Bound by Flames (Night Prince 3)

I was in the hidden cellar beneath my house, glaring at the woman who was cradling her baby while desperately trying to shush it. I’d told her to leave the child upstairs, where it could have been explained as one of the servants’ children, but she’d snuck it down here instead. When the child’s whimper became louder, one of the runaway slaves moaned.

“They gonna hear us,” she whispered. “They gonna kill us!”

“Shh!” I hissed, but she was right.

This patrol was known for their brutality, and the slaves huddled in the small, dank cellar beneath my house had all fled after a plantation rebellion had left several of their white masters dead. No one would care about the cruelties the slaves had endured before the uprising, or whether or not these runaways had actually participated in the killings. No, their blood would flow because they had been in the vicinity when white blood was spilled, and whoever died fast would be considered lucky.

The child whimpered again and sucked in a breath as if filling up for a full-fledged wail. I looked at the terrified people I’d sworn to protect, several of whom were children, too. All were doomed once that baby’s wail reached the patrol’s ears, and in that single, frozen second, I made my choice.

I had been born free. They hadn’t, and they deserved the same chances I’d had. I forced back the sob that tried to claw out of my throat as I ran toward the baby. If my life would be the only one lost, I’d gladly let the child’s forthcoming squall lead the patrol here. But if they found us, everyone would die . . . unless I damned myself by ensuring that all except one lived. My heart felt like it exploded from anguish when I cut off the burgeoning cry the baby made by clamping my hand over the child’s mouth . . .

I slammed back into the present, the charred walls of the tomb replacing the packed earth of the underground cellar where Marie had hidden the runaway slaves. I was horrified by what I’d relived even as my heart broke, still feeling the same pain Marie had felt when she did that awful, unimaginable act because she’d lived in an awful, unimaginable time when people of her color didn’t even have the right to live, let alone have any expectation of hope, justice, or mercy.

“What did you see?” Her voice vibrated with command.

I didn’t repeat her terrible act. Instead, I said the name she’d branded her soul with so she’d never forget the crime that had saved twenty-two lives by forever silencing one.

“Louise,” I whispered.

She flinched at the baby’s name, the pain in her gaze echoing the one I felt from the remainder of my link to her worst sin. Then, shockingly, her demeanor changed from a woman haunted by her past to a gracious Southern hostess again.

“Well. Since your abilities are real, it seems we each have something the other wants, don’t we, Tepesh?”

Vlad’s smile was filled with so much deadly intent; I found myself edging away out of pure primal instinct.

“Yes, we do. You can start by giving me the names of sorcerers strong enough to dabble in necromancy, and I’ll finish by having Leila psychically read anyone whose darkest secret you simply must know.”

Chapter 28

When Jacques closed the gates of the cemetery behind us, I was still overwhelmed. Marie had taken a rain check on having me read people for her, but that didn’t make me feel better. If she wanted time to think about who she was selecting, then she was really going for the gold, and who knew what the repercussions of that would be? Still, she’d given us valuable information, and if we didn’t defeat Szilagyi and get this curse off me, we wouldn’t be around to worry about owing Marie a future debt.

We were halfway back to our hotel before I could form questions about the most basic parts of tonight’s visit. “Why didn’t you tell me before we went that you thought Marie might be the necromancer who cast the spell on me?”

Vlad glanced at me with amusement. “Because you’re even worse at hiding your emotions than you are at lying.”

True, but . . . “If you suspected her, why bring me with you?”

“Backup,” he stated. At my questioning expression, he went on. “When Marie grants a meeting, she has specific terms. Only the person requesting it may attend, and that person is guaranteed safe passage to and from the meeting, which is why I didn’t bring any of my guards. If, however, Marie was the necromancer, then I was going to kill her, but to do so, I needed you. As my wife, you are the only person allowed to go anywhere that I do, and also the only person who could have withstood Marie.”

“Me? You’re the one who could kill her in one-point-eight seconds. All I did was stand there and make a light show out of my hand.”

He smiled slyly. “I can kill her that quickly now, since we shook hands to conclude our meeting, but before that, I’d never touched her.”

I stared at him, some part urging me to close my gaping mouth, but the other too stunned to care.

“You lied to her?” I finally got out.

He shrugged. “I inferred. She didn’t remember that I’d met her before with Gregor when she was human, which was true. However, I didn’t touch her. I am very particular about that, as you know, though it’s a fortunate for us that she does not.”

“That’s not inferring, that’s bluffing!”

