Shadow's Claim

he’d lashed out at his cousins, Trehan included.

At one point, Lothaire had clawed his own heart out of his chest and sent it to Elizabeth in a box.

Trehan laid his book aside and rose. “What does he want now?”

Of all the cousins, Trehan understood Lothaire best—because I’m dancing at the edge of sanity myself. Kosmina, however, liked Lothaire best. She thought he was exciting and misunderstood and believed his love affair with Elizabeth was the stuff of legend. “He’s summoned you to court.”

“Has he, then?” Like some common subject. It rankled. Twice over, Trehan could have been a king. Now he regretted not seizing this throne.

Kosmina nodded brightly. “I told him I’d bring you straight away.”

Straight away? Suddenly Trehan found himself in the mood for a leisurely stroll.

“You’re walking?” she asked. “May I go with you?”

“I don’t think I’m good company, but I don’t object.”

Once they’d exited the library and started along a misty cobblestone street, Kosmina said, “Wait till you see the castle, Uncle. Queen Elizabeth has been busy!” His niece was delighted by all the changes in their realm. As she’d told Trehan, “We don’t have to hate each other anymore! I can visit you without worrying if my brother will try to kill you for it.”

For eons, the great black castle had lain empty with echoing halls. No longer. Ever since Lothaire and Elizabeth had reconciled and begun their new rule, it had been in a continual state of upheaval.

As soon as Trehan and Kosmina made their way through the castle’s towering gold doors, they were met with chaos.

Servants flitted all around them, tracing furniture and decorations. Some mongrel-looking canine chased them, baying with impatience. A vividly decorated Christmas tree stood in each alcove.

“Elizabeth said we’ll have ‘Christmas’ year-round and decorate with only the choicest adornments!” Kosmina explained. “I don’t know what Cracker Barrel is, but its wares are of great importance to our queen.”

As Trehan took in the mayhem surrounding him, he wondered how Bettina would view the scene. What would she see? What could her beautiful eyes alone descry?

There was no higher sensibility inside Trehan—he’d needed her for that.

“You grieve for her,” Kosmina said softly.

He stiffened. “I’ve told you I don’t want to discuss this with you.”

She and Elizabeth had been haranguing him to return for his Bride.

He hadn’t been able tell them that Bettina loved another, had found it impossible to utter the words: My Bride chose a demon over me. My Bride nearly broke me with her duplicity. My mind is not well, and I don’t know how to fix it.

In a wry tone, Kosmina said, “I’d tell you I won’t bring it up again, Uncle, but it would be a lie.”

“The situation’s complicated. One day I’ll explain it.” When you’re three hundred years old. Changing the subject, he said, “Any idea what Lothaire wants?”

“None. But he’s lucid today,” she said happily.

The last time Lothaire had appeared even remotely so, Trehan had attempted to give the king an overview of the family and the houses, outlining the last three millennia of their secret history.

“Five houses?” Lothaire had sneered, cutting Trehan off. “You all live under one roof now. Mine. Because I’m the king of the castle.” Then his red eyes had grown vacant, and he’d begun muttering about “Lizvetta’s lingerie.”

Trehan had been . . . underwhelmed by the Enemy of Old’s attention span.

Now Trehan said to Kosmina, “Even when he’s lucid, Lothaire doesn’t exactly personify the traits of his house.” He was descended from the king’s line, the most ancient one, known for its wisdom.

Wisdom? Lothaire couldn’t be bothered even to hear about his vaunted house.

“Every day he gets better, Uncle! And guess what else. Lothaire and Elizabeth want me to journey . . . outside.”

“Pardon?”

“He wants me to undertake a mission for the kingdom.”

“What kind of mission?”

“To infiltrate a covey of nymphs in a place called Louisiana!” she said in a breathless voice. “I don’t know exactly why. He just said the task would be ‘eye-opening’ for someone like me.”

Infiltrate a covey? Over my dead body. Kosmina would perish of shock before the plague ever touched her.

In addition to all his faults, their new king had a twisted sense of humor. “We’ll discuss this later.” Again, when you’re three hundred. His voice must have been harsh because she paled.

Anger always at the ready, Trehan? Striving for an even tone, he said, “There’s no need to rush into these things, Kosmina. One change at a time, then?”

“Oh. Of course, Uncle.” Wisely, she didn’t press the subject.

At the great entrance to the court, she gave him an encouraging nod, then traced away.

When Trehan entered the enormous space, Lothaire was sitting in his throne with Elizabeth upon his lap—she rarely sat in her own, a feminine version of Lothaire’s.

The new king had scrapped the ancient and revered thrones of their forebears and designed new ones. Each was decorated with gold-dipped skulls, only Elizabeth’s skulls were “daintier.”

The two regents were sickeningly in love. As usual, they were deep in conversation, taking little notice of the world around them; Lothaire stroked her bottom lip with his thumb, while she brushed his light hair from his forehead.

Can’t touch each other enough. Trehan had been that way with Bettina.

Though Lothaire had proved difficult, Elizabeth was intelligent, amusing, and friendly. She was already learning Dacian and had taken her new immortality in stride. She also kept Lothaire in check.

Just yesterday he’d announced to the court that he would like to “go kill something. Anything!”

Running her forefinger over his chest, Elizabeth had purred in her mountain accent, “Let’s go kill time, baby. In our bedroom.”

Lothaire’s eyes had flashed red, and he’d traced her away in an instant.

Now he told her, “The question remains . . . do we open the gates of Dacia?” He yearned to announce Dacia’s presence to the Lore. In one of his bouts of madness, he’d railed, “A king of a kingdom no one fucking knows about! I’m the tree in the forest that silently falls—when no one is around to be crushed!”

Lothaire looped both arms around her, tucking her even closer to him. “I want your opinion, Lizvetta.”

“You’re only askin’ ’cause you’re afraid I’ll cut off your head again.”

“Just so. But I also like how your tricky mind works.”

“I think we should have a soft opening,” she said. “You know, like they do with fancy restaurants.”

He tapped his chin with a black claw. “Soft opening. Yes.”

“We could keep folks, I don’t know, quarantined when they come in. Make sure that vampire plague doesn’t hitch a ride inside.”

In a move that would have pulverized Elizabeth as a mortal, Lothaire yanked her even tighter to his chest. “My wise little hellbilly.”

“Shut it, Leo.” She’d nicknamed him that, an acronym for his name. He was one of the most feared fiends in all the Lore—and yet she ribbed him with ease.

Lothaire, in turn, loved it.

They were about to kiss when Trehan cleared his throat.

“Ah, Cousin Trehan.” Though Lothaire’s red eyes were uncanny, today he looked rational—and very cunning.

“I’ll let you two boys chat.” Elizabeth extricated herself from his arms, earning a growl of displeasure. “And once you’re done, Leo, come on up and see me.” She winked and began sauntering toward the exit; like a male possessed, Lothaire rose to follow her.

Then, making a visible effort to restrain himself, he sat once more. “I know what you’re thinking, Cousin.