Irina grabbed a lock of her hair, her lips parting in horror when she realized Magna was right. The tight black coils were damp, especially the ends. A few trickles of water leaked dark trails of red down her dress in the back.
“Oh, Goddess, help me,” she breathed. She raised her gaze to the room, almost afraid to look for Kirill but needing to know if he was watching just the same. “Did the prince notice? Did anyone else notice?”
“None of my brethren would take his eyes off his gold long enough to notice wet hair,” Magna said dryly. “The women probably noticed, but they won’t care enough to say anything. As for your prince, the last thing he was paying attention to was your hair.”
“Oh, no, I almost enslaved a prince,” Irina murmured, her heart sinking to her knees. “I had no idea vampires were susceptible.”
“They aren’t.”
Irina shook her head, watching as Kirill stepped closer to the throne, offering something to the king. Irina couldn’t make out the monarch behind a glittering stalagmite, but it didn’t matter anyway. It was Kirill she had to watch. “No, Magna, it’s true. The way he looked at me, not just here, but before. He stares at me like a drowning man—and he didn’t kill me, not even after I cut him.”
Magna sputtered a laugh and gave Irina a little shove. “Well, that’s a story you’ll have to share with me after your song. However, one thing I can promise you, my dear…rusalki don’t bespell vampires. Nor do sirens.” She paused. “If you have sirin blood, or firebird blood, that might be another story, but I’d have to consult my books. But based on my own observations, I feel confident telling you that nothing about what the prince feels for you is magic.”
“How can you be sure?” Irina protested, her stomach doing flips as she stared down at the troll.
The woman offered a kind smile and raised her hand. A ring on her second finger burst into a brilliant display of light and a few wisps of steam rose into the air above Irina. She jerked as she realized her hair was dry.
“No one knows magic like troll women,” Magna said softly. She nodded up toward the top of the rock. “Now go sing your song.”
In a daze, Irina climbed the magical staircase and stepped onto the rock. Desire still breathed like a living thing inside her, but away from Kirill it was manageable. Magna’s words danced in her head, mocking her with their nonsense. Kirill couldn’t be immune. There was no other explanation for his reaction to her. They were both victims of her own poor control over her heritage. What other explanation was there?
A song would prove it. Irina tilted her head, contemplating the slope of Kirill’s back, admiring him while he couldn’t see the look of appreciation on her face. If only he wasn’t such a power hungry leech, she thought wistfully. He really is very handsome. She sighed. Nevertheless, she couldn’t bespell someone against his will, not even someone as arrogant and deserving of it as Kirill. She would just have to sing, reach out with her voice and prove to herself and Magna that she could indeed affect the vampiric prince. That would scare him away from her. Kirill was definitely not the type of man to stay close to anyone who might be able to exert control over him. He’d fulfill his end of the bargain and leave her alone. The people would keep more of their hard-earned money and everyone would be happy. She would be happy. Right?
Angry at herself for her pitiful thoughts, Irina squared her shoulders and drew herself up to her full height. She took a deep breath and reached inside herself for the peace and joy that was the source of her song. Parting her lips, she let the melody spill out of her body and flow into the room.
One by one, the male trolls turned to face her, tilting their heads as every note worked to weave a tapestry of hauntingly beautiful music. The women didn’t appear affected, but they smiled in appreciation, nodding to Irina in acknowledgement of her skill. Irina forced herself to focus on Kirill, to meet his ice blue eyes, absent of any red glow. She looked at him as if she could look through him, reaching deeper inside herself for the heavier notes that rusalki had used to lure men to their deaths for centuries. Every note flowed to Kirill, every lyric drawn out for his ears. She looked at him and let go of her control over her desire, letting it soak into the notes and wrap around him all the way across the giant cavern full of trolls and treasure.
He watched her, his eyebrows rising every so slightly. He tilted his head and closed his eyes and Irina could have sworn he swayed to the music. It wasn’t right. He should be scrambling toward her, trampling anyone in his way regardless of the danger. It was what happened when one was the target of a rusalka’s song.
The trolls around her stepped forward, almost hypnotized by the song and Irina reluctantly pulled back until the song was just music, no longer infused with the magic she held within her. She finished the last note and the cavern plunged into silence.
Across the room, Kirill opened his eyes and smiled at her and Irina’s sanity nearly snapped. She turned just as the room erupted in applause and dashed down the invisible steps, hoping they were still there. As soon as her feet hit the floor she ran up to the first female she saw.
“Ladies room?”
The troll cocked an eyebrow and pointed toward a curve in the cave. Irina dashed along the smooth stone wall, not daring to look around her for fear that someone would stop her and she’d have to stand there while Kirill made his way over. She couldn’t face him, not yet, not until she figured out what was going on.
She passed through a shadow and came to an abrupt halt when a bright light attacked her eyes. Though she was still obviously in the cave, she’d passed through a portal of some sort, she could tell from the tell-tale tingle on her skin. The stone had been polished to within an inch of its life. The loos were on the left, neat marble screens placed around them for privacy. On the right, the wall was covered by mirrors and stone basins with water that smelled of roses. Sconces lined the walls, a soft crackling filled the air along with the scent of burning herbs.
