“Yes. In just a few minutes.”
He raced to the door, then stood, shoulders straight while the sorcerer bowed to him. Davey marched out, her little soldier, leaving Midir to shut the door behind him.
“Your Majesty. My lady.”
“Rise.” Lilith gave a careless wave of the hand. “As you see, the prince is prepared. Are you?”
He stood, his habitual black robes whispering with the movement. His face was hard and handsome, framed by his flowing mane of silver hair. Eyes, rich and black, met Lilith’s cool blue.
“He will be protected.” Midir glanced toward the large chest at the foot of the bed, and the silver pot that stood opened on it. “You used the potion, as I instructed.”
“I did, and it’s your life, Midir, if it fails.”
“It will not fail. It, and the chant I will use, will shield him from wood and steel for three hours. He will be as safe as he would be in your arms, Majesty.”
“If not, I’ll kill you myself, as unpleasantly as possible. And to make certain of it, you’ll go with us on this hunt.”
She saw, for just a moment, both surprise and annoyance on his face. Then he bowed his head, and spoke meekly. “At your command.”
“Yes. Report to Lucius. He’ll see you mounted.” She turned away in dismissal.
“You shouldn’t worry.” Lora crossed to Lilith, slipped her arms around her. “Midir knows it’s his life if any harm comes to our sweet boy. Davey needs this, Lilith. He needs the exercise, the entertainment. And he needs to show off a bit.”
“I know, I know. He’s restless and bored. I can’t blame him. It’ll be fine, just fine,” she said as much to assure herself. “I’ll be right there with him.”
“Let me go. Change your mind and let me go with you.”
Lilith shook her head, brushed a kiss over Lora’s abused cheek. “You’re not ready for a hunt. You’re still weak, sweetheart, and I won’t risk you.” She took Lora’s arms, gripped tight. “I need you on Samhain—fighting, killing, gorging. On that night, when we’ve flooded that valley with blood, taken what’s ours by right, I want you and Davey at my side.”
“I hate the wait almost as much as Davey.”
Lilith smiled. “I’ll bring you back a present from tonight’s little game.”
Davey rode pinion with Lilith through the moon-struck night. He’d wanted to ride his own pony, but his mama had explained that it wasn’t fast enough. He liked going fast, feeling the wind, flying toward the hunt and the kill. It was the most exciting night he could remember.
It was even better than the present she’d given him on his third birthday when she’d taken him through the summer night to a Boy Scout camping ground. And that had been such fun! The screaming and the running and the crying. The chomp, chomp, chomping.
It was better than hunting the humans in the caves, or burning a vampire who’d been bad. It was better than anything he could remember.
His memories of his human family were vague. There were times he woke from a dream and for a moment was in a bedroom with pictures of race cars on the walls and blue curtains at the windows. There were monsters in the closet of the bedroom, and he cried until she came.
She had brown hair and brown eyes.
Sometimes he would come in, too, the tall man with the scratchy face. He’d chase the monsters away, and she would sit and stroke his hair until he fell asleep again.
If he tried very hard, he could remember splashing in the water, and the feel of the wet sand going gooshy under his feet and the man laughing as the waves splashed them.
Then he wasn’t laughing, he was screaming. And he was shouting: Run! Run, Davey, run!
But he didn’t try very hard, very often.
It was more fun to think about hunting and playing. His mo
ther let him have one of the humans for a toy, if he was very, very good. He liked best the way they smelled when they were afraid, and the sounds they made when he started to feed.
He was a prince, and could do anything he wanted. Almost.
He would show his mother tonight that he was a big boy now. Then there would be no more almost.