But the Original held his ground, pacing in front of them.
As if he were protecting the doorway like it was his lair.
I knew when the spell started to dissipate.
His steps faltered.
Once. Twice. More and more frequently.
He shook his head of long, curly blond hair like an animal, and pounded on his forehead with the heel of his palm, shaking off the effects. His six-foot-two-inch muscled frame tensed with each step he took. The black Celtic tattoos on his dark complexion bunched on his biceps, his hands turning into two fists. When he next looked up, the gold was erased from his eyes, his gaze now a stunning green.
His blond brows puckered on his rugged features.
He stopped directly in front of his friends.
Lord Xenon rushed to the window, followed by the rest of the overlords.
“Done,” Lord Otto hissed. “No more sex-crazed Original.”
“Yes, he’s no longer lusting after me, but he’s going to be pissed,” I whispered.
Master Niallan took a step toward his friends, who had stopped trying to enter.
He crashed into the invisible barrier.
My eyes widened. “You didn’t take the entire spell off?”
Lord Pippin grinned, utterly pleased with the situation. “Of course not. We can’t have him running off, now can we?”
“Yes!” I shrieked, turning in their direction. I pointed a finger at the man below. “Let him loose! You can’t possibly think he would be a good King Novitiate.”
“Actually…,” Lord Belshazzar purred, “…he would be perfect for our needs.”
“Fuck. That.” I placed my hands on my hips. “That druid would be the death of us.”
Adelie elbowed me in the side, but I ignored her.
I wasn’t done yet.
I growled, “I don’t want him as my king. Remember? I get the final say.”
“Technically, you don’t,” Lord Xenon answered evenly. “In the case that there’s only one possible candidate for king, the decision goes to the overlords.”
My fangs descended. “Try the fucking spell again. Let’s see who else we can get.”
More elbow prodding, more ignoring.
Cato’s lips trembled, and he shook his head. “You don’t understand. He is the only man who could possibly be a match for you, my sugar plum.”
I really wanted to punch the bastard. “Quit with the damn name—”
“Gwen!” Adelie shook my shoulders, yanking me around to face her. “You should shut up now.”
My eyes widened in confusion. “Why the hell would I do that?”
Her voice was so quiet I had to lean forward to hear her. “Because the Original is staring right at you. I think he can hear us.”
My eyes snaked in his direction, and I practically swallowed my tongue.
The druid was just as beautiful as I remembered.
And just as arrogant.
He lifted one blond brow, his head cocked slightly. The druid leaned back against the black rock wall next to the entry, his friends still outside glaring in. The man’s startling green eyes ran over me from head to toe in slow motion, his forehead wrinkling ever so slightly. He dipped his head down and pinched the bridge of his nose, apparently deep in thought since vampires and druids didn’t get headaches.
Oh, my fuck.
Please don’t remember me.
Please don’t remember me.
I had only known him for one day.
And I wasn’t that little lovesick child anymore—barely seventeen years old then. I hadn’t known any better and had thrown myself at him when he’d visited my grandfather’s house. I had thought he was the best-looking man in the entire world. Kind and sweet to my grandfather too.
But he had turned me away from his bedroom on my grandfather’s estate.
With a chuckle and a pat on my back.
It had been mortifying.
Master Niallan’s brows lifted during his thoughts, and then his head tipped back up. The Original avoided looking at me, his attention wholly on the overlords. In a casual tone, he murmured, “How about you come down here with me? This is a little rude. Especially after I worked so hard to get here.”
Devin and Ysander cast him a glare.
His lips twitched, peering at them outside. “You guys can go. I’m in full control of myself now.”
Devin lifted a hand and tapped a finger on the invisible barrier. “Really?”
The Original shooed his hands at them. “Fine. Go down to the village and fuck your frustrations out or something. Drink beer. I don’t give a damn. I’ll call and let you know if I need you.”
After a few more words, his friends did leave.
Then he peered back up to us. “Coming down or not? Apparently, we have something to discuss.” A glance in my direction, then back to them. “Because I am interested in the position of King Novitiate to the vampires. I already rule one race, so what’s another, right?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
~ GWYNNORE ~
My ass was firmly planted in the seat farthest away from the Original druid. And that was saying something in the cavernous jail—lots and lots of empty chairs between us. The overlords and the druid were on one side of the room, and I was on the other side. I had done my job getting a possible candidate for king here. Now, I was just snooping—out in the open— to hear what the overlords said to him.
And I didn’t want to get any closer.
My best friend probably had the right idea.
She’d run off as soon as we’d walked downstairs.
Exasperated, Lord Cato turned in his seat to face me. He called from across the room, “Are you sure you don’t want to join us?”
“No. I’m just fine sitting here.” I shrugged, not bothered by my bad behavior. “I can hear you just fine.”
His brown eyes rolled. “Are you positive?”
Without even turning to look at me, currently in a stare down with the Original, Lord Belshazzar barked, “Gwynnore, get your ass over here right now.”
