Page 39 of Tempted By the Vampire Prince

Adrien just gave me that stubborn look before bolting for the gate. He was fast, but I was faster. I caught him by the back of his collar before he’d covered half a foot, and he twisted against my grip.

“Put me down!”

“No.” I turned him by the shoulders and aimed him back toward the castle. He dug his heels into the gravel path. “She is going to leave,” I explained. “And the more time you spend with her, the worse it will be when she does.”

“I don’t care!” Adrien argued. “And she hasn’t left yet.”

“I said no.”

He twisted around, facing me with defiance painted over his features. “If she knows we want her here, she’ll stay! Mr. Duval told me that’s how women work.”

I exhaled slowly and crouched down to his level. “You can want a woman to stay. You can even beg her to do so, but they have a choice. And sometimes, asking a woman to stay makes them want to leave even quicker.” I put my hand against the side of his face, the way I had when he was very small. “I’m going to find you the right nanny. I promise.”

He shoved my hand away. “Did you ask Mama to stay? Did you tell her you wanted her to be with us?”

His question sliced against all my insecurities, especially after bringing another woman into La Roseraie. I was ashamed of wanting someone else besides Emmaline.

“That was a very different situation, Adrien. Your mother was dying. No matter how much I wished for her to stay with us, I couldn’t save her.”

“You should’ve told her!” he shouted. “You should’ve told her you wanted her around. Now her ghost won’t even visit me!”

My grip slackened, and he wriggled free. With an angry look, he turned and ran back toward the castle.

“Adrien, wait!” I called after him, but he didn’t stop. “Vampires can’t even see ghosts!”

As much as I wanted to chase after him and wrap him in my arms and tell him how sorry I was, he wasn’t a toddler anymore. He was a boy.

A boy who was angry with me for not being able to save his mother.

I found Severin in the small council room, bent over a letter. His straight black hair pulled back at the nape. He looked up when I entered, and the pen stilled. “Your Grace.” He rose from his chair, bracing his hands on the desk. “You’re hurt.”

I reached into my pocket, pulled out the two medallions that I’d taken off the dead bodies, and placed them on his desk.

“Do you know what these are?” I asked.

He looked at the medallions, then picked one up. Frowning, he turned it over. “There’s a magickal charm on it. Dark magick, by the smell.” He set it down. “Where did you find these?”

“I pulled them from the throats of two men who tried to kidnap a witch from her room above Widow Martell’s tonight.”

“Your Grace?”

Unlike me, my nephew was born a vampire. He’d never known what it was like to feel his heart beating. He’d never known the taste of food. And while he was well-read, he’d never fought Dark Witches.

“These medallions,” I began, “indicate a very dangerous society of witches has taken root in Valemer. One called The Devouring. And we need to act fast.”

I had expected him to jump into action, like he usually did, with a steady hand and a thoughtful plan. Instead, he looked at me with disbelief.

“Your Grace, did you kill the men you took these from?” he asked.

I stood a little straighter. “I did,” I lied.

“And the witch they were trying to kidnap?” he continued. “She wouldn’t be the same one you pulled out of the harbor, would she?”

“Severin—”

“Forgive me, Uncle.” He set the medallion down and folded his hands. “It is only that I have not seen you leave the western wing of the castle in years, save for last night. And now, you tell me you went down into Old Town, alone, fought two witches in a tavern, and brought home—” the smallest pause “—a stranger. You’ll allow it is a great deal to take in. From you.”

“From me?” I queried. “Explain that comment.”