Prince of Lies [COMPLETED]

Chapter 11

Frederick held the lace parasol overhead, his attention drifting back to the red-and-black cobweb patterns it cast over Arabella's pale skin. Not that she noticed he was there. So he was free to observe at his leisure, finding features that surpassed that of mere aristocracy.

The Thescan court would have found her exotic and astonishing—had she been a human and not a vampyre—gossiping over how dark the waves of hair, how pale the skin, how exaggerated the lashes. Her face held incredible symmetry that was a marvel to behold, and whoever had changed her into a vampyre had done so with sure intent.

She held onto Frederick's other arm, preoccupied with a spot in the distance as her tiny fang worried into her lower lip. "Come on ... come on."

Since the ambush, Urnald contacted him almost daily through the Binding Stone. His every word, though frequent, was strained. Clipped.

Frederick couldn't remember the last time Urnald was angry—really outraged. When his mother was alive he never let it show. And when his sister Beatrice died he seemed to give himself over to grief, giving up entirely. But Frederick was his only son, his only family, and successor. And since hearing something had happened to him it seemed as though Urnald had finally snapped, and he promised that water was coming or else he would destroy the dam himself.

Arabella became implacable since Frederick announced the impending destruction of the dam, and she spent all day, every day, by the channel where the water once ran, waiting patiently for it to fill again.

He decided she would no longer do it alone, and he toed the edge where the land dipped to make way for a stream. "If I haven't apologized already, please let me apologize for the delay of its arrival now. I'm sorry it's taking so damned long to get here."

She blinked and looked up at him. "You must be so bored, but you don't have to wait here with me. How are you feeling today?"

Better, but weak. Weaker than he'd ever been. It infuriated him to admit that he hadn't been the same, and not since the incident at the border but since the last stand at Hendlemark. Keeping busy with meaningless political schemes distracted him most days, but when he left Thescan to be in Carnelia he had nothing to do but sit with his thoughts, stewing in his weaknesses as they worsened by the day. The amount of rest he'd experienced in the last couple of months began to eat at his strength. At his mind. Strip him away from his usefulness.

"I'm fine," he assured.

"You haven't regained your healthy coloring since the incident."

He gave her a pointed look. "You can tell my coloring under all this horrid light, can you?"

She rolled her eyes—making her seem so young. So human. Normal. "I just want to know if you're all right. One of my best generals is coming soon, and I need to know that you'll be ready to meet him."

"Why wouldn't I be ready to meet him?"

She squeezed his arm. "You're meeting him to train, lover. I need you healthy and strong."

He did his best to keep the surprise from his voice. "Train?"

"You need to be ready for anything. I think that attack on your life proved that. You've mastered the humans, now it's time to master your vampyre adversaries."

He straightened the parasol, the shadows shifting on Arabella's face. "You want me to learn how to fight against vampyres."

"I would have asked sooner, I just wanted you to get used to all of this." She twirled her finger at the sky. "I should have asked sooner. It's just that you live in the castle, and no vampyre dares to come near the castle. Near Errand. Near me." Another piece of information he tucked away: vampyres were afraid of Errand. "And now that you've made it clear you'd like to stay, I think it's time."