"Shut your filthy mouths!" Aldrich's cold tones silenced the strident spectators despite him not raising his voice. As the Elder Council's representative, he was tasked to ensure that this unconventional execution of a royal princess happened according to the regulations agreed upon by the Arlon Accords. It was an agreement between the vampire kings of this region to ensure unity and provided the council with an uncomfortable degree of power. He alone had the power to intervene and perhaps save her life.

Catherine's gaze homed in on those standing in the shadows of the looming walls. Vapor rose from the cold ground and turned to a low-hanging mist that a lazy breeze barely stirred around the ankles of those present.

Some wore simple clothes in muted, earthy colors, marking them as peasant folk. The ones with white and black uniforms made the castle servants easy to pick out. Then there were those extravagantly decked out in the latest fashions, dripping with jewelry, and standing apart from those less fortunate than themselves.

The only thing these people have in common is the negativity of their feelings toward me. A heavy sigh escaped her.

Many of them had called her too young to know her mind and too immature to make her own decisions. Although their perceptions were born from watching the rise and fall of the human masses while remaining ageless and unchanged, their views of her stung.

It does not accurately reflect my worth or growth. Sitting more upright, she lifted her chin. None of them know me or what I can do, and now they never will.

As she gave in to the reality of her situation, acceptance ripped away the final shards of hope Aldrich's presence had fostered.

Even the Lord Chancellor will not dare interfere with Father's affairs—he simply acts as a witness for the elder council. He came so they could pretend to have observed protocol and wash their hands of any guilt in this matter.

Her thoughts shifted to the man behind her, standing outside of her line of sight.

Hellenic had robbed me of the opportunity to step out of Father's shadow.

A tide of red-hot hatred welled up from the depths of her soul as her always lurking vampire strained to the surface. Holding it back took more effort with each passing moment of agony.

Although she had lost count of the blows, her torment had to be close to its end, and she clung to that small mercy.

Until that moment, she had found it difficult to let go of her memories of the father she had idolized. She could admit that during the last few months, he had turned into a heartless monster who had not flinched away from ordering her to death.

Why did he so easily believe I would conspire against him? The question was not new. Am I not his heir? Why would I have risked my life for such a pointless thing?

Her lip trembled, and she blinked back her tears.

"Twenty," Aldrich called out, marking the final count.

Her muscles relaxed slightly just as the light touched her knee.

The remains of a lifetime at her father's side burned to ashes as her smoldering skin erupted into flame. Words failed to describe the firing of seared synapses as her sparse layer of body fat boiled. The muscles in her knee shriveled, and the aroma of cooking meat vied with the bitter stench of charred remains.

"Let the bitch burn!" a familiar female voice shouted with that common-tongue accent that made e's sound like a's and turned the "i" into a "u," rolling the "r."

Catherine bit her cheeks not to scream, plead for mercy, or ask for death, and the taste of metal invaded her mouth.

Despite her best efforts, the unearthly howl of a trapped animal that suffered pain it did not deserve or understand tore from her like a tormented spirit brought up from the depths of hell. Or perhaps the cry of a banshee with an appropriate undertone of raw, boundless fury in its hidden depths.

The humans flinched, shivering in horror as bright red blood spilled from her mouth. It flowed down her chin and dripped on her chest, but she did not notice.

Her pale skin was vulnerable to their sight, almost luminous in the reflected glow of red and orange flame.

She violently shifted backward, but the silver shackles and iron chains securing her to that glacial block of stone brought her to heel.

Her reaction prolonged her suffering, exposing her frailty to prying eyes, but the animal inside her was far too close to the surface for her to curb her survival instinct.

I am not ready to die, she raged inside her head.

"Where are you going, honey?" Someone called out with the broad vowels and lazy drawl of the south. "Are you trying to run away?"

The taunt barely registered.

Catherine watched with horror as the light encroached upon her knee again. Streaks of drying blood had dulled to a lesser shade of crimson. The raw burns oozed with puss, and her body pulsed with agony.

There will be no reprieve. The realization focused her attention on the glittering menace. I will burn to ashes.

Sobs wracked her.

And no one will keep them in remembrance of me. Father will scatter my remains to the four winds, along with my memory, as if my life had no meaning and no impact on this world.

Straining against the restraints cutting off her circulation, soundless prayers flowed from her lips.

Her knee still smoldered—blackening to charcoal where her red and raised skin did not steam. Shudders wracked her body, and ice settled in her abdomen.

It took a massive effort to silence herself.

Disappointment glowed in Eduardo's frigid stare. The edges of his mouth pulled down, and his handsome face became a mask of fury.

Her loss of control in front of him made her want to crawl into a hole and never emerge.

Father—known to his enemies and peers as the Drake—would have remained stoically in control of himself under the same circumstances, she speculated.

She avoided his eyes, and her gaze settled on the onlookers as a snarl curled her lips like a dog warning its attackers. One or two took a step back, and the slightest touch of satisfaction stirred in her. But inevitably, she looked back toward her father—still drawn to him despite herself.

How has everything I admired about him become what I despise the most? she wondered. If only I had not lived to see the coldness he reserves for his enemies turned toward me.