My lips pinched. Dammit.
I pushed off the chair and walked toward them.
I wasn’t pouting.
No, I was glowering at the Original.
I crossed my arms and sat next to the overlord who had demanded I join their group. “I’m here. Not willingly.”
His eyes never left the Original. Lord Belshazzar groused, “So I’ve guessed.”
Master Niallan sat forward on his chair. He smirked at the lord, but his gaze…was wary. If I wasn’t mistaken, he appeared guarded around Lord Belshazzar. But, with his grin still in place, he asked, “Miss me, old friend?”
The lord chuckled. “Like I miss a case of lice.”
His lips curved even further, and he motioned at his own face, fluttering his fingers over his features. “What about this face? Do you miss that?”
Lord Belshazzar’s jaw clenched. “Shall we move on to our business, old friend? Or would you rather talk about how handsome you are? If memory serves me correctly, you’ve only given a shit about yourself your entire life.”
I snapped my fingers and pointed at the Original. “That is a fine point, my lord. He definitely shouldn’t be king. So if all that is settled, we can just go try that spell—”
“Gwynnore?” Lord Otto interrupted, his blond head snapping in my direction.
“Yes, my lord?” Pure innocence.
“From now on, keep your mouth shut.”
“Yes, my lord,” I griped.
I slunk down on my chair and crossed my arms.
This was the worst day ever.
Master Niallan lifted a blond brow. He only had eyes for one person in this room. And they weren’t for me. The druid was still staring at the lord sitting next to me. With no arrogance in his tone, only business, he asked, “Only I came for her?”
Lord Belshazzar nodded once. “Correct.”
Green eyes did flick in my direction. They ran up and down my f
rame slowly, taking their time to study each part of my person. I didn’t squirm. I simply glared harder. When his eyes returned to mine, meeting the hatred in my gaze, his lips quirked in humor.
My eyes flashed red. I gave him one warning.
That was all I would give him.
His green eyes dipped to my breasts, then back to the only lord he seemed to want to talk to. “I’ll take it.”
My shoulders tensed.
Lord Belshazzar’s head cocked. “Do you mean you want to be considered for King Novitiate? Or are you saying you’ll take her?”
“Both.” An arrogant shrug. “Both appeal to me.”
My breath came in short pants.
The lord gradually nodded his head. “The Council will consider it then. However, nothing will be officially stated until the next queen is crowned. And you will need to stay at this stronghold starting now. There are duties you will need to do for the Queen Novitiate.” He paused and cleared his throat roughly. “And whether Gwynnore allows you to ‘take her’ is entirely up to her.”
My jaw clenched.
Master Niallan smiled. It was beautiful. “Deal.”
I shoved from my chair. I’d had enough of this.
They wanted him.
What the overlords wanted, the overlords got.
As I shoved the door open to the jail, I peered over my shoulder at the Original. His green eyes were following me. I showed my fangs, and then I slammed the door shut behind me.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
~ GWYNNORE ~
Droplets of water dangled from my black hair, my soul refreshed from a hot shower, as I bent down to lift the envelope from my floor. Someone had shoved the innocent white letter under my apartment’s front door while I recuperated from the King Challenge. I ground my teeth together as I straightened from my crouch, noticing the official royal wax seal on the back, the symbol as powerful as the blood pumping in my veins—two deadly swords protected by the almighty crown.
Another Challenge.
It had to be.
Only an hour after the last was completed.
I cracked my neck and tightened my bathrobe. This one couldn’t be too bad. Hopefully. The ancient book had said the third Challenge would be— Secret.
If I were to receive a secret of royal proportions…
I smiled with genuine delight as I flopped down on the crème-colored lounge chair and tucked my legs up under me. I tapped the edge of the envelope on my right knee, my grin never fading.
Knowledge was everything.
And I was about to learn a real secret held closely to the crown. I would hold it dear and never speak of it to anyone. Not even Adelie. I wouldn’t fail this Challenge.
With careful fingers, I opened the letter.
The wax cracked with a sharp snap, little red flakes falling onto my lap, dusting my black robe with the royal seal. With two fingers, I pulled the thick paper out of the envelope. I gazed at it as I held it before me, my brows lifting in surprise as I read the contents.
It was indeed the next Challenge.
But I was foolish to believe the secret would be told through a letter. The Council would never operate that way with delicate information—where anyone could steal a simple missive and read it. No, I was to meet the eldest lord in his private chambers for this one. The words would be spoken in a quiet setting.
I nibbled on my bottom lip as I set the letter aside.
Lord Belshazzar was ancient.
It was one thing to deal with him while the other lords were around and in the public eye, but another entirely to speak with him alone in a secluded location.
Every aspect of the ancient one was deadly.
From his looks. To his personality.
To his charm. To his power.
Out of all the lords, he frightened me the most.
The man had plans within plans within plans.
Within even more plans…
Every word he spoke had meaning.
Why? Because he planned everything he said, too.
