing for the ball by now.” He wrinkles his nose. “Or is that what you’re wearing?”
“Not at all. Lachlan had a dress sent up for me. I was just on my way to have a bath and get ready.” I picture the dress. It’s beautiful, with a heavy, many-layered skirt, tight on the top with sleeves that will limit my movement, but low-cut enough on the chest that I know I’ll be an object on display tonight.
Hardly what I’d choose for myself, but there’s still time.
I loop my arm through Randolph’s and let him walk me up the stairs. “I was actually thinking it could use some alterations, but I don’t have the skills I’d need to see it through.”
His eyes light up. “That sounds interesting. We’ve got a few hours before the doors open. What do you have in mind?”
I explain as we walk, and within moments, Randolph is filling in the blanks and practically begging me to let him take on the challenge. It’s not enough, though. If Lachlan asks him, I want Randolph to be certain that he talked me into this.
We enter my room, and I look over the dress hanging on th
e wardrobe. “You know, I think it’s actually fine.”
Randolph grabs the hanger and hugs the dress to his chest like a long-lost lover. “Fine is never good enough, and I refuse to pass up an opportunity to create something extraordinary. Take your bath. I shall return.”
Paige appears in the bathroom doorway after he’s gone. “Was the dress not to your liking?”
“It’s beautiful. I’m sure Lachlan won’t mind me letting Randolph work his magic, though.”
She looks uncertain but doesn’t offer questions that I’m not inviting. That’s good. And even if this little bird flies off to tell Lachlan that his new doll isn’t going to show up dressed as he wished, it will be too late for him to do anything about it. I have no doubt Randolph’s scissors will move quickly.
“It was so pretty,” she says as she helps me out of my boots.
I don’t answer.
It was pretty. And restrictive, as controlling as Lachlan himself.
It’s time for me to stop playing along.
25
“This is not at all what I expected!”
Bethany sounds pleased. I turn and let her examine the results of Randolph’s work under the dim lights of the garden.
“Nor anyone else. I took the liberty of letting the artist in residence have his way with the dress. Think Lachlan will mind?”
Bethany rests her fingers against her chin and looks me over again from head to toe. There’s a lot to see. What was once a formal, Victorian-inspired gown has been transformed into something completely new—if not for the remnants of charcoal lace on the skirt, I’d have assumed Randolph started from scratch. The sleeves are gone, reconstructed into the single wide strip of fabric that crosses my chest and passes over one shoulder, leaving my arms bare. The skirt, once confining and heavy, has also shifted into something new. It’s still long in the back, but Randolph has sliced, sewn, and gathered it in the front and removed most of the heavy layers. The dress remains quite showy, but it’s my legs on display now rather than my chest. Every change is a strategic trade-off, one that allows me a far greater range of motion than the gown’s previous incarnation.