Page 34 of FoolSilver
My mind went blank the moment I saw the vampire prince standing on the platform.
Ash-blond hair. Pale skin. The geometry of his face—dark brows, square jaw, sharp cheekbones—arranged into an expression of aristocratic calm. He stood apart from the assembly, as he always did. High noon sunlight fell across his oxblood uniform, catching the gold rank stripes at his cuffs. Vampires didn’t like the sun. At noon, even the most powerful among them were at their most vulnerable. Yet their prince had come to meet us in person.
My gaze fixed on him, and my pulse spiked. I’d missed him more than I’d known.
He’d lost weight since I last saw him. The hollows beneath those cheekbones were a fraction deeper, the line of his jaw a little starker.
Was he not feeding? Was he waiting for me to sate his thirst?
My breath hitched, and my lungs seized for a moment.
The whole ride back I’d been rehearsing what I would say when we met again. I had access to the women’s showers now, so there was no reason to visit his penthouse. And it didn’t befit a soldier to be clingy. Needy.
Now, seeing Prince Nikolai on the platform, every word I’d rehearsed evaporated.
Our eyes met through the glass. He found me immediately—train barely stopped, me still seated—as if he’d already calculated exactly where I’d be. He smiled, and my heart kicked against my ribs.
I looked away. Caspian was watching me, his nose cataloguing everything I tried to hide. He and Nikolai had been locked in their endless rivalry since before I’d arrived. The last thing I needed was to give either of them a read on me in front of an audience.
Good thing Drakken hadn’t come. He’d have clocked the hitch in my breathing, and then the cruel words would follow.
The dragon prince had stayed behind at Greyhold to hold the eastern border until reinforcements arrived from the other forts. No estimated return. He’d probably remain until the garrisons were fully in place, or longer.
Logically, I should have had more breathing room without him. I kept telling myself that. Yet his absence pressed against my chest like an unwelcome weight, and I couldn’t make fucking sense of it. On his best days, he could barely stand me. So why did the lack of him feel like an ache?
I shoved the thought of the dragon prince aside, and the sight of Nikolai helped. Something hot and bright flooded through my veins, and the memory of his mouth between my thighs surfaced without permission. I pressed my knees together and fixed my gaze on the seat in front of me.
Not here. Not in front of Aelindor and Caspian.
I was still a piece of shit.
The train stopped fully.
I was second to last to file out of the cabin, Frost a step behind me. Then Nikolai was there at the bottom of the stairs, hand extended.
Not to anyone else. Not to Aelindor, not to the commanders, and definitely not to Caspian. To me. A first-year cadet with blank fatigues and no insignia.
I blinked at his offered hand and understood. He wasn’t following protocol. He was discarding it, in front of every officer and soldier on this platform, to show them all exactly what I meant to him.
He could have waited at the capital base. Could’ve stood outside the gate if he wanted to make a point. Instead, he’d traveled to the station to welcome me back, even if he’d never say it in those words.
My face went warm as I took his hand.
Heads turned.Every set of eyes landed on me, and I held my chin level.
If he could dismantle protocol in front of an assembly and look bored doing it, I could survive the staring. I didn’t love being the center of attention, but that ship had sailed. Everyone from the deployment already knew I’d spent a night in the heirs’ tent and eaten dinner with three princes at a frontier outpost. Drakken had walked out mid-meal, but that was beside the point.
Involuntarily, I checked Aelindor and Caspian’s faces. Aelindor was in quiet conversation with a general, nothing readable in his expression. He never intervened when Caspian staked his public claims on me. He’d likely known about Nikolai and me as well—he missed nothing—and he’d left that alone too. His silent permission meant something. I just hadn’t worked out what yet.
Like:What the fuck is going on with all of them?
Nikolai’s scent reached me as I stepped close. Dark spice and sandalwood. I’d missed it without realizing I’d been keeping track.
His crimson eyes moved over my face with hunger. He hadn’t fed from anyone else. I could tell the way you sense a fire burning low, the heat still present, just reined in hard. He could have taken blood from any of his regular donors and had chosen not to.
My chest did something complicated.
Once anyone tastes you, or your blood, they won’t go back for anyone else,my demon passenger offered, apparently having opinions on everything, including vampire biology.
