Page 59

“Could every vampire hear Adrian from the garden?”

“Most could hear movement at that distance. Age, feeding and practice make the senses stronger. I could separate Adrian’s breathing from the guards because I knew what I was listening for.”

She considered that while eating a piece of apple. “How fast are you?”

“At full strength, faster than a human eye can follow for a short distance. At the moment, I’m well fed enough to frighten you and chained tightly enough to make the demonstration embarrassing.”

“I’m not frightened.”

“You would be if I moved at you without warning. Speed feels different when a predator uses it in your direction.”

Her expression became serious. “Would you?”

“Never as a game. If I move that quickly near you, there will be danger in the room.”

She nodded and accepted the answer without moving her hand from mine.

Bryony looked at the scarred wrist resting across my knee. “How much blood does healing take?”

“It depends on the wound. The blood you gave me was enough to close old damage and repair what the chains opened today. A broken bone would take more. A wound to my heart would require immediate blood, and losing my heartblood would kill me even if a human offered enough to replace it.”

I turned my wrist so she could see the skin. The cuff had split it to the muscle earlier. A dark red line remained, but the wound had closed.

She leaned down and ran one finger over the mark. “Does being king make you heal faster?”

“Inside Harrowmere, yes. The court won’t let its Blood King die while the title remains his. It kept me alive when Adrian starved me, although it couldn’t stop the pain or give me enough strength to escape.”

Her touch stopped.

I didn’t soften the truth. “Outside the court, I heal like any old vampire. Blood makes the difference.”

“You keep saying old. How old?”

I smiled. “Old enough to know better than answering that while a woman is deciding whether she finds me attractive.”

She pinched the skin beside my scar.

I caught her hand and laughed. “Three hundred and eight.”

Her eyes widened. “You’ve spent more than a third of your life chained to that throne.”

It sounded worse in her voice. “Yes.”

She turned her hand in mine and held on. There was no joke to soften that answer, and she didn’t try to find one.

The fire shifted in the grate. Bryony watched it for a moment before speaking again.

“Sunlight?” she asked. “Do you burn immediately, or have films exaggerated that along with the coffins?”

“Direct sunlight weakens me first. Then it burns. A few minutes won’t kill a healthy vampire, but staying outside would. Right now, after years without enough blood, dawn would be dangerous much sooner.”

Bryony ate the last slice of apple and wiped the juice from her thumb. Concern stayed in her expression, but she didn’t turn the answer into another reason to pity me.

“And the coffin?”

“Uncomfortable, unnecessary and difficult to share.”

Her gaze met mine. “You’re assuming I’d share a bed.”