chamber did the excited lycans pour into the corridor outside, jostling one another in their haste to get to the great hall. Fresh meat was a rare treat for their kind, and they were already drooling at the prospect.
Lucian did not join the rush. In no hurry to witness his peers’ uncouth table manners, he lingered in the throne room, clinging to the memory of Sonja’s smile. His fingers toyed with the ebony-handled dagger, which only recently had rested within Sonja’s tender grip. He envied the blade that it had known the princess’s touch. That it came from her own hand only made the trophy all the more precious to him.
A throaty voice disturbed his reverie. “You must be very proud, Lucian, to be honored so!”
Lucian looked up to discover that he was not quite alone in the empty chamber. Leyba, a lycan scullery maid, had apparently stayed behind as well. Naturally, he thought, thrusting the dagger into his belt. I should have seen this coming.
Of Gypsy stock, Leyba was as dark as Sonja was light. Inky black hair tumbled past her shoulders, and her exotic features were not unattractive, in a crude and slatternly fashion. A coarse wool kirtle, rather tighter than modesty dictated, struggled to contain her voluptuous figure. Saucy black eyes examined Lucian with obvious interest.
In the past, if the truth be known, he had occasionally allowed himself to succumb to Leyba’s seductive wiles. He had always rather suspected, however, that it was his elevated status that attracted the lowly servant wench, rather than any uniquely personal qualities of his own. It is the reeve she craves, not Lucian.
“Thank you,” he said coolly. He had no intention of sullying tonight’s transcendent events by rutting mindlessly with this lycan trollop. “I am quite unworthy, of course.”
“You mustn’t be so humble,” Leyba insisted. She stepped closer to him, so that their bodies were less than a hand’s breadth apart. Beneath the smoky kitchen odor clinging to her garment, Lucian scented a muskier aroma. “Everyone knows how bright and talented you are, even the vampires. Why, they practically treat you like one of their own.”
Would that it were so! Lucian thought. His hopeless yearning for Sonja made it easier to ignore Leyba’s all too obvious advances. “Shouldn’t you be joining the others in the great hall?” he suggested. “Best to take full advantage of the lady’s generosity.”
Leyba declined to take the hint. “Maybe venison isn’t the kind of meat I’m interested in tonight.”
Her fingers suggestively stroked the hilt of his dagger. “I was thinking that perhaps you and I could slip away for a little celebration of our own, just like we used to.”
For a moment, Lucian was tempted. His blood was wolfen, after all. Why shouldn’t he couple the night away with this lusty bitch?
Then Sonja’s radiant visage bloomed in his memory, shining down on him once more, and he felt shame at the weakness of his base lycan flesh. I love Sonja, he thought, if only from afar, and I will not betray that love by behaving like an animal.
“No,” he said firmly, removing Leyba’s hand from his person. His tone was as adamant and unbending as any vampire’s. He stepped away from her, placing three or four paces between them.
“Leave me now. I would rather be alone with my thoughts.”
Surprise, followed by a look of extreme vexation, contorted the spurned female’s face. Her cheeks flushed crimson. “You don’t know what you’re missing!” she spat angrily as she stormed out of the throne room.
Yes, I do, Lucian lamented, thinking of Sonja.
He wanted to howl mournfully at the night sky, even though the full moon was still some fourteen nights away.
Chapter Five
CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS
“How much farther to the keep?” Lady Ilona asked Soren impatiently. Astride Lucifer, she rode at the head of the procession as the caravan made its way through the wilderness along a bumpy dirt road. Her
Lucian did not join the rush. In no hurry to witness his peers’ uncouth table manners, he lingered in the throne room, clinging to the memory of Sonja’s smile. His fingers toyed with the ebony-handled dagger, which only recently had rested within Sonja’s tender grip. He envied the blade that it had known the princess’s touch. That it came from her own hand only made the trophy all the more precious to him.
A throaty voice disturbed his reverie. “You must be very proud, Lucian, to be honored so!”
Lucian looked up to discover that he was not quite alone in the empty chamber. Leyba, a lycan scullery maid, had apparently stayed behind as well. Naturally, he thought, thrusting the dagger into his belt. I should have seen this coming.
Of Gypsy stock, Leyba was as dark as Sonja was light. Inky black hair tumbled past her shoulders, and her exotic features were not unattractive, in a crude and slatternly fashion. A coarse wool kirtle, rather tighter than modesty dictated, struggled to contain her voluptuous figure. Saucy black eyes examined Lucian with obvious interest.
In the past, if the truth be known, he had occasionally allowed himself to succumb to Leyba’s seductive wiles. He had always rather suspected, however, that it was his elevated status that attracted the lowly servant wench, rather than any uniquely personal qualities of his own. It is the reeve she craves, not Lucian.
“Thank you,” he said coolly. He had no intention of sullying tonight’s transcendent events by rutting mindlessly with this lycan trollop. “I am quite unworthy, of course.”
“You mustn’t be so humble,” Leyba insisted. She stepped closer to him, so that their bodies were less than a hand’s breadth apart. Beneath the smoky kitchen odor clinging to her garment, Lucian scented a muskier aroma. “Everyone knows how bright and talented you are, even the vampires. Why, they practically treat you like one of their own.”
Would that it were so! Lucian thought. His hopeless yearning for Sonja made it easier to ignore Leyba’s all too obvious advances. “Shouldn’t you be joining the others in the great hall?” he suggested. “Best to take full advantage of the lady’s generosity.”
Leyba declined to take the hint. “Maybe venison isn’t the kind of meat I’m interested in tonight.”
Her fingers suggestively stroked the hilt of his dagger. “I was thinking that perhaps you and I could slip away for a little celebration of our own, just like we used to.”
For a moment, Lucian was tempted. His blood was wolfen, after all. Why shouldn’t he couple the night away with this lusty bitch?
Then Sonja’s radiant visage bloomed in his memory, shining down on him once more, and he felt shame at the weakness of his base lycan flesh. I love Sonja, he thought, if only from afar, and I will not betray that love by behaving like an animal.
“No,” he said firmly, removing Leyba’s hand from his person. His tone was as adamant and unbending as any vampire’s. He stepped away from her, placing three or four paces between them.
“Leave me now. I would rather be alone with my thoughts.”
Surprise, followed by a look of extreme vexation, contorted the spurned female’s face. Her cheeks flushed crimson. “You don’t know what you’re missing!” she spat angrily as she stormed out of the throne room.
Yes, I do, Lucian lamented, thinking of Sonja.
He wanted to howl mournfully at the night sky, even though the full moon was still some fourteen nights away.
Chapter Five
CARPATHIAN MOUNTAINS
“How much farther to the keep?” Lady Ilona asked Soren impatiently. Astride Lucifer, she rode at the head of the procession as the caravan made its way through the wilderness along a bumpy dirt road. Her
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