Page 62 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

She grinned. “No hard feelings. Time means very little to a vampire. We’ll have plenty of opportunity.”

I gratefully accepted a flute of sparkling wine from a passing waiter. “Fantastic vintage,” Vesper informed me. “Imported from across the Great Sea.”

I sipped my drink, relishing the fizz of the bubbles as they danced along my tongue. The table was lively with conversation as the usual gaggle of noblemen and noble ladies gorged themselves on food and drink. The waiters presented a whole-roasted lamb to their audience, who practically squealed with delight at the sight of it. My mouth watered as they carved the succulent meat off the bone and onto silver platters.

I overheard Mordric boasting loudly from the head of the table about the progress I’d made recently. I held my breath as he regaled his advisers, expecting Enhart to jump in at any moment to contradict him. Thankfully, the prince was otherwise occupied with Genevieve, who was practically falling into his lap. She burst into a fit of giggles at something he said and my eyes narrowed as her hand crawled up his arm like a spider.

“No one could possibly think he was that funny,” I muttered.

“Who?” said Vesper, her brows knitting together in confusion.

Flushing, I replied in a measured tone, “Prince Enhart. That woman is losing her mind at everything she says. It’s not as if he needs anyone to help inflate his ego.”

“Ah, you mean Genevieve.”

I took a long swig from my third glass of wine, my eyes trained on the redheaded vampiress. “You know her?”

“Of course. Her father is a fabulously wealthy arms trader. They reside on an estate on the Sunken Coast, so she must be cutting her teeth this season.”

“Cutting her teeth?”

“Think of it as an introduction to court. A highborn vampire or vampiress of a certain age—typically around two hundred years old—comes to Valnar to attend balls and feasts and attract suitors. Humans do the same around twenty-five years of age, although they call it a debut.”

“I see.”

“Have you met?”

I shrugged. “She was waiting for Enhart after one of our sessions a few nights ago. Are they …” I trailed off.

“Are they fucking?” Vesper finished for me, noticeably unfazed. “Probably, but Enhart fucks everyone so it’s not really news.”

“Everyone?” I glanced at her sideways.

She giggled. “Just an expression, my dear.”

I nodded slowly, stealing another look at the prince.

“Why are you asking me this, anyway?” she asked. “If the King is not meeting your needs—”

I held up my hand. “That’s quite enough, thank you.”

“Just teasing,” she giggled, popping a gooseberry between her lips.

My ears are burning, came a familiar voice inside my head, causing me to smack my knee into the underside of the table. I swore, startling the countess sitting opposite me. She turned her nose up, glaring at me. Enhart’s laughter echoed in my ears. You can take the girl out of the Outlands …

I glanced in the direction of the prince, who appeared to be listening intently to a conversation between Genevieve and Lady Greenwood, the Keeper of the Royal Purse. He leaned back in his seat, running his thumb along the curve of his chin. Aren’t you in the middle of a conversation? I replied.

Aren’t you?

I scowled. It’s hard to focus on when all I can hear is that girl’s squealing.

Trust me, she’s loud at all the right moments. He grinned widely before taking a swig from his goblet.

I thought you hated these banquets, I thought menacingly.

Does it look like I’m enjoying myself?

Laughter swelled at my end of the table, but I was transfixed. The prince was draped across his chair like he’d never been more at ease. My attention flicked to the redheaded vampiress as I wrung my napkin like a rooster’s neck beneath the table. The desire she felt for Enhart crawled over my skin like a rash. Her fingers curled so tightly around the prince’s bicep that I thought she might simply float away if she released him. I wished she would.