Page 34 of ColdIron
Inside, the lobby was all black stone—dark marble floors, walls veined with silver, Stormglass sconces burning cool bluish-white. A petite blonde behind a curved desk bowed as he entered. He ignored her too and went straight for a vertical shaft powered by spells.
Pure Stormglass.
Not a drop of Coldiron.
This was older stock, mined and shipped at least ten years ago, before I’d started in the mine. Before I’d let a drop of Coldiron go with every shipment of Stormglass leaving Crimson Ridge. Every batch after that carried my invisible fingerprint, a dormant sabotage waiting for my command. But this building predated my work.
Nikolai stepped into the lift and waited. I caught up,stepped inside, and stood beside him, keeping a couple feet between us. The cage rattled softly as we began to rise.
In the mine, we had lifts too—crude, creaking contraptions that dropped us into the deepest pits. Those lifts smelled of sweat, iron dust, fatigue, and fear. This one smelled of cold stone and faint spice. Like the vampire beside me.
“This is my private entrance,” Nikolai said softly. “No one else is allowed to use the lift. But you’re coming with me, so the wards will remember you.”
I nodded.
“I see,” he said with an amused smile. “A boy of few words.”
“How old are you?” I asked, then added in a hurry, “Sir.”
He chuckled. “Are you always this blunt?”
“You want a conversation,” I said. “Besides, you all asked me how old I was during the interrogation. I’m going on twenty-one. I didn’t lie about my age. Why are you so secretive about yours?”
The lift chimed and the doors opened into a dimly lit corridor.
“Everyone knows my age,” he said, leading me down a corridor of dark wood and black stone. “It’s public record. I’m twenty-six. Caspian is twenty-one. Drakken is twenty-three.”
“What about Aelindor?” I asked, keeping my tone casual as I fell into step beside him.
He arched an eyebrow. “Good luck finding out.” Then he shook his head. “Everyone’s so nosy.”
“I’m not nosy,” I said.
“Aren’t you?” He laughed softly, pausing before a heavy oak door. His crimson eyes settled on mine. “You know why I brought you here, don’t you?”
“Trading favors,” I said. My heart was pounding a little faster, but I kept my voice even. I was no stranger to trading favors. “You make my life easier, and I’ll owe you a debt. You’re inclined to keep my secret, and I can’t exactly shower with the cadets.” I held his gaze. “I need that shower before they’ll let me back in the barracks. I can’t smell this bad again.”
The whole time we’d walked, not once had he wrinkled his nose like the cadets. Instead, he inhaled subtly—slow, measured breaths through parted lips, as if I smelled not revolting but delicious. The only explanation I had: my blood’s scent overpowered the stench of my unwashed body. To every other nose in this fortress, I was a walking insult. To his, I was dinner.
“From now on, you come here to shower,” he said. “The wards will let you pass even alone, and the lift will take you to my penthouse. No guards will dare stop you.”
Inside the Sanguine Tower, I’d sensed the spells spread through walls and floors like a spiderweb. Their malicious intent pressed against me, but I didn’t think they’d have harmed me, even uninvited. I didn’t know why or how. The creature in me had snickered at the slight resistance as we passed through and chuckled in glee afterward. At least it wasn’t chatty now as it was too busy cataloguing, assessing.
“What do you want from me in return?” I asked.
He pushed open the door.
My eyes widened.
This was how they lived.
A large drawing room with a high ceiling. Arched windows draped in midnight-blue velvet. Crystal decanters caught the light and threw fragments of it across the dark hardwood. Walls paneled in rich wood, hung with valuable oil paintings. A stone fireplace dominated one wall. Two deep leather sofas faced each other across a low glass table. Bookshelves crammed with volumes that smelled of aged paper and leather.
My eyes stung.
They could live like this. These princes, their soldiers, their people. Meanwhile, my sister and friends starved. Missy might be crying every night, cold without me beside her. I shoved the pain to the edge of my mind. I would not cry in front of the vampire heir.
“You know what I want.” Nikolai leaned against the mantel, heat and hunger burning in the look he gave me.
