Page 40 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

I lowered my voice. “Please don’t make me grovel. She was one of your staff, after all.”

He huffed. “Fine. I’ll let you know what I find out, but you owe me.”

“Thank you.”

He shrugged me off, sidling up to his master who greeted him with a curt nod. As he did, Mordric caught my eye and broke out in a dazzling smile, stealing the breath from my lungs. He detached himself from his advisers, politely moving through the chattering crowd of his adoring subjects. They heaped praises upon him, bowing in a wave as he passed.

“Miss Erramun.” He took my hand, delicately pressing his lips to my knuckles. “You look well.”

“I am,” I replied brightly.

He laced my hand through his muscled arm. “Walk with me?”

“With pleasure.”

We peeled away from the crowd, the excited chatter fading as we ventured through the corridors. The portraits of the royal line stared down at us, over two thousand years of vampire kings immortalized in oil.

“Tell me,” he said. “Have things simmered down between you and my brother?”

I hesitated, mulling the events of the evening over in my mind. “I managed to slip past his wards tonight,” I replied, twisting the truth.

He chuckled. “Did you? That’s no easy feat.”

“Have you tried before?”

“Tried and failed on many occasions. Considering that you’ve only been training for a few weeks, I’m impressed.”

I mirrored his grin. “Thank you.”

We paused at the foot of a tall window, gazing out onto the moon-soaked grounds.

“Are you missing your friends?” he asked, his eyes trained on the hillside. “I want you to feel at home here, you know.”

I sensed a whisper of concern emanating from him. “Is something wrong?” I asked.

“No,” he said. “I just wondered what you might be discussing with the seneschal’s apprentice.”

I swallowed. “Maxence? Just, er, catching up.”

His smile did not reach his eyes. “And you two are friends? Or perhaps more?”

A snort escaped me. “I’m so sorry,” I said, clapping a hand over my mouth as his brow furrowed. “It’s not like that with Maxence. Not even a little bit. In fact, I’m certain that he’s courting my best friend.”

Air whistled between his lips as he exhaled. “I’m relieved. I confess I find myself rather possessive of your affections.”

My heart fluttered. “Trust me, I don’t have affections for anyone else.”

His eyes flashed. “Good.”

He tucked a loose hair behind my ear, trailing his fingers down the curve of my jaw to my chin. My skin pebbled in a trail where he touched me. I tilted toward him, our lips lingering inches apart. When our mouths met, his kiss was devouring. I willingly surrendered to it, the lingering remnants of the unpleasant memory of my latest misstep with Enhart fading into nothing.

As we parted, a smile appeared on his face. “That should be enough to get me through the rest of these godsforsaken meetings,” he whispered.

“Happy to be of service,” I replied, earning a chuckle from the vampire.

A page appeared at Mordric’s side, bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet. “The Viscount Harring, Your Majesty.” I recognized the vampire who approached us as the husband of the woman Vesper claimed to be bedding.

He bowed. “Your Majesty.”