Page 135 of Dhampira

Lorcan nodded. “In the moment, yes. But if she used dismenti, you wouldn’t remember it.”

The chill in my bones sank deeper. “You can speak the vor for forgetfulness. That means you’ve used it before.”

“We need to go,” Vander said.

Lorcan took my hand and led me away from the fountain, his gaze straight ahead. “It was a long time ago. Like truth, the gift is difficult to find.”

“Rix,” Vander said, and the forest reappeared.

27

When we returned to the Drakhold, the castle was subdued. And when Yuliette announced that the king wanted me for dinner, I assumed I was on the menu.

Those suspicions intensified as I faced Lorcan across the empty dining room table. A fire roared in the hearth. Someone had replaced the carpet in front of it.

Vander stood in his usual spot inside the doorway, his face blank and his silver gaze locked on some indistinct point behind me. He’d knocked on my door an hour ago, bowed, and escorted me to the dining room, his only words a murmured, “Good evening, Your Highness.”

Rasimir sat at the head of the table. He appeared lost in thought, his green eyes unfocused. The dining room didn’t have a clock, but I imagined it ticking anyway, the seconds counting down until something, anything, happened.

Lorcan was as still as Vander, his hands resting on the arms of his chair. I’d waited in vain for him to speak in my mind—to offer instructions or reassurance. But he was silent.

I didn’t trust myself to catch his eye. Something in my face would give me away. Give Rasimir a reason to finally kill me.

Tick. Tock.

The silence stretched. The fire crackled. In the corner of my vision, Rasimir was as motionless as the statues outside.

Tick. Tock.

My heartbeat thudded in my ears. Maybe dinner was late. Any moment, servants would enter with platters of food and glasses of blood-wine. I let the vision play out, images of roasted meat and baskets of fresh bread spreading before me.

Duncan Bagley’s flushed face replaced the bread. Brown sauce pooled in the cut on his lip as he looked down at his bandaged hand with a bewildered expression.

Vomit burned my throat.

Tick. Tock.

The fire snapped. My vision blurred, Lorcan’s head a dark blob against the red upholstery of his chair.

“Family makes a man rich,” Rasimir said.

I jerked, barely managing to smother my gasp as I swung my head toward him.

He returned my regard with an easy smile and something that might have been wistfulness in his eyes. “Most people long for money and power. In their minds, no one could have more of these things than a king.” Leaning toward me, he lifted a finger. “But I’ll tell you a secret, Daughter. No one is richer than a man who loves his family. By that measure, even the lowest pauper can set himself above a king.”

The fire danced behind him, the writhing flames as erratic as my heartbeat. I’d never needed Lorcan in my head more than I did now. But he didn’t speak, and I didn’t dare look at him.

Rasimir straightened, his expression darkening as he gazed down the table. “Discovering the Resistance among my own people has shown me to be a fool. Word will spread. Soon, every corner of Nocta will know a spy infiltrated the Drakhold. The gossips will talk of how the caladrius orchestrated an attack the night we sought to celebrate adding another member to our family.”

I stole a glance at Lorcan, who watched Rasimir with his usual cool detachment. All that time in the Everless, and we’d never spoken of what to do in the event Rasimir turned on us. We should have planned. But I could guess what Lorcan’s answer would be.

You need a mirror. Your face gives you away.

Rasimir pushed back his chair and stood. When Lorcan and I immediately followed suit, he looked between us.

“It’s clear to me now that our enemies fear our wealth and power. They seek to stop us from amassing true riches. Family. Children.”

My gut clenched.