Contraindre (verb) to force; to compel

The council room grew silent, save for beating hearts and tapping feet, but didn't remain silent for long.

My nephew—unsurprisingly—was the one to break it.

"But...she is your sanguine partner. Uncle, the laws clearly state—"

My low warning growl cut off his words. I watched him abruptly shut his mouth and swallow down whatever he was going to say.

To have my decisions questioned was not the issue. I welcomed dissent. But I could not abide it from him. Not when I knew how poor his own decision making was.

"I know what the laws say," I said. "Which is one of the reasons we are remaining at Chateau Rose."

More silence followed.

I looked to Claire, and found her staring intently at her hands, which were wringing in her lap. I wanted to ease her anxieties but I didn't know what else to say.

It was action alone that could put her mind at ease. I had to make this right.

My Grand Advisor cleared his throat, and in his kind way, offered, "Of course we desire you here, leading us as you have done for centuries, sir, but surely Prince Marius will be overjoyed to see you mated to such a beautiful woman that he will overlook this...transgression."

Tyson stifled a laugh.

My lip curled at his obvious disrespect. I wanted to rage at him for it, but I rather agreed with his sentiment.

"I don't believe my brother will be so forgiving. I've already crossed him once, and his grace has limits."

My Grand Advisor rose from his chair and set his hand on my shoulder, gazing up at me with a warm smile.

"You should go to the capital. Beg for his mercy. Face to face. Man to man. He is your brother."

Yes. Marius was mon sang. My brother in blood. This was true. But just because we were brothers didn't mean we always saw eye to eye.

Laurent continued, undeterred. "Broker the peace. Then take your place at the capital. Prince Tyson can serve in your place until the princess bears you a son."

The word son pulled on everyone in the room. The rising tension so palpable and alive I could offer it a seat at the table.

Natalia had been sent here to train with me in disgrace because she did not identify as a male and refused to do so for appearances.

Tyson had many older brothers who stood to inherit his father's lands and titles before he did.

Those who were born in Roselyn, my human advisors, did not follow the patriarchal rules set forth in the Blood Treaty, and thus did not understand the need for a male heir. Any heir would do.

And then there was Claire.

My new bride. A woman raised in isolation at a convent filled with other women. And who feared the sight of blood so deeply she couldn't wield a knife or even bear hearing the word spoken aloud.

The birthing bed was no place for her.

Despite all of this animosity, a fuzzy image flashed in my mind's eye. A young boy with silver lilac hair and ice blue eyes. He was the most wonderous thing I'd ever seen. No more than two, but strong. That much was clear.

He looked just like me. My image. Save for his mother's iridescent hair.

I wished to hold him more than I ever remember wanting anything.

But...the woman whose lap he sat on, my wife, looked...ill.

Blood wept from the bites on her neck, and her breasts were covered in gruesome bruises.

I watched the little boy as he wiped a drop of red blood from his lips. My throat grew thick and right with emotion.

He was killing her.

No, I told myself. I would not allow it.

I gripped the table, disoriented by what I'd seen and what it foretold, and tried to regain my composure. If that fantasy was not a premonition, it was surely a projection of things to come.

Claire could not survive it.

Besides, having a child was a dream I'd given up on long ago. A wish that would never come true. Not if he hurt Claire.

I caught sight of my wife sitting with her head bowed, one hand pressing against her stomach. I wondered if she'd seen the same thing. If the image had drifted through her mind too.

I reached out through our connection, probing her emotions. Needing to know how this was affecting her.

All I could feel was fear. The emotion making my own chest clench. But, there was also...intrigue. Pride. And...

I drew in a deep breath, and the scent of her arousal filled me with desire I shouldn't have. I'd already taken my fill of her twice today. Too much for her to endure. And yet, I wanted more.

She lifted her gaze to mine, her brown eyes blazing with flecks of molten gold, and the need to fill her with every last drop of me became overwhelming.

I wanted to lift her on top of this table and take her right here. Right now. Onlookers be damned. They could leave or stay; it didn't matter so long as I gave Claire what she wanted.

But...I could not. Would not.

Gritting my teeth together, I forced my gaze back to those assembled. Willing myself to have the composure of a level-headed leader and not be sucked into some misbegotten fantasy.

I was stronger than these base desires, and I was going to prove it.

My nephew rose from his seat across the table, and in that moment, he looked so much like my brother Josse that I might have trouble distinguishing the two if they were side by side, especially since Tyson still insisted on wearing his palace finery and styling his black hair in the greasy way of the South.

"I am prepared to lead in your absence," Tyson confirmed with all the arrogance of youth.

I scowled back at him.

I would not be distracted or swayed. This was my mantle. My task. Marius had said as much. He needed me to see this through. More than that, I needed to lead our armies to ensure Claire's safety, so no one would hurt her again. No one.

Including a child.

"We," I said, in a forced calm, my lips trembling with the intensity of my anger, "are not leaving."

