Page 63 of The Witch in the Dead of Night

Resentment pulsed beneath my skin like poison. I hated how easy it was to dislike her. I wasn’t sure why I did. Without thinking, I unleashed the tendrils of my will into her mind. It wasn’t difficult, I found, smirking when I didn’t come up against any resistance. Rooting into her memories, I caught glimpses of noble folk spinning around a ballroom in all their finery, the eerie darkness of the Sunken Coast at night, and a long, rocky journey on the ship to Valnar, but this wasn’t what I was looking for.

I dug deeper, bitterness growing with every new memory. From what I could see, Genevieve had never had to work a single day of her life. Meanwhile, there were still scars on my hands from handling hot irons, and my back might always pain me first thing in the morning from all the hours I had spent on my knees in filth, scrubbing the floor with a rag. Envy burned within me untamed, the flames so hot that I was certain my skin would start smoking.

I sucked in a breath as Enhart’s face came into sight. He stood in a deserted corridor dressed in the same midnight-blue waistcoat he wore tonight. Irritation was written plainly across his face, his sharp features gilded by the light of the paper lanterns hanging overhead.

“You spend all your time with that wretched human,” whined Genevieve, the sound of her voice like nails scraping against millstone.

“I’m fulfilling a duty to the King,” replied Enhart cooly. “As I have told you a hundred times over.”

I smirked as her hiss of frustration filled my ears. “Well, my father—”

“Your father is not here, so I suggest you rethink whatever poorly articulated threat you were about to issue,” he snapped. “I would also remind you that I hold no commitment to you, or anyone for that matter, apart from my brother.”

Genevieve sidled up to him, tracing her crimson-painted nails along his outstretched arm. They were filed into claw-like points. “I know that, but I can’t help it. I hate seeing you with anyone else.”

He snorted. “You should be used to it by now.”

Her lips peeled back, revealing the sharp points of her fangs.

“Listen to me closely,” Enhart continued. “The Outlander is nothing but a duty to me. A nuisance. A pain. Believe me, I wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.”

Any semblance of satisfaction I’d gained from entering her mind vanished. The tendrils of my will curled inward like the limbs of a wounded beast as I slipped from her mind. Genevieve’s laughter stung my ears once more, her claws sliding down the prince’s shoulder. His eyes flicked toward me, a crease between his brows.

Ignoring the lump that had formed in my throat, I stood, garnering a surprised look from Vesper as I excused myself from the table. I stalked off to the nearest powder room and slammed the door in my wake, rattling the gilded mirror from which my bewildered expression stared back at me. The crystal vials of soaps and perfumes that dotted the marble counter shuddered as my temper flared.

I swayed slightly, the wine fizzing inside my skull. “What is wrong with you?” I asked aloud. It shouldn’t matter what Enhart thought of me—or what Genevieve thought, for that matter. I knew what our arrangement was, and I’d spent the last two months complaining about him every chance I got. Not like that, I thought.

Allowing a trickle of magic to flow to my fingertips, I coaxed water out of the pitcher beside the washbasin and ran it through my outstretched fingers, steadying my breathing. I forced myself to remember why I was here. To serve the realm, just like Enhart. To earn a seat at the table next to the man who actually cared for me. To escape a life of servitude, and to assume a new rank based on my own merit. What the prince thought about me personally shouldn’t matter. In fact, it shouldn’t even bother me. It wasn’t like we were friends. Or even that I enjoyed his company.

Nothing but a duty.

The water hit the washbasin with a splat. I scrubbed my wet hands down my gown. Resolving to ignore him and his precious Genevieve for the rest of the night, I opened the door to find myself staring into the dull brown eyes of the vampiress herself. I inhaled sharply, taking a step backward.

“Lynn, right?” she asked, squeezing in beside me. She set about primping herself in the mirror, repositioning her bodice to emphasize her ample bosom. “Prince Enhart’s told me a bit about you.”

“My name is Finn,” I replied, bristling. Remaining here was probably a mistake, and yet I was rooted to the spot.

She giggled, flashing her fangs. “Oops. I just think it’s so sweet that he’s taking the time to teach you,” she said. “Especially since it seems like it’s not an easy task. My Enny certainly loves to complain.”

I choked down a violent urge to slap her, or perhaps to set her precious red hair on fire. Especially since, after what I’d witnessed in her memories, I knew she was speaking the truth. Releasing the breath I was holding, I reminded myself that I was surrounded by nobles and attacking one of their own would be viewed as somewhat unseemly, or so I assumed. “Enny and I are surviving,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I didn’t realize he allowed you to call him by his given name,” she replied. “How informal.”

“I don’t …” I trailed off. It was pointless to argue with her. “Never mind.”

“Anyway, you must be so busy with the King,” she said, pinching her cheeks so that color rose to the surface of her ivory skin. “He speaks very highly of you.”

She’s right, I told myself, so why let his pesky little brother’s taunts bother you?

“I just have to know though.” She spun to face me, twirling a curl around her finger. “Has he tasted you yet?”

My cheeks warmed. “Excuse me?”

She giggled, although her smile did not reach her eyes. “Oh, not that! I meant your blood. Is that a weird question to ask a human? I don’t usually hang around your kind, I guess.”

I frowned. Even with Vesper, who rarely, if ever, minced her words, I had never broached this particular subject.

“I’ll take that as a no,” said the vampiress. “I completely understand though. It’s not something you would do with just anyone.”