Page 2 of The Prince's Curse

“Mediocre,” Kova said.

Anger burned in Scarlett’s chest. Mina glanced at the vampire, then back to Scarlett. “Do you agree?” she asked.

Scarlett glanced at Kova and considered challenging him. Instead, she sighed and said, “I agree. He could have killed me.”

Mina released her jaw. “The time is coming. You must be at your best to face him.”

“I know,” Scarlett said mildly. Two more weeks. Everything would change in two weeks.

The older woman’s dark eyes scraped over her from head to toe, leaving Scarlett feeling naked in a winter wind. Then she gestured dismissively and said, “Go finish your conditioning. You can come and eat dinner with me when you’ve finished. Kova, push her.”

At that, the vampire nodded and beckoned for Scarlett to follow. A vague sense of shame hung on her like a mantle as she followed Kova down to the far edge of the secluded property, to the darkened trailhead.

“Run,” Kova said, his voice low and dangerous.

She broke into a sprint, her sharp eyes resolving the shapes of the rocks and trees ahead. Each stride had her practically flying over the earth, nimbly taking the turns, dodging roots and rocks. Her heart pounded, her lungs working to keep up.

Breathe, she told herself. Kova’s feet behind her were strangely sporadic; he was using his damned vampire strength to gain speed. Three or four heavy footfalls, then a long silence as he leaped through the air.

He slammed down in front of her and immediately lunged. She ducked his grasping arms, planted her feet, and turned abruptly to run the other way.

Fighting was much more fun than this. Her legs ached with the effort, but she’d learned long ago not to ask for mercy. Kova would shove her face in the dirt and report back to Tante Mina that she’d slacked off.

This was for her own good, they’d both say.

This was different than training days in the gym, when she could dissociate while she sprinted on a treadmill. Right now, she had to focus on every step while maintaining a constant awareness of Kova’s position. Even when he moved through the trees above her, she knew where he was. But if she let her mind drift for even a moment, she’d instinctively slow down and get caught.

Vampires don’t like to admit it, but dhampir are just as fast and strong as us in short bursts, he’d taught her long ago. But her body still had some of the limitations of her human half; she needed oxygen, needed food to fuel her. When she’d pointed this out, he’d just laughed and told her that no fight would ever last long enough for that to be a problem. This was to keep her sharp and disciplined, but the fight with Julian—the fight she’d been preparing for her entire life—would be over in minutes, if not mere seconds.

Finally, Kova’s voice rang out with the code word: “Stoi!” he ordered in Russian.

She slowed gradually, then kept walking up the trail, catching the glimpse of the low lights around the house through the trees. Her stomach threatened to punch through her ribs, but she kept walking.

As she struggled to catch her breath, Kova jogged up beside her. One single drop of sweat—which might have been a stray dewdrop—marked his brow. With no need for breath, he was calm and composed despite the exertion.

Cheating jerk. If she didn’t need oxygen, she might have looked unbothered, too.

He patted her shoulder. “Good job.”

At least she hadn’t eaten since lunch, or she might have thrown up on his shoes. She sucked in a sharp breath, held it, and let it go in a noisy heave. Fighting to control her voice, she asked,“Do you think I’m ready?”

He was quiet for a long while as they walked back toward the house.Finally, he said, “I think you’re as ready as you can be. For a dhampir, I mean.”

She frowned. “That’s less than a ringing endorsement.”

“You want me to lie?” he asked. “Julian Alcott is over four hundred years old. He is strong and fast, and?—”

“You think I don’t know that?” she spat. She sighed as they passed the manicured garden where Tante Mina grew her herbs. Crisp green smells mixed with the decaying odor of fertilizer. Something small rustled through the bushes—maybe a snake, or a curious lizard.

“You should go inside and eat,” Kova said, glancing at his watch.

“In just a few minutes,” she said. “I want to get some air.”

And she didn’t want to go inside, where Mina’s apprentice was trotting around a strange vampire like a pet. His scent was old, maybe the oldest vampire she’d ever encountered. Angry pink wounds still lashed across his throat, as if someone had tried—and failed—to cut off his head. Even with those dark marks on his skin that controlled him, sheer menace pulsed off him like heat on summer asphalt.

She and Kova walked in silence beneath the stars for a while. Her breathing returned to normal, though she was becoming aware of a burning raw spot on her right heel. It would heal soon enough and deserved no further attention. Kova’s steps were nearly imperceptible, and if not for his long shadow across the grass, she might have forgotten he was there.

Halfway around the sprawling property, she drew a breath and plunged in. “What do you think we’ll do after they’re gone? Julian and the witch, I mean?”

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