Free Carnal Magic: The Wraith Accords, Book 1 by Lila Dubois

around 1430 AD, meaning you’re a hundred years younger than I am.” Isabel smiled sweetly. In this company, being the youngest was no virtue.
    Niamh stiffened. “How do you know that date?”
    It was the High King who replied. “Isabel is the Sage of the most powerful of the Vampire Cabals. The Sage is—and correct me if I misspeak, Lady Isabel—a record keeper and holder of knowledge.”
    “You are correct, Your Majesty, and you honor me with such a lofty description of my humble role.”
    “May I ask an indelicate question?” Fionn broke into the conversation with a smile.
    “Fionn.” The High Queen spoke sharply, sounding very much the exasperated parent.
    “I will answer, if the High Queen does not object, and if my answer is appropriate for the company.” Isabel smiled at the quiet redheaded man.
    “Is it true that you drink human blood?” Fionn seemed merely curious, though Isabel saw Niamh make a face.
    “It is. That is hardly the Vampire’s greatest secret.” She smiled, opening her mouth slightly so he could see her fangs.
    Oisin frowned and Niamh leaned forward to get a better look at her teeth.
    “There are no humans in Tara,” Fionn pointed out. “Your visit is not a long one, but you will not have any way to eat.”
    “The older a vampire gets, the longer they can go between feedings. My body does not need human blood to function the way it once did. I could, if I wanted, eat as you do. Sadly, food never tastes as good as I remember from when I was a human.”
    “You…you can eat? So you don’t need the humans.” Niamh looked disappointed, which was strange.
    “Each vampire is different.” Isabel spoke with care. There was something going on with the princess that she didn’t understand.
    Before she could explore this any further, the High King rose. He’d eaten very little. “Lady Isabel. I hope you’ll join me tomorrow so we may speak on things. For now I must retire.”
    The rest of the table rose as the High King departed. Around the hall, chairs scraped as the assembled Tuath scrambled to rise at the sudden departure of their king.
    He walked toward the throne and, mid-stride, disappeared into thin air.
    Isabel carefully examined the faces of the other members of the royal family. The High Queen’s face was pinched with sadness, as was Prince Cairbe’s. The expressions were fleeting, gone as soon as they resumed their seats. The other princes and princess showed no reaction to the High King’s departure.
    Isabel’s thoughts raced as she contemplated the past six months and all that had led to her arrival here. The royal family continued to chat, occasionally including her in conversations that were entirely innocuous.
    The pieces clicked together. Isabel brought her wine glass to her mouth to cover her reaction to the conclusion of her musings.
    High King Cormac was dying, and only High Queen Albha and Prince Cairbe knew.
    Well, that certainly changed things.
    The moon was at its highest point in the night sky when Aed heard the words he’d dreaded.
    “Lady Isabel, might we interest you in a game?”
    The formal dinner had finished hours ago. Servants had cleared the tables—disappearing them to the kitchens where the plates and goblets could be cleared without disturbing the revelers.
    Most of the assemblage was gone, and the fifty or so people who remained had moved to one of the smaller receiving rooms off the great hall.
    A fire cracked in a hearth large enough that Aed could have stood inside it. Fine, woven rugs covered the floors and the walls were painted with a living mural that depicted the midnight garden far below them. Three sets of double doors led out to a balcony that overlooked the sea. From the gate it was impossible to tell that the cliff Tara sat atop was bounded on one side by a rolling, violent sea. Two doors were thrown open, letting in the cold night air that tasted faintly of salt. The most highly ranked of those who remained—mostly friends of