Zephra pounced on the prince of vampires, grabbing his shirt. As his guards closed in, a circle of flames surrounded the witch.
“I’m fine. She is distraught, as we all are. Zephra, calm down. This will not help matters,” Roman said.
The guards remained stationed close to their leader, and Marcus moved in between the vamp and the witch. “We need to examine all the facts. Pointing the finger at each other only suits our enemy,” Marcus said.
The flames surrounding Zephra vanished. The witch backed away, nodding at him, but kept her gaze zeroed in on the vampire. “We knew having the wedding would be risky, but the wards were designed to protect those who gained entry. Once they were removed, the door lay open. Only someone already here could have disarmed them and killed the guards. Which means we have an enemy in our midst.” Zephra glanced around.
Only a handful gathered in the great parlor, a splendid round room painted in the softest of lilacs with ornate gilt furniture, hand-woven rugs, and an enormous crystal chandelier adding to the grandeur of their surroundings. Marcus helped himself to a stiff drink as they discussed the attack and the possibility of a traitor. Outside, the rain tapped against the windows and the old panes of glass rattled with the wind. A darkness had descended, adding to the foul mood inside.
“I need to see the guards’ corpses to establish if they were indeed attacked by a vampire. Once that’s done, I’m leaving. My emperor has summoned me to give a full report, and I’ve no choice but to comply. Gabriel’s furious. He, in turn, blames the witches, and is calling for retribution. I’ll do what I can to calm the situation, but he isn’t known for his tolerance, rather the lack of it,” Roman said with a resigned voice.
Marcus narrowed his gaze, sensing more to the vamp’s statement, especially when he refused eye contact.
He had grown to know the prince of vampires a little. Even admired him. He knew by his impassive behavior something else was at play. But as the prince glanced at Lucius, he did not volunteer anything further.
“How is Ella?” Roman asked, finally facing him.
Marcus swirled his drink as he pondered what his wife had said before she fainted, wondering whether it would be wise to draw Roman’s attention to it. But as tensions were already fraught and the man in question was the emperor, he held back that piece of information.
“Resting, thank you.”
“And the baby?”
Curious as to why the vamp displayed such interest in his wife, he examined him further. Pain and sadness exuded from Roman in waves, confirming his suspicions.
“The baby’s fine. The doctor did an examination, and all is okay. Where’s Isabella?”
At the mention of the witch, the vampire picked up his jacket and shoved his arms into the sleeves, brushing off the dust from his lapel. Roman snapped his fingers and his henchmen marched toward the exit as the central double doors swung inward, slamming back against the walls. In strode Isabella, wearing her ruined wedding dress. She shoved the guard who attempted to halt her progress by grabbing her arm.
In response, Roman flew at the vampire, grabbing him by the throat and hurtling him away, only to follow him to where he lay across the room on the floor. “Don’t ever touch her. Do you hear me? Or I’ll have your head.”
Isabella charged at Roman, tears streaming down her pale cheeks as she pulled his jacket. Eventually, he swiveled around, his face twisted in torment. The moment the vampire saw it was Isabella, his face softened somewhat, and he cupped her cheek.
“Even now, you materialize tears. Such an unnecessary human display of emotion. How strange. One could be forgiven for thinking you’re still a mere human…not a vampire at all,” Roman said coldly.
The atmosphere in the room froze.
“Tell me what your enforcer said isn’t true. Tell me!” Isabella urged.
The vampire’s features hardened to granite. With a controlled lift of his head, he stared down at the witch, his face impassive and serious. “We were never meant to be. Our joining was forced upon us. It was a mistake and for that—”
Isabella slapped the vampire across his high cheek, and he didn’t flinch, but eyed Marcus as if conveying a silent message to him, one which spoke of sorrow and regret.
Marcus knew the vampire held deep feelings for the witch, so why was he bailing? This abrupt ending of the relationship with Isabella only added to his belief there was a power struggle going on with the vampires.
“As I said, I’ve been called away. I don’t know when I shall return. As such, Isabella would be safer here with her family, where she belongs. I trust you will see to it, Drayton.”
Marcus gave the vampire a curt nod.
“Do not follow me, my little witch. No good will come of it. I am setting you free.” All the vampires cleared out, shutting the doors behind them.
Isabella ran toward it, but Marcus grabbed her wrist before she bolted outside and held her still. Twisting and turning, she cried out at him. “Let me go. Damn it.”
“No—Roman wants you here, and here you’ll stay,” he said.
The witch stood motionless, staring at the exit.
He only hoped he had understood correctly, suspecting that Roman’s action was in Isabella’s best interest. Leaving her here appeared to highlight her lack of acceptance by the vampires.
“Let me take her, Marcus. I can help ease your pain, Isabella,” Zephra said.
