Bettina supposed that should irritate her, that she should rail at him for being a stalker and hate him even more.

Instead, the realization that she'd had a deadly guard watching over her the entire way was . . . reassuring. "That was your mist. You surrounded me." She'd perceived the cool, comforting embrace of it, but hadn't known what it was. It had blunted her panic attack.

Not all by myself, then. "So you truly can turn into vapor?"

He inclined his head. "All Dacians can. A talent born from a time before we came upon our mountain realm, when the light was too great and the shadows too few."

Before she could ask him more about this, he said, "Were you that nervous about meeting me? Or was it more?"

More, so much more! "I have no idea what you'll demand." And yet she wasn't frightened of what he might do. Again, she felt no trepidation where he was concerned.

He gazed away, looking troubled. "I told you I'd never hurt you. If given leave, I'd do nothing but protect you."

He'd seen her reaction outside; she didn't want him to think he was responsible for that. Not out of concern for him. She simply didn't want the vampire to think he'd intimidated her. "Look, I just don't like to walk alone at night. I might have . . . issues-ones that I don't want to speak of."

Naturally, Trehan wouldn't rest until he was fully versed in these issues. "Your kingdom is secure. Most beings cower before your guardians. Not to mention that you're a sorceress. What issues could you possibly have?"

Her eyes narrowed with irritation. "We're not friends, Daciano. We're not confidantes. Why should I tell you anything about myself? You are a threat to me. You blackmailed me today."

"Unfortunate but necessary." He leaned forward on the edge of the divan, resting his elbows on his knees. "Now back to the subject at hand. You whispered 'Not again' when you thought I was about to hurt you last night."

She glanced away, clearly trying to remember what she'd said.

"Has another vampire touched you?"

"No!"

"A sorcerer then?" he quickly asked, setting away his goblet. "I read that Sorceri constantly battle for powers. Was yours stolen from you?"

"Another subject I don't want to talk about!"

Trehan sensed he was close to the truth, so he pressed on mercilessly. "I also read that your kind consider a root ability akin to one's soul?"

She peered hard into her cup. It shook in her hand. Her expression was a mix of sadness, frustration, and . . . shame.

This fragile creature had been violated like that? Someone had dared steal her power.

He was awash with pure rage-an unfamiliar emotion for him. Give me names, the scantest direction! Yet he leveled his tone when he asked, "What was your root power?"

In a voice just above a whisper, she said, "I was a . . . queen. The Queen of Hearts."

"What could you do?"

"I could make a being's heart stop. For all time. I could make an enemy's chest explode."

"Did you wield it to defend yourself?"

Staring past Trehan, she murmured, "I didn't have time. They dropped from . . . I-I never saw them."

"Them?" More than one? Barely managing to rein in his fury, he bit out, "Direct me to these thieves, and I will slaughter them."

She glanced up at him, clearly startled by his tone.

"No one steals from us, dragă mea."

Bettina felt raw. Trehan Daciano now knew a secret only a handful of others shared. How had he gotten under her skin like that? And why was he so adamant about avenging her? "There is no us, vampire. Again, I'm here under duress."

"Tell me who hurt you."

"You've known me for twenty-four hours. Yet you're willing to wade into danger, risking your life to avenge me?"

"Yes."

"I'm not a vampire. I can't wrap my mind around this spontaneous protectiveness."

"That part is not much different from a demon's mate."

Apparently, I don't get that either.

"Twenty-two years ago, my Bride was born. For two decades she's been without my protection. From what I can glean, that span of years has been treacherous for her. Simply put: someone hurt her-I need to make that being suffer in unspeakable ways."

Daciano's strength and will were nearly palpable, a heady combination. She finally understood why some women were hopelessly attracted to dangerous men. Not that she was. But she could see it.

"Can your power be returned to you?" he asked.

"Morgana has promised to do just that before I wed."

"A condition of this tournament? But isn't she worried about who the victor might be?"

