Page 4 of The Prince's Curse

As if she sensed Scarlett’s hesitation, Mina pushed her glasses atop her head and turned. “Are you all right?” She reached out and ran a thumb over Scarlett’s lip. “Do you need me to tend to you?”

Scarlett shook her head. “I’m fine. I was just wondering what life will be like after killing Julian. I’ve never had any other goal.”

Her aunt smiled. “We could travel a while. We’ll go anywhere you like.”

“To see the northern lights?” she asked.

“Of course. It’s not the right time of year, but we’ll have time. Especially once we know the people of Atlanta are safe.” Mina took Scarlett’s hand and folded it around hers before giving it a little kiss. She smiled and said, “I’m proud of you. I know that you can do this. Do you feel ready?”

“I think so,” she said.

Mina’s eyes narrowed. “Scarlett.”

“I will be,” she amended. “When I see him.”

Mina nodded. “Good. Jack is sending help to make sure you get your opening, but you will only have one chance. I will give you all the tools, but it must be you that ends him once and for all.”

She nodded. “I will. I promise.”

Chapter 2

This office belonged to Eduardo, its towering shelves not quite full, the chair a bit too big. He slowly circled the room, lightly caressing the freshly polished desk where Eduardo had reigned for over fifty years. In the court’s unfortunate fracture, Eduardo had left it behind.

Their former Elder had relocated, as some would say.

And others would say he tucked tail and fled like a bloody coward.

Julian sank into the oxblood leather chair across from the desk, imagining Eduardo on the other side. Like a proper king on his throne, Eduardo had received his subjects here on countless late nights. And Julian had sat here countless times himself, asking for advice, bringing court matters to Eduardo, apprising him of the Shroud’s movements… In those last weeks, it had always been dark news, reports of death and destruction. He had grown so tired of that expression of dismay, always the bearer of bad news.

There had been better days once, when he would tell Eduardo of some bit of gossip he’d heard, or they would share a drink and reminisce about the past. Always looking up to his Maker, to the man who was a king even in these fast-moving modern times.

He’d known long before Paris that Eduardo was thinking of leaving; their Elder hadn’t said it outright, but Julian knew. There had been pensive looks, long silences, and veiled questions that betrayed his troubled thoughts.

No matter what Paris and the others thought, it wasn’t a cowardly decision, nor one he made easily. Eduardo cared for his people and always had; he just placed their lives above humans. He had been genuinely hurt when so many of his Shroud rejected his invitation. He wanted to protect them and keep his family safe. But they no longer saw him as their Elder.

Instead, they had placed their shaky hope in Julian, who had been torn between his sworn duty to Eduardo and a growing conviction to stand up for humanity. Centuries of loyalty might have swayed him, but knowing Armina Voss would soon hunt him down and soil their fresh start had kept him here.

No Elder to make the decisions, no Maker to guide him. He was the one who had to come up with answers and wisdom.

Not in a thousand years did Julian imagine he would sit on the other side of that desk. He was still working up the nerve to sit in the Elder’s chair when he heard the murmur of a familiar voice, then the cool rush of air as Paris shoved open the door. “What are you doing? It’s time to get ready,” he scolded.

“I am ready,” Julian said. He rose and spread his arms. “This is the suit Safira told me to wear. Do you disagree?”

Paris’s eyes scraped over him. “Of course not. She has impeccable taste.”

There was a healthy glow on his old friend’s face, which had looked pale and tired for centuries after being cursed. Then, Misha Volkov had come along to change everything. If anything, Paris had become even more annoying now; much of his bone-deep cynicism had turned to pragmatism, if not outright optimism. It was unsettling, though Julian was truly happy that he was finally healed, finally whole in a way he’d never been even before the curse took hold.

Paris tugged at his cuffs, then adjusted the sharp-pressed points of his collar. As always, his hair was impeccable, his jaw cleanly shaven. “You look good in the suit, and even better in here,” he said, flashing a genuine smile before kissing Julian’s cheeks.

“This office doesn’t feel like mine,” he said, absently adjusting his own cuffs.

“Well, you can’t have your old one back. I’ve just got it rearranged the way I like it,” Paris quipped.

“What if we asked Eduardo to come back?” Julian said quietly. “I was never meant to rule.”

The other man’s smile evaporated. “No. I wish him no ill will, but I will never serve him again. Not after all that we have faced.”

“I am no better. I was huddled in a bunker while you fought Carrigan Shea,” Julian said.

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