House of Secrets and Vows (Crown of Deceit #1)

12. A Priestess with Secrets

12

A PRIESTESS WITH SECRETS

I have to admit, the Solstice just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

After the priestess, now dressed in very un- priestess-like clothing, returns inside the castle, I head to the lower parlor for a much-needed drink.

I scented her the moment I stepped into the cathedral for the opening Solstice service. Surprising, since the room was already nearly full. But the moment she entered the confessional at the Temple to hear my secret months ago, I marked her lilac and bergamot scent.

I’d been so fucking desperate to rid myself of guilt, I'd foolishly listened to my brother and confessed a secret so big it could cost me my life. Even my role as prince can’t save me from death if the kingdom learns of my connection to the House of Blood.

Stupid, rash idiot. Confessing hadn’t helped. Quite the opposite. And now, not only is the same priestess that took my confession here for the Solstice, but she’s parading as some niece of a merchant I doubt even exists.

The question is why?

Gods, I hope she’s as bound to keep my secret as she claimed during my confession. What had she said happened to the priestesses who broke their vows? One lost her sight? Or was it her hearing?

All I can do is hope Zariah has some semblance of self-preservation.

The alternative is killing her before she has a chance to break her vow.

If I were smart, I would protect myself at all costs. But despite the curse I’ve brought upon myself, I'm not like the other nobles, self-serving and merciless. I’ve seen too many claw their way to the top of the kingdom with no care for those they stomp on along the way.

I might be a reckless fool who joined the darkest house in Valazica, but I refuse to murder the priestess simply because I aligned myself with the wrong House.

After slipping down the empty halls to the small, second-floor parlor, I light a fire and grab a bottle of bourbon from behind the bar, filling myself an entire glass. As quickly as I’ve poured the drink, I down it and pour another, liquor the only thing outside of blood that curbs my incessant hunger.

Unlike the large, elegant parlor on the ground floor, this one remains simple. A rectangular, emerald-green wool rug covers most of the stone floor, and two plush leather armchairs face a bookshelf that spans an entire wall, full of tomes ranging from the strategies of war to Valazican history to romances from all over the continent.

A large square window overlooks the private garden where I spent much of my time over the colder months, the outdoor chill pleasant to the constantly hot temperature of my body.

As summer approaches, the weather has warmed, but I still enjoy the solitude the garden provides.

The dark amber bourbon glows in the firelight as I swirl it in my glass. I stare into the flames crackling in the hearth, sifting through my ricocheting thoughts.

I should be worried about Zariah’s intentions—and I am—but something about her intrigues me more than it should. I’ve always thought priestesses were so righteous and far too pious to drink.

Yet, there was no missing the wine buzzing through her veins.

The liquor in her blood made her scent even more delectable, and my mouth waters at the thought. I enjoyed our banter, eager to figure out what her intentions might be, but it’s probably for the best that she excused herself when she did.

When I am halfway through my second glass, my brother Maddox saunters in, still in the suit he wore to the opening Solstice ceremony. It’s as if he’s never heard of the concept of dressing casually.

Not once in the last five years have I seen Maddox anywhere outside of his own bed chamber dressed in anything less than a suit or fighting leathers.

“How’d I know I’d find you here?” Maddox pours himself a glass of bourbon. “You still need sleep, brother.”

“Last I checked, you do too.” I raise my glass as he does the same, and we tilt them in cheers before bringing the liquor to our mouths.

I finish the rest of mine.

Maddox takes only a sip. “I needn’t remind you how important this Solstice is.”

“I’m aware.”

“And yet you waste your time throwing a revel?”

I grab the nearly empty bottle of bourbon and take a swig. “Staying connected to the people is hardly a waste.”

“No, but being around so many people isn’t wise right now.” He doesn’t elaborate; he doesn’t have to.

No one knows better than I what I’m capable of now. Of the bloodlust pulsing through me, all because of my fucking need to push every boundary.

Maddox should have known better than to tell me that accepting the invitation from the Blood King was a bad idea. His attempt to talk me out of it only increased the temptation of the offer.

I’d meant to go see just how much my alliance with Mavet was worth, not get myself fucking cursed like the rest of the House, not that I’d known just how vile the House truly was. But it isn’t fair to blame Maddox. He’s always been the practical brother.

How, in good conscience, could he not try to stop me?

After I came home, and Maddox found me in a blood-soaked shirt, I swore to listen to him from now on, which is how I ended up at the Temple that day.

