Page 44 of Kiss of Embers
Struan caught Zara’s eye. “Finn inherited his grandfather’s wealth. The vampire princes make no distinction between their personal finances and the principality’s treasury. When Prince Dmitryo of Vostrova died, every coin in his coffers went to Finn.”
“I never wanted it,” I said, old anger simmering in my gut. “But I had no choice. Every time I tried to send the money back to Vostrova, it returned the next evening.” Memories stirred, images of the chests of jewels and priceless works of art forming in my mind. I’d kicked them over in a rage. Dumped them in the loch behind the estate. Buried the coins deep in the ground. None of it made a difference. Like clockwork, the chests reappeared—their contents intact—the following twilight.
Zara leaned her elbows on the table. “If you didn’t want the money, couldn’t you have just given it away? Donated it or spread it among your remaining relatives?”
I shook my head. “Vampire wealth follows blood. Or, as the vampires put it,theBlood. And even if I’d wanted to distribute it to other relatives, that wasn’t an option. My grandfather and all of his direct descendants were slaughtered in the same conflict.”
Zara put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, gods. I’m so sorry.”
“I’m not, lass. I’m the one who slaughtered them.”
Slowly, Zara lowered her hand. I braced myself for disgust or condemnation. But her gaze was steady, and her voice was even as she said, “You can tell me about it if you want to.”
Quiet settled around the table. As I held Zara’s stare, a sort of calm stretched between us. It washer, I realized. She was willing to listen, but she hadn’t pushed. She’d simply left the door open for me to enter if I chose. And just as I knew the calm flowed from her, I understood that I’d receive no judgment for sharing my story.
I drew an even breath. “My grandfather wanted my mother to wed the prince of a rival territory. She refused, and when my grandfather ordered his guards to forcibly deliver her to her betrothed, she killed the guards and escaped.”
Admiration shone in Zara’s eyes. “She must have been very strong.”
I smiled. “She was. She evaded capture, hiding from the sun during the day and navigating the mountains at night. But she didn’t have any supplies. No food or water. She foraged when she could, but the conditions were harsh, and she was in danger of starving. The way she told it, she sank to her knees in the middle of a snowy field and resigned herself to death. And that’s when my fathers found her.”
Zara listened, her gaze rapt and her coffee growing cold. She ignored it as she propped her chin on her hand. “She was their fated mate.”
“Aye. They recognized her right away.” My memory supplied me with my mother’s cool gray eyes and long dark hair. Herquick laugh and high, sweet singing voice. “They were happy,” I said. “We were happy. But my grandfather never forgave her for running away.” My chest tightened.
Wordlessly, Struan reached over and placed his hand on top of mine. I squeezed his fingers before turning back to Zara.
“As I’m sure you know, there is just one pureblooded dragon left in the world.”
“Cormac,” Zara said. “Your king.”
I nodded. “We lost our women more than a thousand years ago. But fate was kind, and it gave us new mates. The other Firstborn Races hate us for it.”
Struan grunted. “They hate us for other reasons too.”
Zara’s gaze went to our joined hands. The color returned to her cheeks, but her eyes remained free of judgment as she met my stare. “I’m sixty-five years old. I’ve dealt with so many fossils on the Werewolf Council, I probably qualify as an archaeologist.”
Struan chuckled. “Finn and I aren’t all that old, either. I’m a hundred and thirty.” He tipped his head toward me. “Finn turned a hundred and fifteen a few months ago.”
Zara’s lips curved. “So not quite fossilized.”
Humor danced in Struan’s eyes. “No, lass. You won’t need any pickaxes to keep us in line.”
Their gazes held, something tentative and meaningful passing between them. Then Zara swallowed as she returned her attention to me.
“What happened to your parents?” she asked softly.
“My grandfather sent one of my cousins to speak to my mother. He channeled to her side when she went walking in the Highlands alone.” Bitterness welled, turning my voice gruff. “Dmitryo planned it that way on purpose. The cousin had been friendly to my mother when they were young. If she had channeled away, she might have lived. But she trusted him, and he killed her.”
Zara thrust her hand across the table, her palm up in invitation. I took it, squeezing her fingers the same as Struan’s. With another deep breath, I finished the story.
“Dmitryo knew he was no match for my fathers. The only way to get to them was through my mother. He arranged his own daughter’s death because he couldn’t stand for a woman of his blood to be mated to a pair of dragons. My fathers felt her loss right away, and they sent me to safety. They passed shortly afterward. And when I was strong enough, I flew into Dmitryo’s territory, killed everyone in his castle, and burned the place to the ground.”
Something fierce passed through Zara’s eyes.Bloodlust.I’d seen it often enough in the mirror to recognize it.
“I’m glad,” she said, a growl in her voice. “Your vengeance was just.”
Struan stared at her, and I recognized the look in his eyes too.Adoration.He’d lusted after her before. Now, he was smitten. Watching him watch her, the weight of the past lifted. I released their hands and sat back in my chair. “So there you have it, lass. That’s how I came into my wealth.”