for battle, he belatedly realized that the mists had grown darker.
No.
It wasn’t the mists.
Jaelyn was wrapping them in her shadows.
Shadows that could hide them from even the most highly trained hunter.
Gritting his teeth against the bone-deep cold, Ariyal held on to Jaelyn, amazed as the darkness thickened to the point he could barely see beyond the barrier. Damn. He hoped that Jaelyn’s superior eyesight was better suited to see through the shadows.
His hearing, however, was as acute as ever, and he had no trouble overhearing the conversation between the cur and the vampire.
“You have made certain that the prophet can’t escape?” the vampire demanded, his speech oddly formal, as if he hadn’t spent much time mixing in the world.
Not that unusual.
There were many vampires who would disappear into their lairs for decades, even centuries at a time. It took a while to stop sounding like someone out of a time capsule.
Besides, Ariyal was more concerned with what he was saying than how he was saying it.
The prophet.
They had captured the pureblood Were who Jaelyn had informed him was a true seer. Along with the information that it had been Cassandra’s timely foreseeing that had warned Tane not to kill Ariyal.
He owed her one.
Always assuming he was given the opportunity to repay the debt.
“She and the Were are being held in stasis until the master has fully regained his powers,” he heard the cur reassure the vampire.
“A wise choice, no doubt,” the vampire approved. “We do not wish to risk our prisoners escaping.”
“No.” There was a short, revealing pause. “But still it is a pity to waste the talents of a true seer.”
Ariyal and Jaelyn exchanged a knowing glance.
The cur had ambition.
Something that could be used to their advantage.
“Knowledge of the future is power,” the vampire retorted, his cold voice edged with warning. “And power is something our master does not share.”
Either too oblivious or too stupid to heed the admonition, the cur pressed his point.
“Especially if the future doesn’t please him.” There was a humorless laugh. “As he’s proven in the past. How many prophets did he have killed before he was banished?”
Ariyal sensed the vampire coming to a halt, as if irritated with his companion.
“Is there something troubling you, Dolf ?”
“It was one thing to perform the duties of our beloved prince when we were hidden in the shadows,” the cur complained, “but now that we’ve come out of the closet things are about to become a whole lot more dangerous.”
“It was inevitable.”
The cur made a sound, as if he hadn’t actually thought through the fact they would eventually be exposed.
“But the danger would be considerably lessened if we had an early warning system. Who knows what the seer could tell us?”
There was a tense pause and Ariyal wondered if the vampire intended to kill the cur.
It wouldn’t be a bad choice considering that the Dark Lord might very well destroy anyone near the cur if he learned of his traitorous thoughts.
“How long have you served the master?” the vampire at last demanded.
“What does it matter?”
“Because the stupid rarely survive more than a few decades,” the vampire explained in smooth tones.
The cur growled. “Are you calling me stupid?”
“It is either that or suicidal if you believe you can double-cross the Prince of all Darkness.”
“Christ, I didn’t say I wanted to double-cross him,” the cur protested, an edge of fear in his voice as he belatedly realized the danger. “I merely wondered why we’re not allowed to use such a powerful weapon when our enemies are quite literally at our doorstep.”
“And wondering if he is hiding a foretelling that speaks of our ultimate failure?”
“You said that, not me.”
The vampire’s humorless laugh sliced through the air. “Perhaps you are not so stupid as I feared.”
That was still up in the air as far as Ariyal was concerned.
He understood caution, but the cur was right to question why he wasn’t being allowed to use the services of such a potent weapon.
Could it be that the Dark Lord was indeed afraid of what the future might show?
Or did he simply refuse to allow his minions any power that he didn’t give them directly?
“How long have you served the Dark Lord?” the cur abruptly demanded, perhaps needing reassurance that he hadn’t made a colossal mistake in joining forces with the dark side.
“Several centuries.”
There was something in the vampire’s silken tone. Something that echoed the grief that still gripped Ariyal’s heart.
“A long time to wait for your rewards,” the cur muttered.
“Ah, but some rewards are