Shadow's Claim

list.”

How prophetic. With a deranged roar, he crushed the goblet. She and Caspion had played him.

And now Trehan had nothing! As he stabbed his sword into its scabbard, he remembered how his father had counseled him to accept his lot.

But with Bettina, Trehan had thought he’d found his family, friend, mistress, the grand love of his life.

Gone.

“Be an example, Son.” All these ages later, Trehan had failed utterly. “I have nothing!”

Nowhere even to fucking go.

“NOTHING!” he roared, tearing at his bloodstained hair. I want her, hate her. Go kill the demon. Can’t.

In the ring, Trehan had realized that his vows bound him; like a fool he’d told Bettina that both he and Caspion would survive. Can’t kill . . .

“Trehan!” Viktor appeared in the tent, with Mirceo and Stelian behind him.

Maddened with rage, with loss, Trehan swung around, hungering to fight, didn’t matter against who.

Mirceo raised his brows at Trehan’s appearance. “Our apologies for the interruption, Uncle. Your wedding night will have to wait—”

“What do you three want now?” Trehan thundered. There is no fucking wedding night! His prize, forever gone. “Gods damn it, I thought you were done with me! Why’ve you returned?”

Stelian said, “He’s as frothing at the mouth as you usually are, Viktor. You must field this one.”

“Give me credit,” Viktor snapped. “I’ve been doing much better.” To Trehan, he said, “What the hell has happened to you?”

“I won; I fucking lost everything!” he spat the words. “I am not who I was!”

“What does that mean, Trey? There’s no way you lost the tournament to Caspion.”

“I defeated him. I won, but I lost the prize!” Trehan clasped his forehead, squeezing until his skull threatened to shatter. “Tell me what you’re doing here or leave!”

“You need to calm yourself, Cousin.”

His head whipped up. “Fucking leave!”

“I’ll tell you then,” Mirceo said. “The situation with Lothaire has reached a crisis. He’s been attacked, nearly decapitated. We can’t breach his apartment because of his barrier spell, and his Bride is missing. We must locate her.”

Trehan gave a crazed laugh. “Must you, then?”

Stelian said, “Yet again, there’s a catch.”

All three hesitated before Viktor said, “Elizabeth was likely the one who brandished the sword.”

Lothaire’s Bride had struck out against him? I feel your pain, brother. “I will help him,” Trehan finally bit out. “I will do my godsdamned duty to Dacia!” He leveled his gaze on each of them. “But I want back in. . . .”

Chapter 44

WEEKS LATER

“We’ve come full circle, haven’t we?” Caspion said quietly. He and Bettina had taken their drinks out on the balcony, just as they had the night before the tournament had started.

From here, they could see the tops of the giant trees. Bats jagged in front of the waxing moon. But tonight the scene wasn’t romantic. Instead it was somber.

Seeing those moonraker trees reminded her of the folly she’d shared with Daciano, of perfect acceptance and pleasure. He’d been the ideal male for her. Until suddenly, he wasn’t.

Still, she missed that vampire—with his eyes like the forest, eyes that could turn onyx with desire.

Or with rage.

Now that she’d known true love—hurting, raw, stunning, spectacular love—Bettina wondered how she’d ever thought Cas was the one for her. . . .

She drank deep from her goblet of wine. “It might not feel like it, but I’ve got to believe we’re better off than we were then. Even though we’re both heartsore.”

“Better off?” Cas said. “I suppose. That night before the tournament, I was convinced I was about to die, and you were convinced you were about to wed a Cerunno.” He faced her, his handsome face grave. “But, Tina, things are bad for me here now.”

Her people worshipped strength and battle prowess; they hadn’t been keen on the loser of the match becoming the winner of the tournament. Especially not due to an ancient Sorceri technicality. Especially not when there were rumors of a poisoning.

Strongest equaled greatest. Might maketh right. The Deathly Ones considered the Prince of Shadow to be their king.

Once Cas had healed, he’d gone along with the tournament “win” long enough to accept Bettina’s summoning medallion and the king’s crown of Abaddon. Then he’d turned both of them over to her—along with any claim he had on the throne.

The medallion hung from a lead on her neck, right beside a plain gold wedding band.

She was queen alone in her own right. But her crown, which she’d forged to look like demon horns, sat heavily on her head. . . .

The vampire’s poisoning had rocked the kingdom, with almost everyone suspecting Cas. Though she’d blamed Daciano’s cousins, she’d felt obligated to ask Cas and Raum if they’d had anything to do with it. When they’d denied it, she’d asked Cas, “Then what was his weakness you were going to exploit?”

“His arrogance, Bettina. His overconfidence. I wanted to use his cold-bloodedness against him. I had no idea he’d turn into an animal.”

Just as Morgana had once predicted, Daciano had turned into an unthinking, savage brute.

Salem hinted around that he was on the trail of the real poison culprit: “Update at eleven.” But the sylph could look all he wanted to—he would never reach Dacia. No one could.

Cas said, “You know I can’t stay in Abaddon any longer.”

She admitted, “I thought this is what you wanted to talk about.” From the moment he’d arrived tonight, she’d sensed he was soon to leave. “But I need you here, Cas. You’re one of the few people I can completely trust.” He was part of the ragtag family she’d assembled, along with Raum, Morgana, and even Salem.

“You don’t need me. You’re doing an amazing job.”

“What if we’re to go to war?”

Cas gazed up at the sky. “Do you think the Vrekeners will ever attack?”

She didn’t know. Surely, they would have by now. “In any event, I need a general by my side.” Raum had declined the position, telling her, “I’ll get you settled in, m’girl, but then I want to retire. Maybe learn golf!”

“A general?” Cas scoffed. “They won’t follow me, Bettina. But they’ll follow you.”

Though she had been accepted as queen, in the beginning the reception had been chilly. Basically, her entire populace believed she’d been spurned by two suitors.

Morgana hadn’t been here to advise—the sorceress had disappeared, leaving only a message: “La Dorada risen. Happy Accession.” So Bettina had followed Morgana’s example, holding floor shows every night.

Raum had been instrumental in helping her organize the drunken festivities. Though he hadn’t spoken to her about her situation—other than to offer a few gruff but well-meaning platitudes—he’d devoted himself to