Maddox thought releasing the secret might ease my conscience.

It didn’t.

“I didn’t bother going to the revel,” I admit, seeing no point in worrying my brother any more than I already have. “You skipped it?”

I’d been working up the nerve to go when Zariah passed by, seemingly unaware of my presence. Had Zandor not shown up, I would have let her continue on her way, but I didn’t want her dragged to my father. Or word of my revel getting to the king.

So I intervened, and gods, speaking with her only piqued my curiosity more.

I consider telling my brother about the priestess. Zariah was the name she gave me, though I doubt that’s the name she uses at the Temple.

Who knows if either is her true name?

But my brother would only find a way to send her away—or, knowing him, have her killed to protect me—and I don’t want that to happen until I’ve learned why she’s here.

And I most definitely don’t want anyone else to die because of my mistakes.

I slide my tongue over my teeth, which have returned to normal. “I have another planned in a couple of days. I’m sure nobody even noticed my absence.”

Maddox shakes his head. “As if everyone there wasn’t eagerly awaiting your arrival, brother. They all love you. A simple hello has them all swooning. The women want to fuck you, and the men want to be you.”

I can’t stop the half-grin from curving my mouth. “Some of the men want to fuck me too, brother.”

With my newfound enhancement in scent, I can taste lust as if it were an aged bottle of Merlot, rich and herbal. It is the strongest of the emotions, and depending on just how aroused someone is, sometimes it is impossible to ignore.

“You don’t have a humble bone in your body, do you?” My brother paces across the room. “In a little over two weeks, you’ll be the official heir. Then we will start searching for an antidote.”

The thud of his pulse draws my attention again, and I clench my jaw as I feel my incisors transform into points.

How long has it been since I last drank blood? At least twelve hours, likely a few more.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

The last thing I need to do is attack my brother.

With a groan, I give in and pull a bottle of blood from a secret compartment I made shortly after being cursed. I untwist the cap and devour the entire glass in one long gulp.

The bloodlust settles to a low hum as I catch my brother staring, and my teeth return to normal.

Blood from a bottle isn’t quite as satiating as that from the vein, but because of that, I can drink it and remain in better control of myself, something that is crucial to master if I stand any chance of keeping my ailment a secret.

“Maybe I should refuse Father’s offer and let you be named heir.” Growing up, I never considered that someday, I might be king. It was as if the gods created my oldest brother River to be ruler.

But if they had, they’d done a piss poor job of keeping him alive.

In Valazica, any child could be named heir, though the past generations always chose the oldest son. Our father followed that tradition and gave River the title when he was thirteen, but with River no longer here, the king immediately announced he would give the honor to me, though the official declaration wasn’t supposed to happen until a year after River’s death.

But as my father’s illness worsened, he declared that the Heir Ceremony would be held at the end of the Summer Solstice, breaking the usual custom.

As the oldest remaining son, it made sense to select me, but I’ve always been the careless one of us brothers. Maddox better fits the expected role of prince.

Maddox grimaces at the bottle of empty blood. “The entire kingdom already knows he plans to give you the honor. What would everyone think if you suddenly rejected his offer?”

“That he changed his mind.” I bend down and shove the empty bottle back into the compartment. “Or I refused.”

My weekly raiding of the healing wing for blood has made the list of low points in my life.

Made, but not topped.

"River was always father’s favorite. His fucking pride and joy. And he’s always hated me. I’m used to it." Maddox sets his empty glass on the bar. "Father might try to hide it, but he’s declining. Word cannot get out about the severity of his…ailment…or there will be an uprising. Things are already unstable with this useless treaty, and rumors of the king’s poor health are already circulating."

"I’ve got it under control," I reply, my mind zeroing in on the sound of my brother’s pulse.

Maddox moves around the bar and pats my shoulder. "You can still be a great king."

I wish I had the faith in myself that my brother does. "I couldn’t get through this without you."

The metallic tang of blood lingers in my mouth. Once, I would have found its taste abhorrent. Now, it's like rain to a desert.

Maddox hovers in front of the doorway, arms crossed. "Stay focused for the Solstice. Keep your head down and stay out of trouble."

"You say that like it’s easy."

"It shouldn’t be difficult," Maddox says, then turns and leaves before I can respond.

I'm not sure how, but someday, when I am king, I’ll reward my brother for his dedication and patience.

But first, I need to be officially named heir.

Perhaps I should find a way to have the priestess sent away. It would be the safest thing to do.

But when have I ever played it safe?