Irina stumbled toward the mirrors and stood there staring at her reflection. She reached behind her to grab a lock of hair, only partially relieved to find it was still dry. Images of Kirill filled her mind and she closed her eyes as if she could block them out.
“You worry too much.”
Irina opened her eyes, not surprised to find Magna’s reflection next to hers in the mirror. “You think?” she mumbled.
“Yes. I told you, the vampire’s attraction to you is not a result of any powers. Even the song of the rusalka cannot affect the dead.”
A sigh seemed to rise from the depths of her being and Irina slumped. “I know.”
“That disappoints you?”
“It annoys me.” A flash of anger sparked to life inside Irina and she clung to it with both hands. She raised her gaze to stare into Magna’s eyes in the mirror. “His vampiric powers work just fine on me. The bastard had me bespelled and damn near fed on me without so much as a warning. To make matters worse, he made me enjoy it.” She covered her face with her hands, furious at the blush heating her cheeks. “I can’t quit thinking about it and it only get worse.”
“It’s not as bad as all that.”
Irina dropped her hands. “I climbed into his lap in the carriage. Is that bad enough? For the love of the Great Goddess, I can’t quit thinking about him, can’t seem to keep from touching him when he’s around.”
Magna stepped up and braced her hip against the edge of a basin. “And you’re upset because you think that it’s because he’s bespelled you?”
“I’m sure that helped.”
“It didn’t happen. A vampire can’t bespell a rusalka.”
“I’m not all rusalka. I’m only one-eighth rusalka.”
“And what is your other heritage?”
Irina pressed her lips together. “That doesn’t matter. The point is, he bespelled me.”
“No,” Magna said patiently, “the point is he cannot bespell you. The point is, you are a rusalki, in whatever capacity, and besides that, perhaps even more importa
ntly, you are a young woman. Sexuality is not some tame thing that happens when it is convenient, and it is much less so when you have siren blood in your veins. You are attracted to Kirill, and why not? He’s a handsome man, isn’t he? Attractive, well mannered for a vampire…”
“He’s a beast with a crown.”
“And yet here you are, attending a ball with him to help him gain favor with my king.”
“It’s part of a deal I made for the good of my people,” Irina ground out.
Magna shrugged. “Have it your way. But ignoring a healthy sexual appetite won’t make it go away. And it seems to be more than reciprocal. Keep a good head on your shoulders and it’ll tell you where to put the rest of your body.”
Irina’s jaw dropped as Magna winked at her and then swept out of the women’s room. Before she could fully recover, another figure crept in. She had red hair too, as did most of the troll women, but hers had more blonde in it than Magna’s. Her dress was a vivid purple, ringed with pale silver fur. She looked familiar, but Irina couldn’t quite place her.
“You’ll have to forgive Magna,” the woman said apologetically. “She fell for a vampire not long ago and I’m afraid it affects her judgment.”
“Since she seems to be encouraging me to jump into a vampire’s bed, I’d have to say you’re right,” Irina mused. She shoved away the unsettled feeling rocking her stomach and examined her reflection for any outward signs of her distress. Whatever she may be feeling inside, she certainly had no intention of letting Kirill see it.
“Well, I for one think you’re right to be wary,” the woman said. “Prince Kirill has his fingers in many pies…if you catch my meaning?”
Irina snapped her gaze to the woman’s eyes. The pity she saw aimed at her made bile rise in her throat.
“Oh?” she asked lightly.
“Yes,” the woman said gently. She frowned at Irina’s back. “Oh, my dear, your bodice ties seem to be slipping. May I?”
“Yes, please. You were…saying?’
“Hmmm? Oh, yes, about the prince. Well, as you know he is quite…ambitious. He wants to be king and since his father is a vampire—”
“He may never get to the throne, yes, I know. But what does that have to do with other women?” She sucked in her breath as the woman unlaced her bodice and began to tighten it one strand at a time.
“Well, the prince gets power where he can. He spends night after night searching ancient texts, bribing people, torturing people…seducing people. Really, anything he can do to make an alliance or gain information. He really is a very intelligent man.”
“Intelligence isn’t everything,” Irina whispered. She grunted as the woman pulled at her laces. “I think that’s snug enough, thank you,” she said lightly, not wanting to insult the woman. She shook her head. Shadows danced at the edge of her vision.
“Of course I’m not saying you’re some light-headed virgin falling in love with a prince that you think is going to fall madly in love with you.”
Irina gritted her teeth, as much against the pressure of her laces as with the woman’s insinuation. “If I am light-headed, it’s because you’re pulling those ties…too…tight.”
The room swam and Irina tried to get a breath only to find there was no room in her bodice. She raised her arms behind her, scrabbling for her ties. The woman behind her held the laces away, pulling them even tighter as she leaned back.
