Reaping The Red Heir

23. Deerly Departed

Pierce hadn't shown his face in weeks, not since that last intense encounter at the ball. Instead, he had locked himself away in his office or chambers, dealing with whatever vampire politics demanded his attention. I couldn't say I missed him, but his absence gnawed at me in ways I didn't want to admit.

Did I actually miss him? The cocky smirk, the way he taunted me with half-truths?

God, I was a fool.

But then, perhaps I didn't miss him. Perhaps I was just bored. Idle hands often lead to reckless choices or, in my case, reckless thoughts.

Days turned into weeks, and every corner of the castle began to look the same. The flickering candlelight, the heavy drapes, the whispers of the servants. Each day blended into the next like a monotonous song on repeat. The notion that vampires had endured this existence for centuries was unfathomable.

I undertook several minor tasks, killing rogue Shadeborns that plagued the city. Every month, I would accept the ashforthelixir from Talon, a regular offering from Pierce's arsenal, in an effort to prevent me from falling prey to any Shadebornelure.

There were times when I half-expected to find myself frothing at the mouth post-elixir, considering Talon was the vampire who supplied me. I was dealing with more encounters with him than I cared for. Every directive from Pierce reached me through him, a cold formality that pricked my pride more than I was willing to acknowledge.

Now, within the confines of the barn, Thalia and I made ready for my forthcoming trek to Emberhorn Summit, a peak that lay beyond the kingdom wall.

My goal was to infiltrate the dwelling of a Lich, a sorcerer of the undead who had unnaturally extended their existence far beyond its natural span using enchantments. The words on the mission parchment, presumably in Pierce's handwriting, were all business and no charm.

The Lich possessed documents that the prince desired, and while their contents remained a mystery to me, I could hazard an educated guess that they bore some connection to Pierce's reign.

Thalia busied herself in preparing my mount for the trip, a silver-dappled gray mare named Heaven. She had previously shared the amusing contradiction of the mare's name. It seemed Heaven was as untamed as the depths of hell.

The prospect of riding a defiant mare thrilled me, and Thalia looked at me as though I'd sprouted a second head.

I observed her busily tending to the mare while I filled my pack with the essential items for my journey.

"Your horse is ready," She said, breaking the silence that had settled between us. Her purple eyes flickered up to meet mine, a hint of concern hidden behind her usual aloofness.

"Thanks," I replied, adjusting my heavy fur coat.

She gave a curt nod and went back to securing the saddlebag. "Do you find it strange not seeing him around?" she asked casually, her tone almost too nonchalant.

"Who? The Heir?" I asked, attempting to sound indifferent.

Thalia smirked but didn't meet my eyes, her fingers deftly tying the leather straps. "Yes, Pierce."

I shifted my shoulders uncomfortably at the change in our conversation, the mention of his name stirring a mix of emotions I wasn't ready to confront.

"He's been avoiding me," I admitted, my brow furrowing together.

Thalia chuckled, her head shaking in amusement as she finished stocking the saddle bag on my mare.

"What?" I queried, my voice laced more with irritation than inquisitiveness.