Lord Belshazzar was conniving and dominant and potent to everything he touched—whether it be a new law, a kind word, the swing of his blade, an arch of his brow, or his fangs ripping out a throat. Everything he did was pure power. The entire vampire world knew it. Hell, all the druids knew it. The Original druid was even intimated by him. While the lord had ruled as king, absolutely none had tried to pull one over on him—because he had beat them to it.
He was a ruler no one had seen coming.
And they never forgot him.
The man was that good. And old.
I wondered vaguely how old he actually was.
There was no literature on that. Anywhere.
I attempted to swallow down my nerves and stood up, brushing off the tiny flakes of wax onto the floor. I watched each one flutter to the thick carpeting, and as they did, I calmed myself.
The lord is scary-ass-frightening…
But I wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want me to be.
That was powerful in itself.
Though, I would keep my smartass nature in check.
I wanted to live, after all.
I strolled into my bedroom with more confidence than I probably should have had over meeting him alone. But I needed to get dressed. One did not meet the oldest vampire in just a robe. Too much flesh visible for them to get any ideas about how my blood might taste if I did something wrong—which was always a possibility.
Damn my mouth.
* * *
With the invitation tightly held in my right fist, I stopped in front of Lord Belshazzar’s door—after obtaining directions from the sentinels guarding the other council members’ private chambers. I cleared my throat, peered up to the guard on the right, and extended the invitation to him, to the vampire who probably had more deadly training years than I had days living. I stated simply, “I have an appointment with the lord. My name is—”
He waved off my words. “I know who you are.” The guard opened the lord’s door without fanfare. “He arrived only ten minutes ago, but go on in.”
I nodded and swallowed on a dry throat. I could do this. There was nothing to be afraid of—it was merely the next Challenge. Strange how the simplest challenge was the most worrisome. I stepped inside with purpose and managed not to flinch as the guard shut the door behind me with a jarring thud.
Instant silence.
I blinked and turned around in a circle.
The room itself was nothing like my apartment. The lord’s private space was set up more like a regular bedroom—very modest. An enormous bed with red and black satin sheets sat on my left. To my right, a couch and chair were in front of a fireplace. An actual freaking fireplace where logs were burning, a glow of flames licking up into the black cavernous rock. And there was no smoke billowing inside the room. How he had managed that inside a mountain, I didn’t even venture to guess.
But the silence had my brows rising.
The lord’s room was soundproof.
No wonder he’d wanted to have this discussion here.
The only noise heard was the sprinkle of water.
I cleared my throat again and stuffed the invitation into the right pocket of my black leather pants. Then I fussed with my white sweater and called to the dark wooden door directly across from me, “Lord Belshazzar? I can come back if you aren’t ready.”
The shower continued in the bathroom.
Though his voice was clear. “I’ll only be a minute. Make yourself comfortable.”
I ran my fingers through my own slightly damp hair and walked toward the bookshelf on the far wall next to the couch. I even took my boots and socks off to feel the brush of the fur rug on my bare feet, the rug warmed by the fire. The vampire had said to get comfortable, after all. And with that man’s black hair, just like mine in length and color, I knew he wouldn’t only be a minute.
I ran my fingers over the old tomes lining the bookshelf. No dust coated my skin. The cleaning people
here were amazing. Each book was treated better than most people, with love and a tender touch.
My head cocked and my brows furrowed, as I eyed an interesting development to my curiosity. A hidden panel in the bookshelf, slightly open—a compartment opened and hastily closed. I cast my gaze to the bathroom. The water was still running, tinkling on the tiles. I stood very still, contemplating my next actions.
I cracked my neck.
Dammit. Temptation was a bitch.
I quickly opened the panel wider.
I quickly gazed at the many books inside. Each one older than the next. Some were mere olden notebooks, the colors long faded with time. I scratched my cheek in slight confusion, though.
The spines of the books—the volumes that still had spines—were all in the ancient druid language. I’d only seen one before in my lifetime, in my grandfather’s collection. He hadn’t been able to read it, but had been extremely proud to own it. No one knew how to speak the forgotten language, much less read it.
Well, an Original druid probably could.
Asshat.
But the most puzzling problem about this view…
I jerked the invitation out of my pocket and held it up to the most legible of the spines. My gaze flicked back and forth between the two, the handwriting on the spine and the handwriting on the invitation.
Oh my dear fuck.
They were…a match.
I blinked and stuffed the invitation back into my pocket. Ever so carefully, I pulled one of the books from the shelf and opened its delicate pages. They didn’t flake as I had feared, but they were stiff from an ointment used to preserve the revered pages. I gazed at the writing, and just as the spine had shown, the pages were filled with his handwriting, in a language I couldn’t read. The ancient druid language.
I squinted at one page. A bowl had been drawn there with what might be a list underneath it, each sentence with what could be one word. Yes, probably a list.
Holy…shit.
These were druid spells.
How the fuck did the lord even know these?
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