Page 24 of Dhampira

“Majesty,” Vander said.

“Majesty,” the vampires echoed at my back.

The man stopped before me—young everywhere but his eyes. No one looking in his eyes would ever call him young.

Green eyes. Ancient and knowing. The same shade I’d seen every time I looked in the mirror or a window or the still surface of a pond.

He was a powerful nobleman in King Rasimir’s court.

Your father seeks you. I’ll take you to him.

Had I known all this time?

Had I known from the beginning?

Kindred. And kin.

“Corinthe,” King Rasimir said, a catch in his voice. He stared at me like he’d just discovered something rare and precious. He drew a shuddering breath, and a hopeful smile chased the weight of age from his eyes. He looked down. I followed his gaze and held my breath as he took my hand and tangled our fingers together.

We looked up at the same time. He gave a watery laugh, joy gleaming in his eyes.

“Daughter.”

6

Mama lied.

The words pounded in my head as I trailed King Rasimir—no, my father—through a maze of elegant passageways dripping with obvious wealth. The Drakhold might have looked like a dark and menacing fortress from the outside, but the inside sparkled as brightly as the rest of Nocta. The floors were black marble, and the walls were made of some kind of glossy, reflective stone veined with gold. Every few steps, a gilt-framed mirror or vibrant painting hung between candle sconces that glowed with shimmering white orbs.

The vampires who’d greeted us in the courtyard had melted away as soon as we moved into the fortress, but Vander followed at our heels.

He’d lied, too—or at least he hadn’t been completely honest. He’d been careful, talking around the truth as skillfully as someone performing a dance.

What’s my father’s name? Why didn’t he seek me out before now?

That’s his story to tell.

He serves King Rasimir?

All of Nocta serves the king.

I tried to catch Vander’s eye in the mirrors, but he kept his gaze straight ahead, his russet hair glinting in the soft, glowing light.

Double doors loomed in front of us. They swung open at our approach, and Rasimir led us into a large, glittering room filled with plush furniture positioned around ornate carpets. Like the corridors, the walls were adorned with mirrors and artwork. Fires crackled in enormous hearths on either end of the room.

A man rose from one of the sofas as we entered. He was alone, his unadorned black clothes a stark contrast to the opulence around him. The same tingling rush of awareness I’d experienced outside told me he was a vampire. But even if my instincts hadn’t alerted me to his nature, I would have known what he was. Everything about him screamed predator, from his lean, muscled build to his dark, liquid eyes fringed by thick lashes. His hair was pulled back in a queue, showcasing a jaw as square as Vander’s. Unlike Vander’s, this man’s face held no trace of stubble. His cheeks were smooth, his features as beautiful as one of the paintings on the wall.

He inclined his head as Rasimir stopped before him. My father turned to me with an indulgent look.

“Corinthe, this is Prince Lorcan.”

My heart stuttered. Prince? I looked from Rasimir to the dark-haired man, who still bowed his head. “My brother?”

Rasimir laughed. “No. I have but one child, my dear.” His smile warmed his green eyes. “And it brings me immeasurable joy to finally have you here, in the bosom of your people.”

Awkwardness stole over me, my Derryton upbringing leaving me at a loss in the face of such formal speech. “Thank you…Majesty.”

Something flickered in Rasimir’s eyes, the emotion smothered so quickly I couldn’t decipher it. “You must call me Father. It might be an adjustment for you, but it’s important for my subjects to accept you as quickly as possible.” His eyes warmed again. “And I confess that I long to hear it on your pretty lips.” He looked at Prince Lorcan. “She is pretty, isn’t she, Lorcan?”