The walls here were the same as those in the ball room: swirling gold circles surrounding windows that looked into the dark, rainy ever-night. The royal colors must be burgundy and gold, because those colors were everywhere: tapestries, carpets, furniture.
Today, there was only one occupant. One of the Monstrea, as Vasili had told her they were called. Grigori was his name. She wasn't afraid of him. He might look like a demon, but his love for Vasili was proved every time he spoke with his king.
"Has Jasha picked a bride?" she asked as she filled her plate. She was careful to pronounce her words slowly, just right.
"Greer died in battle the other night." His tone was gruff. "The rush for the alliance has ended."
"Poor princesses." To have lost their father to violence. "But Jasha still intends to wed one?"
"Yes."
That was good. "Who?"
"The redhead." Eye twitch.
Interesting. "Want her for yourself, do you?"
Silence.
She'd take that as a yes.
"Enough talk of unimportant issues. What are your intentions toward the king, female?"
"Dishonorable," she said with a grin, and claimed the seat across from him.
His claws scraped at the table. "You mean to kill him?"
Don't provoke the beast, idiot. "Hardly. I lo—like him." She loved the man—she had to, since she was willing to give up everything for him—but Vasili hadn't said the words to her, so she wouldn't say the words to him or anyone else. Another game, she thought with a secret smile. The first one to crack would be teasingly tortured forever.
"I know what you are, you know. I remembered the talk about you from that night, so long ago. I wasn't there, but I heard. You were thought to be a spy."
"So?" She popped a grape into her mouth, the sweet juice running down her throat. She'd learned that they had greenhouses and other places that were able to grow the fruits from her world.
Those fiery eyes widened. "So?" he whispered darkly. "You are no spy. Twice I have seen you dressed in pants, and your language is rough. You appear out of nowhere, and no one has ever heard of you. You are a Walker, and you're going to get him killed."
Her brow scrunched. "What are you talking about?"
"Your kind is hated here. Slaughtered."
Answers. He offered answers. All she had to do was ask and finally, she'd have them, but just then she wasn't sure she wanted them. still, the first question rushed from her mouth: "Why is my kind hated?"
"You once destroyed our royal family. Vasili's family. His parents, his siblings. He watched, bound, helplessly waiting his turn. They even held a gun to his father's head and made the man choose which of the girls, Vasili's sisters, would die first. And die they did. Every one of them."
"Not me," she said brokenly, tears springing to her eyes. Poor Vasili, losing practically everyone he loved in a single night. But now she understood why he had refused to answer her questions while she'd held a gun on him. He must have been reminded of that night.
God, the fact that he hadn't killed her astonished her.
"Not you, no. You are too young. But those like you. My people couldn't help all those years ago because you went after us first. Explosions everywhere. So many fires. Innocents, children. All gone in a single night."
"I'm sorry." So sorry. She wanted to stop this now, run away, but persisted anyway. "How . . . how did Vasili escape?"
"So many of us were running around, screaming, confused, but he managed to get free while the Walkers were distracted, find Jasha, and haul him into the forest, where they hid for days before the remaining army found them. That's when it was decided—by all of us—that Walkers would be killed the moment they entered our world."
Poor Vasili, she thought again, the tears running freely now. She wanted to hold him, to chase away his pain.
"He bonded with you, did he not?"
She nodded, unable to speak. There was a lump in her throat she couldn't manage to swallow.
"Foolish man, thinking with his cock. Some of our people did the same with other Walkers all those years ago, but those Walkers were put to death after that night. The wives fought us. Their Walkers were peaceful, they claimed. But still we killed those bound to your world. How would it look if they discovered Vasili, the king, had kept you alive?"
Bad.
"If the people ever find out, they will rebel against him. They haven't forgotten what was done to their loved ones. And if his own people rebel while he battles other kingdoms . . ."
Oh, God. Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God. She swallowed the lump. "I'll. . . I'll leave." She would have to. To save him. Oh, God.
"But you'll return." An accusation.
"Because I can't stop myself," she growled, swiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand.
"He knows what you are, but pretends you are one of us. How long do you think that lie will last, since you'll appear right in front of him every time you arrive?"
She closed her eyes, heartsick.
"The bond must be broken."
Her lids popped open. "I'm not going to killhim, and I'm not going to killmyself."
"And because you are his, he will never forgive the one who does killyou."
Does kill, as if it were already a fact. No wonder Vasili had taught her to fight. He'd known what would happen if she were ever discovered. He'd wanted her to have a chance. But why had he wanted her to have a chance? He should have hated her. Yet he'd bonded her, saved her.
Would the hate return in time? Would he grow to resent her?
"When is your next birthday?" Grigori asked.
"In . . . three days."
"So you came early. To see him." A statement, not a question.
She answered anyway. "Yes."
"You love him?"
"Yes." No denying it now, as she thought about losing him forever. The game was over.
"Do not tell him what we discussed. There is much I need to think on."
She nodded, even though she suspected he meant to think about ways to killher without Vasili finding out who had done the deed. She had to find a way to stop traveling here. Not just her, but all the Walkers.
She could travel at will, so it stood to reason that she could prevent herself from traveling through that same will. Right? But the others couldn't travel at will. So they wouldn't be able to stop themselves.
Damn it!
That would save her—and save Vasili. Except for the bond . . . They couldn't be with other people. But she couldn't deny that she was glad he couldn't be with other people. Even if that meant suffering herself. Because she couldn't imagine wanting anyone else. Not after experiencing that tongue, those fingers . . . him, only him.