complexion. His eyes are blacker, and for a vamp, the dark circles under his eyes look more like bruises.
To the left is a different kind of library full of plants. There are test tubes, microscopes, and a large machine giving off steam. That side of the room is carefully arranged in shadow, and when I step farther into the room, I can see why. The colors of one plant radiate in the dark, while others are regular green.
“You’re a gardener?”
Frederik grumbles.
“You’re being extra cryptic. And coming from you—”
“I don’t like the rain,” he says. He picks up a book, the old kind that’s bound and has letters pressed in gold on the cover. I can smell the moldy paper swelling under the humidity. “When I was human, the streets of Copenhagen were filthy in the rain. I would stay in the castle libraries.”
“I see you’ve always been a people person.”
To my surprise, he laughs. “Years later, I still hate it. Even worse is the rain in the night. Like never-ending darkness. As people of the sea, you will never know what it is like to never see the sun. Though as I learn more of your histories, I might prove myself wrong.”
“What are you getting at?”
“I heard you finally went to see the landlocked.” He thumbs through the book, then clamps it shut.
“Then you heard it didn’t go well.”
“Maybe your approach was wrong.” He leans against the table, shoulders slightly hunched and tense in a way that looks more pained than predatory. I slip out of my backpack straps and set the pack on the ground.
“I knew the sea witch would come for me. And for the other champion that’s here, Adaro.” I lean against the wall of books. “I went to the landlocked. I asked them to fight for this shore.”
He’s nodding methodically to my words. “What did you offer them?”
I’m quiet.
“Nothing?” He stands and walks to the dark part of the room where his greenhouse is. I remember the vial full of a little flower that he played during poker. He takes a jar filled a third of the way with water. At the center is a slender purple flower. The delicate stem moves around in a dance, and every time it does so, a faint light pulses from within. “You always have to offer something, Tristan. Otherwise, why will they fight for you?”
“Isn’t that worse? To lie to them and have them die anyway, thinking they’re getting rewarded when they aren’t?”
“That’s how battles are fought, Sea Prince.” He sets the flower jar on the table between us. “Without a reason to live, you’ll have a field of dead soldiers. I will help you see that.”
It takes me a moment to realize what he’s said. “You’re going to help me?”
He nods once, holding his hands behind his back, calm as a shark out for a stroll.
“In exchange for—?” Killing you the next time I see you? Restoring traitors to the court?
“Lover’s Breath.”
“In exchange for backing me up you want my…breath?”
The familiar exasperated glare is back. “It’s a pearl that grows inside two clams at once. The Venus pearl. I was hoping you hadn’t already given it to one of your paramours.”
“Paramour, singular. And no, I wasn’t planning on it since I already gave it to one girl. It just feels wrong. Especially since they know each other. What do you need it for?”
“My plants. I’m developing a new species, like the saltwater orchid I gave to your grandfather.” He taps his finger on the sides of the jar. “Like this.”
“And you’ll bring an army of vampires?”
“Not just vampires. The demigods here. Werewolves, though they don’t like to get wet. The solitary fey are always up for a rumble. The battle may not just be on the sea but on this shore. What happens on this shore concerns the Thorne Hill Alliance, and what concerns the alliance concerns me. You’re from here, and you know how devastating something like this could be.”
“It’s just for your plants?” It’s the smallest thing he could ask for. He could ask for a nip of my blood. He could ask for a year’s worth of laundry service.
“Don’t worry, Sea Prince. I’m not an enemy of the world.”
“That’s what an enemy of the world would say.”
“It only took a couple of hundred years to realize I like being here.” He returns the jar to its shelf. “Don’t let it be the same for you.”