Page 6 of The Prince's Curse

He was no fool. The fact that Armina was training her to be a vampire hunter hinted that she was staging some grand macabre drama to rival the Bard. She likely intended to have Scarlett try to kill him. If she succeeded, it would be a mercy, at least for him. Perhaps that would finally satisfy the witch’s bottomless appetite for vengeance.

But if Brigitte remembered only to watch him die…it would wreck her. She had a fiery spirit with a soft, tender heart. Killing him would destroy her if she knew what she’d done. It would be a Shakespearean tragedy, as melodramatic as Armina Voss could ever hope.

But the witch didn’t want him dead. She wanted him to suffer as she had suffered, and that meant he had to live. Instead of losing her once, he would lose her again and again without the kindness of finality.

It was hard to be hopeful, even as he looked over to see Paris fiddling with his phone. In that faint bluish glow, the illuminated smile was a dead giveaway that the message was from Misha.

He would not keep griping about it. His brothers had the same creeping awareness of time that he did. Without asking, they had already begun watching for her to close in. And Paris was not grim as he usually was; he believed that clever Shoshanna would find a solution.

Julian did not dare to hope. It was not that he didn’t want her to solve this once and for all, but he was afraid of allowing himself even a shred of hope. If he dared to believe, then it would hurt all the more when he lost her again.

One way or another, this time would be different. If Scarlett died in his arms, then he was done. He would go to Shoshanna and have her weave the Covenant onto Paris instead. And then he would throw himself on Armina’s mercy and plead for Brigitte’s release. It would not be the first time, but if she refused him again, then he would end it himself. If he did, then Armina would have no reason left to hurt his mate again.

He could not watch her die again. There was so little of him left after all these years. And he had tried, for the sake of his family. He didn’t want them to suffer, and so he did his best to peel himself off the floor and face the world.

After each time, he eventually recovered enough to move through the world. He even enjoyed days here and there as the grief faded to a dull ache. And as the years marched on, he understood that it would happen again soon.

Even now, he was caught in the tension of hope and certainty, of desperation for things to be different and a sinking realization that they would never change.

Watching the road blur by, he soon realized that they were not on their way to a luxurious hotel for a cocktail party as he’d expected, but rather headed down the interstate and into the suburbs. “Where are we going?” he finally asked.

“Midnight Springs,” Paris said. “We’re visiting our favorite witch.”

His heart kicked against his breastbone as adrenaline rushed through his veins. “I thought we were interviewing new veravin.”

“That’s later in the week,” Paris said.

“That’s not what Olivia told me,” he said, growing irritated.

“I must have misinformed Miss Pierce.”

Anger boiled through Julian, and he watched with grim satisfaction as Paris put a hand to his temple. Danielle winced, glancing at Paris before fixing her eyes on the road again. He did not often take out his emotions on his court, but Paris had it coming.

The last thing he wanted was for Shoshanna York to root around his head for all his deepest, darkest memories. Unlike his brothers, he was not cursed, not in the literal sense. Armina’s magic was tangled around Scarlett, while he remained untouched.

But they’d been hinting at it for weeks, and he should have known that Shoshanna would not continue to take no for an answer.

There were only a few cars parked at the luxurious home in Midnight Springs, which glowed like a beacon beyond the trees. Strange arcane symbols flashed at the edge of his vision as they drove through the open gate, reminding him that Shoshanna had woven her protections deep into the ground here.

Before he could complain any further to Paris, Danielle hopped out and eagerly opened the door of the SUV for him. Nikko and Dominic already waited at the front door, and he braced himself to take on the role of Elder. It felt like wearing his father’s coat, the shoulders too broad, sleeves skimming his fingers.

Eduardo Alazan was an imperfect man and a flawed leader, but he had done his best to lead a court through war and peace. And Julian had always enjoyed his position as Eduardo’s lieutenant. He’d always thought fate smiled on him when that strange, elegant man rode through the filthy streets of his overcrowded neighborhood and offered him a curious deal.

Saying yes to that offer had given Julian Alcott purpose. Over the years, he had been content to lead the Shroud without the weight of the entire court on his shoulders. He had made plenty of difficult decisions, but his domain was narrow and confined.

But Eduardo sat on high, watching the currents within his court and the storms that threatened them from afar. Every decision he made caused a ripple of consequences. And if he lost sleep over his decisions, it was not for long. Eduardo trusted himself, which inspired trust and respect from all who followed him.

Only a few months into his unwanted position, Julian had not developed the keen vision Eduardo once had. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to look from afar, to weigh everything and trust his own judgment. How could anyone else trust his leadership if he couldn’t even trust himself? And yet, his subordinates did not seem to care about his consternation or the ill-fitting crown.

The smell of warm blood and whiskey greeted him as the front door swung open. Alistair greeted him with a black cat under one arm and ushered them inside.The rich red and gold décor had not changed, but the opulent house felt far brighter and warmer since Shoshanna had taken up residence.

“Hi, buddy!” Danielle said eagerly, laughing as Alistair deposited the chubby feline in her arms.

“Send him up!” Shoshanna called from upstairs.

“What am I walking into?” Julian asked. “Since you’ve clearly all been conspiring.”

Alistair beckoned for him to come into the kitchen, where he poured a highball glass full of blood from a kettle and slid it across the stone counter. “She wants to find Brigitte. She’s been working constantly on an idea.”

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