Page 25 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

“Funny?” I asked. “I don’t think there’s anything funny about women being attacked in the streets of the capital.”

“I suppose,” he said. “Although they certainly do have a way with words.”

I made a mental note to hurl something rotten at that blasted troupe the next time I laid eyes on them. “I’ll have to catch their next performance,” I replied through gritted teeth.

“I’ll admit, I’m surprised to see the King with a human on his arm tonight. They’re not usually his type.”

“I beg your—”

“He doesn’t really understand humans, you see,” he continued, cutting me off once again. “Doesn’t have the experience. Which is probably why he brought you to a room full of vampires dressed like—” He paused, running his eyes over my gown. “Well, dressed like a meal.”

“Are you always this charming when you meet new people?” I snapped. “Or are you just enamored with the sound of your own voice?”

To my surprise, he laughed, his green eyes glittering. “Oh, this will be fun.”

“What will be?” I asked, indignant.

He ignored my question. “I mean no offense, you know. The King loves beautiful things. Even if he doesn’t know how to handle them.”

I bristled. His words were a cipher, an insult hidden beneath each one. I loosened my grip on his shoulder to try and put some distance between us, but his hold on me was firm. To my relief, the music came abruptly to a halt just then, sending guests scurrying off the dance floor. “Until next time, Miss Erramun,” he said, bowing to me. I offered him a curt nod before darting back to Mordric’s side. There would be no next time if I had anything to say about it.

Mordric frowned as I approached without my escort. “Everything alright?” he asked, handing me another glass of wine.

I took a long, slow sip to give myself time to collect my thoughts. “That vampire is, er, chatty,” I said, choosing my words carefully. With my luck, he was likely some sort of influential duke.

“Ah, I see that my brother has not made the best first impression,” said Mordric, offering a friendly smile. “I hope he didn’t offend you.”

“Your brother?” I echoed, my eyes widening. “Prince Enhart?”

Mordric nodded.

“Of course,” I whispered. My gaze found the vampire once again in the crowd. I had forgotten Valen even had a prince. From what I could remember, Enhart was the younger than Mordric by nearly a decade. He was leaner and slightly shorter than his brother, although still nearly a head taller than me. The shade of his hair matched Mordric’s but was cropped shorter, long enough still that he paused occasionally to sweep back the inky black waves that fell across his eyes when he laughed.

“He’s actually the expert I spoke to you about the other night,” Mordric continued.

I choked on my wine. “Him?” I asked. “Forgive me, but I expected someone a little more like, er, me.”

Mordric chuckled. “He may not be a witch, but Enhart spent years studying the history of the arcane at Hollybrook. He’s also extraordinarily accomplished at vampiric magic, which I’m sure he’d be happy to explain in detail to you. He’s the best in the realm and he’ll make an excellent tutor.”

I frowned, swirling the wine around my glass. He didn’t exactly strike me as the forthcoming type. “Did you study at Hollybrook as well?” I asked. The university was the kingdom’s oldest, and located in the northernmost reaches of the realm. It was renowned for safeguarding ancient knowledge and nurturing Valen’s most enlightened minds.

“I did, although I wasn’t well suited for the classroom.”

“I find that hard to believe, Your Majesty.”

“You flatter me.”

Mordric did not drag me onto the dance floor again, thank the gods, but entertained a dozen or so other courtiers as his partner. The guests were cordial, but I did not get the sense that they were particularly interested in me. Perhaps that was for the best. I nodded politely as he was dragged away yet again by the Earl of Somewhere, then hovered awkwardly by the wall with my drink. As I leaned against the cool stone, a vampiress materialized by my side. She wore a brilliant gown that matched her silver hair and porcelain skin.

“I thought I might keep you company,” she said, raising her cup.

“How kind of you,” I replied.

“My name is Vesper.”

“Finn.”

“Enjoying your evening?”