I stopped by the common room and waltzed inside to where Arthur sat in a chair by the window, staring off thoughtfully into the bright summer day.
“Arthur?”
“My dear.” He reached his hand out.
I took it and sat down on the arm of his chair. “Are you okay?”
“Splendid.”
“You look sad,” I said, cocking my head.
“Thoughtful might be a better word.”
I slid down onto the tiny spot next to him, forcing him to shift over a little. “Are you worried about David?”
He leaned his elbow on the armrest, turning his body slightly to look at me. “I'm more concerned about you, actually.”
“Me? Why?”
“I'm not sure you can go through with this plan—to have a child. And once that crown touches my nephew’s head, you will have no choice—if you want to keep him.”
“I know.” I looked down. “But, I have a bit of a problem.”
“What’s that, my dear?”
“He’s been pressuring me to…make a baby with him, because he wants this dagger. But if I sleep with him, then I might actually fall pregnant and—”
“Don't worry.” He patted my knee. “He’ll stop pushing you now. He and I have come to a new arrangement.”
“What arrangement?”
He cleared his throat quietly as he looked down. “He came to me late last night, fighting his dark conscience—told me he was uncomfortable being forced to create life under the wrong circumstances. He said if he was ever to father a child, it should be out of love, not force, and he asked that I reconsider my conditions.”
“Did you?”
He nodded. “He argued a few very good points.”
“What did you decide?”
“That, instead of the dagger being provided upon conception of an heir, it would be offered on condition he stay a few more days—give you a small sample of the life you deserved to have with him.”
I rested a hand on his forearm, sitting up a little. “Arthur, promise me you won't give him that dagger.”
“I will give it to him—but not the real dagger,” he added quickly when I gasped. “He will leave for Elysium next week under guise of freeing prisoners, and when he gets to Paris, where he’s really going, he will not be able to find Drake.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Because the letter the House received, informing that Drake had fled to Paris, was a copy.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the original was sent to me. He wrote me as a friend, announcing his decision to travel around Romania for a month, giving me more time to ‘impregnate’ you.” He held his hands up, smiling. “His words; not mine. Anyway, I forged the letter the House received, and they sent knights to Elysium to confirm Drake was gone.”
“So, David will come back here then—after Paris?”
Arthur nodded. “And by then, you will be pregnant with my heir, and I will name myself king, swear my oath and be in Romania before David even sets foot back on American soil.”
I nodded. “What if I don't fall pregnant, though?”
“Then I will destroy that dagger, because, my dear, David won't rest until he finds it, and I don't believe there is any other way to kill Drake.”
“Not even venom—if we starve him first, break down his immunity?”
He laughed. “No. In the letter Drake sent, he was bragging about a spell he’d successfully used to save his own life after being stabbed with that sword. He said the side-effect was total immunity.”
“You’re kidding?”
He shook his head. “I’d like to get my hands on that spell—or even the witch he uses to write them.”
“He has a witch?”
“She’s a vampire—an old, old woman. I’ve never met her, or even seen her, but he calls her Safia.”
“Safia?”
“Yes.”
“I can’t believe he has his own witch.”
Arthur smiled softly, one corner of his lip pulling, his eyes distant.
“Good afternoon, Uncle,” David said as he glided into the room.
“David, my boy, all ready for the big event?”
I looked up at him where he stopped by the chair. “Just have to dress, but—can I borrow my lovely wife for a moment?”
“Of course.” Arthur shuffled aside a little more, motioning for David to take me.
“Thanks.” He scooped me up in his arms like a child. “I’ll bring her back in ten, if you still need her.”
“It’s fine.” He smiled warmly, resting his knuckles by his lips. “You can keep her.”
David bowed and walked us out into the open corridor.
“Where are you taking me?”
“I want you to help me get my ceremonial dress on.”
“We have staff for that.”
“I know.” He smiled into my brow. “But I want as much time with you as I can get.”
“Before what?”
“Before…nothing.” He kissed the tip of my nose, nodding at Jason, who flashed his obviously well-practiced fake smile as we passed. “I just want to spend time with you. That’s all right, isn't it?”
I snuggled into him, swinging my arm over his neck, holding on tight. “As long as it’s forever.”
“Forever is all we ever wanted.”
“Say you promise,” I said, pressing my nose right to his.
He stopped walking. “Promise what?”
“Say you promise forever.”
His shoulders became straighter, his breath quiet. “I…I promise.”
“Promise what?” I grinned.
His smiling eyes went a little wider. “I promise not to drop you.”
I squealed as he let go of me, catching me just before I hit the ground. “You butt-wipe.” I slapped his chest.
He laughed, standing up again, holding me just a little tighter this time. “I love you, Ara.”
“I love you, too.”
What should have been the happiest breath I took, came in as more of a sigh—the joy spoiled by the deep, hidden pain in David's eyes. I offered a smile, but he couldn't rise above the sadness enough to return one. It was the first real sign he’d given of the things he was suffering inside.
He’d been fine as we dressed together, laughing about things we’d not laughed about since I was human, and while I stood in front of him, naked, he’d dropped to his knees and pressed his cool lips to the rash on my hip, moving sweetly soft kisses up to my ribs and over the Mark of my promise—the same line he might have soon. But as the day wore on and the sun began to sink in the sky, he grew quiet and thoughtful.