Free Prince of Twilight by MAGGIE SHAYNE Page B

the sun.”
    She sighed, disappointed that he’d refused to go into detail about his time with Elisabeta. She sensed that he didn’t trust her with that kind of power.
    â€œWas it luck that your soldier put you under cover?” she asked softly. “Or did he know?”
    Vlad glanced her way. “No one really knew what I was. But by then my father and my closest comrades were used to my nocturnal leanings. They all knew I detested daylight, took to my rooms whenever the sun was shining. They knew I slept by day and that disturbing my sleep was an offense of the most dire sort.” He shrugged. “They may have suspected more. Gods know the villagers did. Rumors about my nature were flying, even then.”
    â€œSo it was you, not the original prince, who inspired all the stories,” she said softly.
    â€œYes. It was me.”
    She nodded slowly, then swallowed the lump that came into her throat. “Some of them…are pretty gruesome.”
    He paused a moment. “I am not proud of the things I have done in the past, but I won’t make excuses. I returned to the castle to find my new bride dead. And yes, I wreaked havoc on my enemies after that. I was brutal. Perhaps even insane, at the time. But it’s done, and I can’t undo it.”
    She drew a breath and shivered a little. “So you blamed them, your enemies, for her death?”
    â€œIt was well deserved.”
    â€œDid they kill her? Storm the castle while you were away and—” She broke off there because he was shaking his head. “How did Elisabeta die, Vlad?”
    He set his jaw, fixed his eyes on the fire. “She received word that I had been killed in battle, and in her grief, pitched herself from a tower window.”
    At her tiny gasp, he shifted his gaze toward her again. She held her hand to her lips involuntarily and felt her eyes go damp.
    â€œI’m so sorry,” she whispered.
    He shrugged and looked away.
    â€œWhy do you do that?”
    â€œDo what?” he asked without looking at her again.
    â€œPretend it doesn’t matter. That it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
    â€œIt was a long time ago.”
    â€œAnd it’s been eating you up inside ever since.”
    â€œDon’t pretend to understand me, Tempest. You couldn’t begin—”
    â€œYou’ve spent all these years waiting for her to come back to you, searching for her. Don’t try to pretend this obsession of yours isn’t based on unbearable pain, Vlad. It won’t wash, not with me.”
    â€œMy pain is not the subject of this conversation. You wanted to know about Elisabeta. I’m telling you about her.”
    â€œNot really,” she said. “But maybe I can piece it together from the scraps you’re willing to share. Go on, Vlad. Finish the story. What happened next?”
    â€œHer body lay in the chapel. My dear friend Rhiannon had arrived in my absence. It was she who told me what had led to Beta’s death. And she told me more, as well. She told me that Elisabeta would return to me in five centuries.”
    She nodded slowly. “I know of Rhiannon. She’s well versed in the occult arts, or so the stories go. Magick, divination, prophecy.”
    â€œShe was a priestess of Isis, after all.”
    â€œSo you believed her.”
    â€œBelieved her? Yes. But I was not convinced Elisabeta’s return would be enough. I wanted to ensure that she would remember me, that she would still be the woman I had loved. That she would love me again.”
    Tempest rose from the chair and moved to stand in front of him, staring down at him, blocking his view of the flames, so he had little choice but to look at her instead. “How could you do that?”
    â€œI couldn’t. But I knew of those who could. Rhiannon took her leave, and I had my father send horsemen into the farthest reaches, to bring back sorcerers, witches, magicians of every sort. I