"But you wanted to."
Will fantasize about it for the rest of my life. "If I did, I'd never admit anything so shaming to you."
Viktor gazed away. "You might have once." He took a deep drink. "Back to the matter at hand. What are your options with the girl?"
"Kill Caspion. Forget her and move on." As he said the words, they burned like a lie. Forgetting her wasn't an option. Could he possibly move on?
There were so many questions surrounding her, so much to discover. He felt as if he'd read the first page of the most absorbing book he'd ever opened, only to have it slammed shut. "Second option: kill Caspion, find a way to steal the girl's medallion, then abduct her." Would she truly hate Trehan forever? Surely in a few decades she'd get over her displeasure.
Viktor shook his head decisively. "Morgana's magics won't be circumvented, not even by the likes of you. We have no spellcaster to aid you, much less one who could take her on. Logically, you know stealing the medallion isn't an option. A campaign like that would be doomed to fail." He lowered his drink, growing very serious about the topic.
This could be because Viktor had identified an enemy in Morgana, one who was thwarting the desires of a fellow Dacian. Or perhaps he was sensing imminent violence and hoping for a part of it. Maybe Viktor wanted to help because he sought to damage Trehan's chances at the throne.
Likely all three motives.
For a brief moment, Trehan considered that Viktor might be moved to help because once, long, long ago, they had been friends. Then he dismissed the idea. They had too much history between them.
Trehan said, "I'd contemplated appealing to her godparents before the tournament begins. But how exactly would I present my case? Should I say, 'I can't tell you who I am, what royal line I descend from, where I hail from, or what my properties used to be. But give me your ward anyway'?"
"What about stealing her after the tournament-but before the full-moon wedding?"
"Back to the summoning medallion. Whoever wins it will control her movements."
"If you entered, you'd have to leave the mist? To be seen by all?"
Trehan just stifled a shudder. "Yes. By all."
"You'd be banished-and then I wouldn't have to kill you," Viktor said smugly. "At least not pressingly."
Trehan gave him the look that comment deserved.
"Just think, you'd be king of one realm at least."
"That's actually a negative for me. Ruling a rainy, backwoods swamp plane filled with Deathly Ones? What do I know about ruling demons? Or about rain, for that matter?" He waved to indicate Dacia's stone sky. "And why would they accept a nameless vampire to govern them? Clearly, the tournament is not an option. I could never turn my back on my kingdom and abandon my house, not when the Dacians need a king."
"There's another who could rule us."
Trehan drank deeply, keen to get to the mead. "Lothaire again?" Lothaire Daciano, the Enemy of Old, was a three-thousand-year-old vampire gone red-eyed and insane from bloodlust-a prime example of why Dacians refrained from drinking others.
Lothaire was half Horde, half Dacian. Wholly mad.
Did he have a claim to the throne? Undoubtedly. His own house had always ruled.
What he lacked was a grasp of reality. Though the cousins had intermittently kept tabs on him, they'd never revealed themselves to him. "You'd truly accept a red-eyed king?" Horde vampires drained their prey to the quick, becoming addicted to the power and madness that act brought. Lothaire was rumored to have countless memories rattling around in his head.
In fact, it was said that he used the cosaşad to his advantage, drinking chosen victims just to get to their secrets.
"Perhaps I admire him," Viktor said. "His bargaining is masterful. He would bring his fabled book of debts to the kingdom like a dowry."
Lothaire's book was also legendary. For millennia, he'd maneuvered Loreans into life-or-death situations, offering to save them-for a price. Rumor held that his debtors had vowed to do anything he asked of them when he called in the debt, and that he'd recorded their bargains meticulously.
"He's probably the strongest vampire alive," Viktor continued. "We could do worse for a king. Besides, I thought you'd be all for it, eager to end all our family animosity."
"Don't you tire of it?"
"Who are you talking to, Trehan? I live for animosity."
And Viktor had plenty of cause for it. Trehan's own father had killed Viktor's. Of course, Viktor's mother had slain Trehan's. Throw in Stelian's parents and Mirceo's and they had all ended up dead eventually.