Page 150 of The Crown’s Temptation

He stood over the bed.

He put his hand flat on it. Cool. Nothing under the cotton but cotton.

His vision blurred. The hum had quieted. It had not gone.

He got back into the clean bed and lay on his side with his knees drawn up like something much younger than he was.

He would sleep. When he woke it would make sense.

Lost

DALI

She was back in her room before the blood had finished drying.

She pulled the glass vial from beneath the mattress and held it to the lantern. Blue-green, thick, filling the glass almost to the top. She examined it carefully. It was now almost full.

Normally she would have consumed every bit of strength she pulled from him. Instead, for weeks, she had been saving it.

She smiled.

Maridale stirred somewhere beneath the surface. The usual. The admonishment forming before it could get anywhere. Dali did not let it get anywhere. She was stronger tonight than she had been in months and Maridale knew it and that was why she was stirring, not because she had anything useful to say but because strength made her nervous.

It should.

Dali set the vial down and went to the washroom.

She was covered in blood. More blood than skin showing on her legs, already dried in the short time it had taken to walk from Teorin's chambers to hers. A Siren could heal easily. The blood was not a problem. She began scrubbing.

She had gone to him tonight intending something simpler. Give him release. Feed. Walk away. The same as any other night. But then she had felt it, the darkness in him, the desire to hurt the things he could not have. The anger and attraction he carried for Asharin had made him careless and the more he gave the more Dali had taken and she had not stopped until she knew with certainty that today would be the day that the vial was finally full.

If I cannot love, none of you can either.

She scrubbed her legs and thought about Teorin's face and found it easy not to feel sorry for him.

The vial was enough now. Anything more she took from him would be purely for amusement and she was not certain she had the patience for it. She had what she needed.

The amulet was in the Vault. The Vaultline was difficult for a Saren. Easier for a feeder. Better for a king. Best for a Rathmor king. She was none of those things. But what she had collected in that vial was almost as good. Better. It did not involve sweat or feelings or blood that was not already on her legs.

She rinsed the cloth and wrung it out and stared at the water.

She thought about how long ago it had been since any of this started. Since she and Maridale had had something that resembled a life. She had a man she loved. Not a prince, not a king. Veynar-born, calm and easygoing. He was the sort of person who walked into a room and made it quieter and more pleasant without trying. He had made everything pleasant. More than pleasant, in fact.

She had told him she was going to Yorali and did not know when she would return.

He had followed her. Found a position at the Yorali palace as a guard. He had stood outside doors and escorted royals through corridors and spent his evenings with her.

Sarens did not love. It was rare enough to be almost mythological. And yet.

She had not wanted to be in Yorali at all. But Maridale was pregnant and Maridale needed Tamal and Tamal was in Yorali and so there they were.

Tamal wanted to marry Maridale. Orsin said no. Vaelor blood, yes. Legitimacy unverified. Weak. He said it more than once. Each time Maridale absorbed it and went back to Tamal's bed and Dali absorbed it alongside her and said nothing because there were larger problems and Tamal was not worth the headache.

The final time he said no Maridale could not accept it.

She left Tamal in bed one morning and walked to the throne room and waited for hours until it was her turn.

The room was full when she entered. Guards. Wives. Seers. Advisors. A woman with dark hair stepped forward before Orsin could acknowledge Maridale. A circlet on her forehead, pale gold eyes, the posture of a princess.