“There are forces at work in this kingdom that you could not even begin to comprehend,” the woman said quietly.
She jerked on the laces and Irina would have gasped if she had the air. Her chest burned with the need to breathe and bright spots exploded in front of her eyes.
“The prince may have needed you to get to King Risi, but that is all. Your part is done and you are no longer needed.”
Tears leaked from her eyes as vertigo spun her around. Something hard crashed into her cheek and pain exploded in her head just before blackness ate her world.
Chapter 8
“Such a large, gorgeous voice for such a tiny woman. She’s too good for you.”
Kirill smiled tolerantly at King Risi, making sure to keep a healthy amount of space between him and the monarch. Irina’s song had exceeded Kirill’s hopes and the king was in fine spirits, smiling and laughing and even waving around the heavy gold medallion Kirill had gifted him with. If Kirill could keep far enough away to prevent Risi from thumping him on the back in overly enthusiastic camaraderie, he’d consider the evening a complete success.
“Where is the lady anyway?” the king asked, standing from his throne to peer out over the crowd of his people. His craggy grey face contorted as he searched the room. “She took off quickly enough after her song.” He eyed Kirill and the vampire realized too late that the dais before the throne didn’t give him enough room to maneuver. The king’s thick hand crashed onto his shoulder, nearly buckling his knees with the force. “Perhaps those hungry eyes of yours scared the lass off, eh?”
He guffawed as Kirill tried not to growl. Trolls were not known for their stringent decorum, but if Risi kept touching him, Kirill feared he’d be pressed to say something unfortunate. Mountain trolls may as well be made of stone themselves for as heavy as they were and every time the king touched Kirill, the vampire felt the need to check for broken bones—and considering his vampiric strength, that was saying something. He forced a smile.
“Well, Irina is a lovely woman and she had such kind things to say about your people. I’m sure she’ll be heartened to hear that the tension between us is through and you and I are allies once again.”
The smile remained on King Risi’s face, but a light flared to life in the grey depths of his eyes that almost made Kirill back up a step. “Oh, Kirill,” he said slowly. He tightened his fingers on Kirill’s shoulder. “It is good that Irina was here to sing for us, else I would have had no choice but to go through with my original plan for entertainment, regardless of the lovely trinket you’ve gifted me with.”
Every nerve in Kirill’s body sang with awareness and his fangs slid from their sheaths. He calculated the distance between him and the exit to the cavern, counting four armed trolls between him and the mouth of the troll court. He had five blades on his person, each one sharpened to a razor’s edge and each one dipped in various poisons. Mountain trolls had thick hides, but the combination of sharp metal and poison should be enough to slow them down enough to let him escape. It wouldn’t be pleasant, but he could do it.
“And what was that, Your Majesty?” he asked, his voice betraying none of his sudden wariness.
“I was going to throw your dead body in a pit of boiling oil and see if you could swim out before you were cooked.”
The pulse of the troll king’s heart echoed in Kirill’s ears. It would take some tearing to get deep enough, but Kirill estimated he could kill him in less than three minutes, four if the king had had sex in the last six hours.
“Relax, vampire,” the king said, his voice lower and lacking the joviality of the moment before. “You won’t die by my hand tonight.”
“I had high hopes that we could move past the unfortunate events of a few months ago,” Kirill said quietly. “Unlike my father, I recognize the value of your people. I consider you a strong ally that I desire to have by my side, not a population of hoarders to be ignored. My father—”
“Your father never so much as blinked when my people pursued a treasure,” King Risi growled. “You sided with that mongrel prince against us and for what? He’s not a member of this kingdom, and he is not king of another. Do you expect me to believe for one moment that you had some grave need to hold my people out of Sanguenay? What can that prince offer you that is so much more than the King of the Trolls?”
“Irina!”
A piercing shriek interrupted whatever response Kirill would have offered. Even if he’d had a human’s hearing, that voice would have offended his senses. As it was he nearly winced at the shrill note of panic. The content of the shout reg
istered like a bucket of icewater and Kirill leapt down from the royal dais and bolted through the room toward the voice.
A female troll stood in a room that had been set farther back in the cave—the ladies room, he guessed. She stood there staring down in horror at a pile of material on the floor. Kirill jerked his head back as he realized the crumpled form was Irina.
In seconds he was at her side, his hand cupping her cheek as he examined her face. Her pale skin had a bluish tint.
“Quiet down!” he roared, flashing his fangs and his glowing red eyes at the trolls crowding around him. Silence exploded in the room and he leaned closer to Irina. She wasn’t breathing. He slid his gaze over her body, dancing his fingers over her chest and down her stomach. Tiny swells of her flesh pressed up from between the laces of her dress and he realized her bodice had been pulled tight to compress her lungs. Without a thought, he reached into the depths of his cloak and withdrew a dagger. The blade sliced through the laces with barely a whisper, the fine blade cutting the strings with precision, not even touching the underlying cloth beneath.
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