"She doesn't see the horrific ones as . . . horrific. I just know that this tournament is very important to her." Bettina had begun to suspect that there was more to this entire event than she could fathom. Was this a Lore power play, a twist in the great Accession?

Were they all cogs in a wheel? And if so, who was turning the crank?

"Does your godmother possess your power now?"

I'm losing faith that she'll find it. Bettina shrugged.

"So she doesn't. What if I returned it to you?" he asked, his eyes flickering green to onyx once more. Apparently, he was keen on this idea. "And then I could punish those foolish enough to harm you. Give me direction, and they will die bloody."

Die bloody. How tempting. She imagined each of those four Vrekeners squirming on the ground in his own blood, voice hoarse from screams. Would they beg for mercy as she had?

But she had no names, no direction to give Daciano. Besides, she'd never tell the vampire what had happened to her. It wasn't his business-and it was humiliating. "I can't talk . . . I won't talk about it."

"Just tell me-was it a sorcerer who struck against you?"

"I'm under Morgana's protection; no Sorceri would dare. And if a sorcerer had stolen my power, then I'd be an Inferi, a slave." Because of Bettina's halfling lineage, it was possible for her to be both a demon royal-and a Sorceri slave.

"Vrekeners hunt your kind."

"They do. Have forever . . ." she murmured, her thoughts shuttling back to that night.

Early in the attack, the leader had used that scythe of black flames to siphon away her power. She recalled thinking, At least they aren't planning to kill me, wouldn't go to this trouble.

Then she'd remembered: they would steal her sorcery just to prevent it from being reincarnated into a newborn Sorceri upon Bettina's death.

Once the leader had finished stripping her of her power, he'd roared, "Your kind killed my father, crippled my brother forever!" as he'd launched his boot into her face.

She shuddered now, and Daciano noticed.

"You might as well tell me, Bettina. Eventually I will find out."

Refusing to have more of her past laid bare, she inhaled for calm, then attempted to steer the conversation back to the tournament. "You assume you'll be alive that long? You could meet up with Gourlav tomorrow. I heard his blood spawns monsters."

The vampire gave her an indulgent look. "I'll deal with Gourlav when the time comes."

"How can you be so confident? You're not invincible," she said, hoping she sounded natural. If she had to tolerate Daciano's interrogation, she might as well help Cas. "You're not without weaknesses."

"No, I'm not. Nor am I inclined to discuss any with you so you can relay them directly to Caspion."

She flushed guiltily.

"Bettina, you don't have to reveal details, just tell me where to hunt."

A place hidden in the heavens that no demon-or vampire-has ever reached! A place protected from all sorcery! Bettina stood. Enough of this. She set her glass on his desk, then headed toward the door.

"Wait, woman." He traced in front of her, blocking the exit.

"Already I don't want to be here. I don't want to be with you. And you just keep digging."

"At least tell me if you're still in danger."

"That's more digging!"

He inhaled deeply. "I find myself in a position I've never been in before. I'm besieged by . . . instinct. And you are the focus of it."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I need to kill. For unending years, I was naught but death, with no judgment, only duty. But now . . ."

"But now we're done talking about my past, or I'm leaving."

He parted his lips to say something, thought better of it, then said, "Very well." He ushered her back to the divan, handing her drink to her and reclaiming his own. "What would you like to speak of? I'll accommodate you."

"You know more about me than I'd supposed. I know very little about you and your kind."

Another slight frown. "I'm not used to explaining what I am. Unless it's to someone I'm about to kill. And what I have been for over nine hundred years has changed drastically in the last twenty-four hours."

Cas had said that Daciano was at least eight centuries old. But to hear it from the vampire's own lips . . . "You're over forty times my age?"

Had a flush colored his chiseled cheekbones? "Give or take."

"You were-give or take-eight hundred and eighty years old when I was born!"

