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amber wings fluttered, and her skin glowed softly in the dim light. Demidicus’s gaze raked over her as if he were seeing her for the first time. Sylas had a sudden urge to remove the vamp’s head from his body.

“It’s been centuries since we’ve had a fairy here.” His dark eyes turned hungry, his fangs growing long in his mouth.

“My people prefer the sun.” Dianthe leaned forward a little more and her dress puckered, giving Sylas and the master a delicious view of her cleavage. That was it. He indulged in a fantasy of wrapping her in his jacket and carrying her back to their room.

“So I’ve heard.” His nostrils flared. He dragged his eyes from her, turning his attention back to Sylas just in time to calm the jealous fury rising within him.

“Even if I believed you, what do you expect from Nochtbend? We cannot openly support the rebellion, not with the tentative peace between our kingdoms.”

Sylas shook his head. “I’m not asking you to. All we need from you is the orb on your scepter.” He pointed to the red crystal ball resting beside the master.

Demidicus scoffed. “Now I know this is a joke.”

“It contains a piece of a key that can be used to unlock a weapon with the power to bring Eleanor down. The witch queen of Darnuith divided the key and hid one piece in every kingdom. Her descendants have joined the Defenders of the Goddess. The three sisters can leverage the power the witch queen left behind to take back our world from Eleanor, but we need every piece to access it.”

A shadow passed behind Demidicus’s dark eyes, and he leaned back in his chair. “I knew her, the witch queen. Her name was Medea. So many centuries have passed now that her memory feels like a ghost who haunts my heart.”

Sylas glanced at Tobias, who looked just as confused as he was. He’d known Demidicus was ancient, but he hadn’t realized that Nochtbend was involved in any way in the witch wars.

“It surprises you that we were once friends? Oh, there were many secrets then. In many ways, Eleanor and Brynhoff got lucky. Had Medea and Tavyss not craved peace, those two would have never gotten close enough to slay them.”

He hadn’t known the details, but his mother truly was the most manipulative liar he’d ever met. Medea and Tavyss lost to her because they had souls. They had limits. They wanted to preserve lives. Eleanor had no such boundaries. The only thing Eleanor cared about was Eleanor.

“You’d remember Medea if you’d had the chance to meet her. Magic surrounded her, filled her to the point it spilled over to an inch outside her skin. The day she came here, asking for my help, she made my heart beat.” Demidicus stared wistfully out across the hall.

Sylas saw something in the vampire’s eyes he’d never expected. Demidicus loved Medea, as much as a vampire could love anything. It was all there in the way his face softened as he thought of her.

“What did she ask of you?” Sylas asked.

Demidicus’s eyebrow rose, and the corner of his mouth quirked. “She asked me to guard this”—he gestured toward the orb—“with my life. She said one day someone would come for it and know its purpose. I suppose that someone is you.”

“Please. I understand that Nochtbend can’t risk getting on Eleanor’s bad side, but if you give us the orb, I promise you we will do our best to end her reign of terror for good,” Sylas said.

The vampire placed his hand on the orb and left it there. “Hmm. Time to eat.”

Servants flooded the hall with boxes of piglets. Squeals and screams echoed off the walls as the vampires captured their prey and bit into their dinner. Sylas glanced at Dianthe, who’d paled, her eyes fixating on a spot on the tablecloth. She looked like she might be sick.

A cooked suckling pig landed in front of them. He appreciated the effort, but the thought of eating piglet after watching the bloody display in the hall turned his stomach.

Demidicus waved away the live piglet that was offered to him. “I will give you the orb, but in exchange, I want to taste her blood.”

“What? Whose blood?” Sylas narrowed his eyes on the vampire.

The man’s dark gaze flicked up to meet his. “Your mate’s.”

Sylas’s growl garnered the attention of the vampires nearest them, who hissed in warning. The din of eating in the room quieted by half.

“Careful, dragon. Mind your manners or it will be more than the orb you leave here without, if you leave here at all.”

“Do not threaten a dragon’s mate,” Sylas warned.

“I did not threaten her. I only asked for a sip of her blood. You could extract it. I don’t need it from the vein. It has been three hundred years since I’ve tasted fairy blood. It tastes of sunlight, you understand. A delicacy for a vampire.”

Dianthe tugged at his elbow. “It’s okay, Sylas. If it will get us the orb—”

“You’d rather have dragon’s blood,” Sabrina said from his other side.

“The champion speaks. What was that?” He flashed her a wolfish grin.

“I said dragon’s blood is better. Have you ever had dragon’s blood?” Sabrina asked, her eyes sparkling as if she had a tightly held secret. She already knew the answer. Sylas vividly remembered Demidicus mentioning he’d never tasted dragon’s blood when they were in the arena.

“Have you ever tasted dragon’s blood?” The master chuckled as if the idea was preposterous. “It is forbidden, an act of war between our species. I have lived a long time, child, but even I have never convinced a dragon to give me his blood, and I have never had the opportunity to take it.”

She raised her eyebrow, her red hair falling in a curtain over one of her eyes. “Yes, I have tasted it. After all, I am mated to a dragon. You do know a dragon will do anything for his mate.”

Demidicus’s gaze darted between

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