Page 41 of Dhampira

“Corinthe!”

He descended quickly, snapping the book shut as he crossed to me. Shrewd green eyes searched my face, and a knowing expression settled over his features. “You met Barothrok. Didn’t Prince Lorcan warn you not to engage him?” As Lorcan appeared at my shoulder, Rasimir gave him an expectant look.

Lorcan’s face was a polite mask as he offered Rasimir a short bow. “A brief warning not to dawdle, Majesty. For many people, too much detail can lead to fear.”

The lie clanged in my head like a discordant note. Lorcan hadn’t just warned me to hurry. He’d also spoken in my head, telling me to withhold my name.

Rasimir nodded. Then he turned to me with approval shining in his eyes. “Prince Lorcan is wise. An excellent trait for a king’s chief adviser, yes?”

I looked at Lorcan. So that was his role. Chief adviser to a brutal tyrant. Maybe hunting Alon had been his idea.

“The demon who guards my office feeds on fear,” Rasimir added, pulling my gaze back to him. “Do you know much about demons?” He showed me the book he was holding, which was bound in red leather and titled in a language I couldn’t read. “Fascinating creatures. As I mentioned, Barothrok thrives on fear, but some species consume other things. Fear is an almost inexhaustible commodity, however, which means demons like Barothrok can get quite large.” Rasimir used the book to gesture behind me. “When I first brought him to Nocta, he never stopped trying to escape. But over time, he glutted himself on fear, growing bigger. He’s so large now, he fills the antechamber. He could escape if he simply stopped eating. But he can’t help himself. The more fear he devours, the more he wants. I’ve read that the hunger becomes insatiable, the cravings a special kind of torture.” Rasimir leaned toward me with a conspiratorial smile. “Sounds a bit like lemon cakes, doesn’t it?”

I knew my expression was stony as I stared at him. “It doesn’t sound anything like lemon cakes,” I said.

Rasimir’s smile grew, the tips of his fangs showing. “Oh, it is, I assure you. But if you still have doubts, you could spend a few days in Barothrok’s company. I’m confident that would eliminate your confusion.” He made a dismissive gesture. “Of course, it would eliminate all other emotion as well since it would destroy your mind. But at least you wouldn’t be confused. Should we give it a try?”

My throat went dry and dread prickled over my scalp. “No,” I said carefully. “That’s not necessary.”

My father’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “You’ll have to let me know if you change your mind. But it’s probably for the best. You and Lorcan will be quite busy with wedding plans.”

Lorcan was a silent presence at my side. I waited for his voice to slide into my mind—to caution me as he had during the hunt. But he offered no help. Just silence.

I lowered my gaze, shame and anger warring within me. All of Nocta serves the king. And now I knew why. Rasimir’s eyes weren’t black, but his madness was obvious. How could I fight someone who didn’t discern between right and wrong? How could I challenge a man who was willing to feed his own daughter to a demon?

“However,” Rasimir said, “I have concerns.” When I looked up, he studied me, a frown between his black eyebrows. “Lilawen was a prodigy. It’s disconcerting to discover you so lacking.”

A combination of defensiveness and curiosity put words on my tongue, but I swallowed them before I could reply and make things worse. Still, questions churned in my mind. He’d said my mother was a thief and a liar. How did either of those things make her a prodigy? His disappointment in me was less mystifying. He’d been furious when I’d failed to drain Alon.

Rasimir’s green eyes lingered on me a moment longer. Then he spun and stalked toward the rear of the office. “Bring her,” he called over his shoulder.

Lorcan took my elbow and propelled me forward. We skirted the edge of one of the staircases and caught up with Rasimir as he pulled a book from one of the shelves. The entire bookcase shifted, revealing a hidden opening. Rasimir stepped into it, and Lorcan pushed me after him.

A twisting staircase plunged straight downward. Small white orbs bobbed above torches on the wall. Rasimir descended, his steps light and sure. My stomach pitched as Lorcan nudged me to follow. Holding my skirts in tight fists, I held my breath and obeyed.

Within moments, my world narrowed to the hovering orbs, the back of Rasimir’s head, and the sound of our footsteps on the stone. The twisting stairs went on forever, drawing us down, down, down. Dizziness assailed me, but I gritted my teeth and kept going, willing my feet to find purchase on the narrow steps. The air grew cooler. The orbs danced as we passed, their gentle bobbing a sharp contrast to the staccato click of our shoes against the stone. Hunger clawed at me, and the muscles in my legs turned jittery. Just when I considered throwing caution to the wind and asking Rasimir to stop, the staircase ended, and we stepped into a stone corridor.

A guard stationed before a pair of black metal doors executed a sharp salute. “Majesty,” he barked. “How may I assist?”

“Open the fucking door,” Lorcan said behind me.

The guard jumped like he’d been burned. Whirling, he grasped one of the handles and pulled. The door groaned as it slowly swung open. Tendons in the man’s neck strained, and red crept up his nape as he clearly labored to complete his task.

“Good man,” Rasimir murmured, stepping past him. I followed before Lorcan could nudge me again, and I nodded toward the sweating guard as I entered a dungeon.

Cells lined either side of a long aisle, each door made of solid metal and manned by a guard with a sword on his hip. The passage stretched so far in the distance, it appeared to form a point. If each cell was occupied, the dungeon had to house at least a hundred prisoners. The space was clean and well lit, with more torches on the walls. Silence hung over it like a shroud. The guards were eerily still, their gazes straight ahead. There were no stools. No places to rest. If not for the slight rise and fall of the guards’ chests, I would have thought them statues.

Rasimir moved down the line of cells, his boots loud on the stone. I moved with him, aware of Lorcan on my heels. Rasimir stopped in front of a cell, and the guard quickly unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Inside, a figure huddled against the wall, his head down and his knees drawn to his chest. Long, unkempt hair streamed over tattered clothing. As the guard approached, the figure lifted his head.

My heart dropped to my stomach as I locked eyes with a woman. Traces of beauty remained on her face, but her time in the dungeon had clearly robbed her of most of it. Her eyes were sunken, her cheeks hollow. But that wasn’t what made nausea rise in my throat.

A piece of metal covered her mouth, the edges seamlessly melding with her skin. It was as if someone had soldered the metal onto her body, and now she could never remove it.

The guard crossed the cell, gripped her under the elbow, and hauled her to her feet. My heart dropped a second time as I took in the metal cuffs over her hands. Like the piece over her mouth, the edges flowed into her skin with no discernible latch or fastening.

Her bare feet shuffled against the stone floor as the guard hurried her from the cell. The woman’s blue eyes widened as she stared at me.