Voice gone low, he said, "So now you know how very long I've waited for you to come into this world."

Now she felt her cheeks flush. "You said you were a prince. Is your father king of the Dacians?"

"My father's long dead. I'm one of several contenders for the throne." He glanced down at his goblet. "Or I was."

"You really can't return?"

"No."

She almost felt guilt about his loss. Then she remembered she'd never asked him to give up his realm. "But now you intend to be the king of the Abaddonae?"

"I have absolutely no aspirations toward that. Though I understand that co-ruling this plane is expected of me, if I intend to live my life with you."

The vampire made it sound like the crown-which every suitor coveted-was a necessary evil he'd put up with to be with her. Even Cas must desire the throne, if just a little.

Flustered, she fiddled with her mask-her nervous tell. His gaze fixed on her hand. "What weapons have you tonight?" he asked, pointing to the four rings on her right hand. "There must be more to those than meets the eye."

Was it any wonder that her jewelry designs had become so . . . dark? Sometimes she thought she might have gone mad without that creative outlet.

And for some reason, this vampire was intrigued by it.

Her guardians considered her craft demeaning. Caspion scratched his head, unable to understand her compulsion to create.

She remembered the day she'd called a meeting with Raum and Morgana to discuss her education. "I want to learn more about design. And mortals are surprisingly good at it. They use computers and tools I can only dream of here."

"What would you do with this knowledge?" Raum had asked. "Continue with your hobby?"

Chapter 19

"It's no hobby. I've been commissioning my pieces here and there to acquaintances. But I'm thinking bigger. I want to sell them . . . I want to sell them on the open market!"

They'd looked at her as if she'd grown two heads.

"Become a tradesman?" Morgana had hissed.

Bettina had corrected her: "A tradesperson. . . ."

Now, in a coaxing tone, the vampire said, "Come, Bett, show me what weapon I'll encounter tonight if I displease you." Was there a hint of a smile on those grim lips of his?

"Fine." She demonstrated how the rings interlocked to form brass knuckles.

He gently grasped her fingertips, holding her hand to examine the rings thoroughly. At the contact, some kind of electric charge passed through her, like a bolt of . . . anticipation.

He must have felt something too. His voice was huskier when he asked, "You devised this yourself?"

"Yes." She stiffened, drawing her hand away. "All by my little self." Why were others always so surprised by this?

"It's clever."

Chin raised, she said, "I can see a problem and visualize a solution."

"What design are you working on now?"

"A commissioned piece."

"You sell your work?"

She bristled. "What of it?"

"I have a niece who is obsessed with weapons. She would love to have something like this."

"You want to commission a piece?"

"Absolutely. And then I'd insist on watching you work."

Bettina blinked at him. "You really are interested?"

"I'm a weapons master. You create weapons. I think it's fascinating."

"You don't have a problem with your Bride being in trade? It's not exactly decorous. I thought an old-fashioned vampire like you would want me to quit."

"Though I'll be loath to let you out of our bed for any reason, I'd never try to restrict something you enjoy."

Another fitful adjustment of her mask. Let me out of bed?

"And as for the trade stigma, I've lived my life obeying the rules, enforcing the rules. I cast off that rigid existence to be with you. Perhaps the beauty of being a queen is that you get to do whatever you like."

"I'm not naive." I might be naive. "I know that's not how the world works."

"Then change the world."

The world? She could barely change the subject.

"For now, let's discuss this commission," he said.

"How would you even get the gift to your niece?"

"Not easily. She never leaves the kingdom, so I'd have to send it through another one of my family. I'm not shunned by them all. Well, not exactly. Let's just say that I suspect I haven't seen the last of the Dacianos." There seemed to be a wealth of emotion in that statement, but she couldn't decipher it. Relief? Grief? "When will you finish the piece you're working on now?"

She mumbled, "Probably sometime after I actually start it. Which should occur after I figure out what to create."

That hint of a grin teased his lips once more.