I caught Natalia's eye and I saw the fear and anger welling in her eyes. I knew she still didn't trust Claire anymore than she trusted Tyson, but I would make her see reason.

"I am asking all of you to commit treason by supporting my decision and keeping our secret. No one outside this room will know the truth of my matebond."

A hushed silence swept around the room.

With slow steps, I began walking around the table. Pausing behind each chair as I spoke.

"We have a mission," I reminded them. "A mission the High Prince sees as crucial to the stability of the realm. A mission that is even more vital after the despicable events at Kemp Manor."

I struck the tip of my cane against the ground to emphasize my point. Just thinking of the danger Claire had been in and the useless way I'd failed to protect her egging me on.

Anger turned to rage, and I felt my change occur again, my fangs lengthening.

"Innocents suffer in the war between the Witches of the Light and Darkness mere miles from here. We must broker peace, extend our territory West, and establish order so there will be no coven with which the remaining Kemp witches who desire vengeance can align."

My eyes locked with Claire's. She was gripping the table, leaning all the way forward. Her breasts straining against the material of her dress. Squeezing my bloodstone between them in a way that made my cock heavy with need.

This was for her. And for my people. To maintain the balance of power on earth.

"We must remind the witches of the Conquered Territories," I said ominously, "that vampires still have teeth."

My words were met with silence, and I wondered if I'd need to kill the people I loved most in the world in cold blood to keep this secret, or if they'd unite behind me.

Bleakly, I began preparing for the worst, when my Master of Arms clambered to his feet and, drawing his sword, shouted, "I swore fealty to you, my Prince. And I'll follow whatever order you give. The laws be damned!"

The other warriors stood and grunted out their agreement. Drawing their swords in solidarity.

Pride and gratitude swelled in my chest.

Natalia, emboldened by their show, stood as well. Her gaze found Claire's before landing on me.

"We are with you, Uncle. And to prove it, let us all make a blood vow to you, promising to safeguard this secret."

She drew the short knife holstered across her chest. The blade glinting in the candlelight.

The room grew silent once again. I'd never once asked my people to make a blood vow, choosing instead to inspire loyalty over forcing it. But my niece may have a point. This secret and their loyalty were of utmost importance.

My Grand Advisor dumped his chalice of wine on the floor and offered his hand to Natalia, who made a cut in the fleshy part of his palm. The delicious scent of blood filling the room.

Laurent's blood was dribbled into the cup. Then they swapped hands, and Laurent cut Natalia. Adding hers to the cup.

Claire abruptly turned away, not looking at the act.

One by one, I watched in awe as my advisors allowed their blood to spill in silent solidarity with me.

When Natalia presented the cup to my nephew, he hesitated.

"Uncle, I can lead an envoy," he insisted stubbornly. "Then you and Claire can avoid treason and seek your own peace."

My nostrils flared at his continued indignance. "And how will you do that? What will you say?"

"Well, I—" he stammered.

Had I not been so angry, I might've laughed. "I hope your sword arm isn't as limp as your cock, nephew. Because stuttering like that in front of lawless witches will get you and everyone you wish to lead killed."

To make my point, I pointed to the council warriors, Destine, Gavin, and Levi. "Are you ready to let them die for your arrogance?"

Tyson squeezed his fists into tight balls before banging them on the counter. "Then teach me what to say. That's why I'm here."

My response was swift. "If you wish to rule in my place, or in any place, you should listen more often than you speak. Read more often than you speak. And drink only with those you are supposed to drink with. You've already proven that you make choices based on self-interest."

"Aren't you doing the same, Uncle?" Tyson asked.

I paused, appraising this tenuous situation. I knew Natalia wasn't happy with me, but she was loyal. Tyson would never be appeased with anything less than his new inheritance. Yes, I could kill him now and be done with it. But that would not win Marius to my side or make Claire any safer.

I needed to think and act like a strategist to keep Claire safe.

"Make the vow," I said, taking the knife from Natalia, "afterward, we will discuss this matter further in private. I swear it."

Each word cost me a piece of my dignity.

Tyson waivered like he meant to argue, but whatever he saw in my eyes stilled his tongue. Begrudgingly, he offered me his hand, and I sliced the blade across it, causing red tears to well, which I squeezed into the cup.

A breath of relief escaped my lips. It was done. Tyson would keep our secret, or die.

Tyson and I held each other's gaze momentarily as I reached for the cup, but Natalia held it out of my reach.

"Just a moment, Uncle," Natalia bit out. "We still need a drop from the princess."

🫣🫣🫣

What is Bastien offering him?

Exploring Bastien and Tyson's relationship has been so much fun for me.

Question: who's your favorite character in the book so far? And why?

I love all the characters, except maybe Claire's mom 🤮. But if I had to choose it would be Claire. I love how complicated she is, and I deeply understand just wanting to feel wanted and loved.

But I also love Bastien 💕