Dark Song

That told her nothing at all. He was still, giving her the choice to search his memories, but she couldn’t go that far. She was taking one small step at a time. He wanted her to look at this space and make it a home for them. She didn’t know what was in a home. He wanted her to meet Lorraine and she would do so as graciously as possible, even though she felt at such a disadvantage. She shied away from thinking about meeting with her birth brother, but knew she had that to do as well. Even if Ferro took her far away, Traian could appeal to the prince and Ferro would be forced to bring her back. He couldn’t shield her forever.

“I can, you know. I care little for what others think of me. I have not sworn allegiance to the reigning prince. He cannot order me to do anything, as I am not under his command. Most of the brethren have not sworn allegiance to him, either.”

Elisabeta didn’t know if the relief sweeping through her was a good thing or a bad thing. She only knew she didn’t want to start a war. Still, the idea of so many demands on her when she was barely able to open her eyes without placing imaginary bars in front of her sight was daunting. It was impossible for others to understand.

“I am proud of you, sívamet. You have already come such a long way. You do not realize how much you have accepted me into your life. It humbles me that you do so.” He rubbed his chin on the top of her head.

“Why have you not sworn allegiance to the reigning prince?”

“I have not sworn allegiance to a prince I have never had the chance to get to know. His father betrayed his people by keeping his eldest son alive when he knew he should destroy him. He set many things in motion that should not have been just to please his lifemate. His duty was to his people, to all of us. His hunters were doing all we could to live with honor, and yet he chose a path knowing the Carpathian people would come to the very brink of extinction if he didn’t kill his son. He left a mess to his son Mikhail.”

“How could he possibly know that?”

“Vlad had precognition. He knew. He might not have wanted to know. He might have tried to tell himself that what he saw in the future didn’t have to be, but he knew. He was a ruthless leader until it came to his own children. The rules he applied to everyone else he didn’t apply there. I will not make the mistake of following a leader blindly.”

She heard the ring of absolute truth in his voice. Ferro had gone his own way for so long, relying on himself and then his brethren, becoming such a force to be reckoned with, that even seasoned Carpathian hunters were wary of him. She understood him better and his reasoning made sense to her. He had been betrayed by someone he had believed in, just as she had been betrayed by her childhood friend. She understood betrayal and the long-term consequences.

“He is still the prince, Ferro, and unless I am misunderstanding what I overheard from the Malinov brothers, he is capable of wiping out anyone with his power. That is why he is the prince. He is the vessel for all power of the Carpathian people.”

“That is true, sívamet. Tariq is appointed to stand for him, but he is not a prince and cannot do what Mikhail can do,” Ferro admitted. “Sooner or later, the brethren will have to decide if the reigning prince is worthy of our support and defense. We have not had time to meet him for ourselves, but when we do, we will make that decision as many have done before us.”

Elisabeta thought that was fair. If one was going to fight to save a prince, or go to war for one, they should believe in him.

“So, I am looking at our space here,” she said, hoping to once again lighten the mood between them. “I like the chair we had last rising. We both fit nicely into it. Was it comfortable for you?” She felt very daring asking. She had no idea what the chair looked like. She hadn’t seen any of the furniture.

He bent his head until his lips were once again against her ear, where she could feel his warm breath. The way he did that turned her insides to melting butter.

“Are you going to drop the bars of your cage, minan piŋe sarnanak? You are my little songbird, but you can fly free in our home with me by your side.”

She liked being his songbird, although she’d never sung for him. She heard his song playing in her mind when she was nervous or upset. He had a beautiful and soothing singing voice. “I’m not quite ready to fly. I have not learned to walk that well.”

She realized she had covered his forearm with her hand and was stroking his bare skin over and over. He hadn’t protested, but she still forced herself to stop. She was taking more liberties with him than should be allowed. Worse, if she relied on him and then lost him . . .