His grin was almost feral. “About touching her? Yes. About killing her? No. If she’d cast that spell, I would have made it across the room to burn her, Remnant attack or no Remnant attack. On the slight chance that I couldn’t, you were there.” in the hidden cellar beneath my house, glaring at the woman who was cradling her baby while desperately trying to shush it. I’d told her to leave the child upstairs, where it could have been explained as one of the servants’ children, but she’d snuck it down here instead. When the child’s whimper became louder, one of the runaway slaves moaned.

“They gonna hear us,” she whispered. “They gonna kill us!”

“Shh!” I hissed, but she was right.

This patrol was known for their brutality, and the slaves huddled in the small, dank cellar beneath my house had all fled after a plantation rebellion had left several of their white masters dead. No one would care about the cruelties the slaves had endured before the uprising, or whether or not these runaways had actually participated in the killings. No, their blood would flow because they had been in the vicinity when white blood was spilled, and whoever died fast would be considered lucky.

The child whimpered again and sucked in a breath as if filling up for a full-fledged wail. I looked at the terrified people I’d sworn to protect, several of whom were children, too. All were doomed once that baby’s wail reached the patrol’s ears, and in that single, frozen second, I made my choice.

I had been born free. They hadn’t, and they deserved the same chances I’d had. I forced back the sob that tried to claw out of my throat as I ran toward the baby. If my life would be the only one lost, I’d gladly let the child’s forthcoming squall lead the patrol here. But if they found us, everyone would die . . . unless I damned myself by ensuring that all except one lived. My heart felt like it exploded from anguish when I cut off the burgeoning cry the baby made by clamping my hand over the child’s mouth . . .

I slammed back into the present, the charred walls of the tomb replacing the packed earth of the underground cellar where Marie had hidden the runaway slaves. I was horrified by what I’d relived even as my heart broke, still feeling the same pain Marie had felt when she did that awful, unimaginable act because she’d lived in an awful, unimaginable time when people of her color didn’t even have the right to live, let alone have any expectation of hope, justice, or mercy.

“What did you see?” Her voice vibrated with command.

I didn’t repeat her terrible act. Instead, I said the name she’d branded her soul with so she’d never forget the crime that had saved twenty-two lives by forever silencing one.

“Louise,” I whispered.

She flinched at the baby’s name, the pain in her gaze echoing the one I felt from the remainder of my link to her worst sin. Then, shockingly, her demeanor changed from a woman haunted by her past to a gracious Southern hostess again.

“Well. Since your abilities are real, it seems we each have something the other wants, don’t we, Tepesh?”

Vlad’s smile was filled with so much deadly intent; I found myself edging away out of pure primal instinct.

“Yes, we do. You can start by giving me the names of sorcerers strong enough to dabble in necromancy, and I’ll finish by having Leila psychically read anyone whose darkest secret you simply must know.”

Chapter 28

When Jacques closed the gates of the cemetery behind us, I was still overwhelmed. Marie had taken a rain check on having me read people for her, but that didn’t make me feel better. If she wanted time to think about who she was selecting, then she was really going for the gold, and who knew what the repercussions of that would be? Still, she’d given us valuable information, and if we didn’t defeat Szilagyi and get this curse off me, we wouldn’t be around to worry about owing Marie a future debt.

We were halfway back to our hotel before I could form questions about the most basic parts of tonight’s visit. “Why didn’t you tell me before we went that you thought Marie might be the necromancer who cast the spell on me?”

Vlad glanced at me with amusement. “Because you’re even worse at hiding your emotions than you are at lying.”

True, but . . . “If you suspected her, why bring me with you?”

“Backup,” he stated. At my questioning expression, he went on. “When Marie grants a meeting, she has specific terms. Only the person requesting it may attend, and that person is guaranteed safe passage to and from the meeting, which is why I didn’t bring any of my guards. If, however, Marie was the necromancer, then I was going to kill her, but to do so, I needed you. As my wife, you are the only person allowed to go anywhere that I do, and also the only person who could have withstood Marie.”

“Me? You’re the one who could kill her in one-point-eight seconds. All I did was stand there and make a light show out of my hand.”

He smiled slyly. “I can kill her that quickly now, since we shook hands to conclude our meeting, but before that, I’d never touched her.”

I stared at him, some part urging me to close my gaping mouth, but the other too stunned to care.

“You lied to her?” I finally got out.

He shrugged. “I inferred. She didn’t remember that I’d met her before with Gregor when she was human, which was true. However, I didn’t touch her. I am very particular about that, as you know, though it’s a fortunate for us that she does not.”

“That’s not inferring, that’s bluffing!”

His grin was almost feral. “About touching her? Yes. About killing her? No. If she’d cast that spell, I would have made it across the room to burn her, Remnant attack or no Remnant attack. On the slight chance that I couldn’t, you were there.”