Most of what she knew came from him. He taught her to walk, ride, fight, and survive. Eduardo Drake had been the measure of who she aspired to be, and now he was the one who condemned her.

Perhaps I had seen him with the eyes of a child, and it is better that the sun will burn every part of him from me.

Her life had been a house built on a sandy shore with no solid foundation. When the storms came, the wall cracked, exposing her to the wilderness as everything around her crumbled.

All those who had pretended to care for her turned on her without even hearing her pleas. Now, they glared at her as if she were a stranger.

In my time of need, they abandoned me. A frown tugged at her brow, and her gaze landed on Hellenic, who had rolled up the whip and now toyed with it as he stood beside her father. Her inner vampire snapped and hissed like a dog on a tight leash.

With his too-pretty face and sculpted beard, the duke always seemed out of place among the more manly warriors at court. His over-muscled frame was a testament to his need to compensate for his youthful looks.

Haughty arrogance dripped from those hooded dark brown eyes. His blonde hair glinted in the sun, uncharacteristically short for a man with a title, but she suspected he would look effeminate with long golden locks.

Even when she was little, and he came to her father's court as a squire, something about him didn't sit right with her. But time had dulled her suspicions.

Catherine struggled uselessly against the shackles. Although the silver burned her raw wrists, the fighter in her would not submit and accept defeat until her last breath sighed from her.

"Enough, Eduardo!" Aldrich's voice rang out across the courtyard. His intercession was more unexpected than an eclipse.

Those blue-gray orbs scoured the crowd, and it seemed like he awaited something. What exactly, she did not have the energy to guess.

His voice was both satin and steel—a promise of something dangerous.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

"Is there not one among you who will stand for this woman?" Aldrich demanded.

His Spanish accent was thick with impatience-laden disgust as he observed them with arms akimbo.

A glimmer of unrest stirred the crowd like a ripple beneath the surface.

Catherine's breath caught in her throat, her heart beating more slowly than usual as time seemed to stand still. A few of the men exchanged furtive glances.

Will they defy Father? Apart from Eduardo, Aldrich was the most dangerous person there and the only one who might sway his verdict.

Hope stirred inside her chest like a seedling breaking the ground but withered slowly as the moment stretched into an eternity.

Although Aldrich's wiry muscles did not strain his tunic as Hellenic's did, and he did not dwarf the other men like her father, the onlookers shrunk from the intensity of his blue-gray stare like guilty, cowardly dogs. But they kept a wary eye on Eduardo, their pupils' pinpoints of darkness. And Aldrich did not miss this as a frown furrowed his brow.

Under the current circumstances, the councilor could advise Eduardo, but he was a king. His peers would not call a council session to get involved in his household matters. Her life was not worth starting a war over.

When Aldrich turned his attention toward her, the pity that briefly softened his expression caught her off guard.

Although he may be sorry for me, even he does not have the power to break the accords.

The silence pressed against her eardrums, thick like molasses, as those watching remained still like statues. Although she could almost taste their distress like the bitter dregs of medicine in her mouth, they feared their master more than the man challenging them.

They will not hazard Father's wrath, not even for Aldrich and especially not for me.

Her father's neighbor rubbed his wrist, and his cousin stood wringing his hands. A noblewoman of her acquaintance toyed with her rings while her husband kicked at the dirt with the tip of his polished boot. All the while, they cast furtive glances between Aldrich and her father.

It is as if they are considering a response that they dare not speak. She wrinkled her nose at them.

Her vampire nature pushed against her restraint, wanting to rip free from her control and, if it could not free itself to tear into them, at least rage at them. But years of self-discipline won out.

How many times had I risked Father's ire to help them out?"Boiling, deep, dark emotions blotted out her compassion for them. But not even her feelings could keep her occupied enough to forget the threat to her person.

A movement caught her eye, and she blinked. Eduardo had pulled his dagger with the black leather-wrapped handle from its sheath and was cleaning his nails.

Catherine's mind refused to translate what she saw. She was surprised he even kept the weapon she had picked out for him at the market and given to him for his birthday.

The knife had marked a right of passage. It had been bought with the coin she had earned leading her first solo raid at sixteen.

Eduardo leaned back in his ornate carved hardwood chair and crossed his legs, almost as if bored by the spectacle unfolding before him.

Can he care so little for me? Unable to look at him a moment longer, her gaze shifted, and the light was less than a hair's breadth from her knee. If it touched her again, she would meet her Maker.

Her vampire no longer lurked in the background. It lunged to the surface as the scent of humans, the beat of their hearts, and the rush of their blood drove it to claw away at her humanity. She withstood its hunger out of habit. Allowing it to overtake her would open a door that, once unlocked, would never again completely close. And every time it opened, it would stand ajar even further. Then again, what did that matter now?

The large open space seemed to shrink, the walls pressed down on her, the stench of unwashed bodies mixed with that of soap and perfume into something sickly, not even diluted by the sweet undertones of another familiar scent. The vampire unstoppably surged past her defenses, pushing her out of the way with death so near, and she let it slip off the chain. For the first time since it awoke inside her, she did not resist it.

She would meet her end without the veneer of humanity she had clung to with every ounce of her will since she turned twelve.