Munro (Immortals After Dark #18) by Kresley Cole

FIFTY-TWO





            The Forbearer king is out in the mist.

            Munro was on his way back to the villa, eager to see if Kereny had returned yet, when he caught scent of Kristoff. He followed the thread through the fog to a high cliff overlooking the city and found him standing at the edge.

            The vampire gave a curt nod in greeting. These hours had done nothing to alleviate Kristoff’s aggression. In fact, he’d grown worse. “I was wondering if you would find me.” His Russian accent was as thick as Lothaire’s. “You’re the first outsider I’ve spoken to since I arrived here.”

            Munro lowered his voice to say, “Your men said Lothaire abducted you from your castle and forced you back here.”

            “He did. At swordpoint. Then he imprisoned me in his dungeon, tortured me, and threatened assassination.”

            “Why?”

            “I’m the heir to the Horde crown, and he wants it for his own.”

            Lachlain had said as much. The vampire insurgents who currently held the Horde capital refused to accept Lothaire as their ruler because he had no legitimate claim. But they’d also refused Kristoff because he’d outlawed preying on humans for blood.

            Munro said, “Lachlain sent me to do whatever I can to help you escape. Did the Enemy of Old have some kind of spell placed on you to prevent you from tracing?”

            “I thank you and your king, but I’m no longer trapped here. Yet if I leave, I will never remember how to return, and Lothaire has information that I must procure.”

            “Then let us help you get it. We can track down Nïx. The soothsayer can divine whatever you need.”

            “I asked Nïx. She was of no help.”

            Munro awaited more with raised brows.

            Obviously not a sharer, Kristoff gazed out at the kingdom. When he finally spoke, his words sounded dragged from him: “I’m fated to a female who is lost to me, chained at the bottom of the sea. Lothaire alone knows where she was last seen. She’s cursed to drown over and over, only to regenerate for more suffering. This . . . this consumes me.”

            Well, that certainly explained his constant aggression.

            Munro imagined how he would react if Kereny were in the same position. I’d lose my fucking mind again.

            “Yet Lothaire will not reveal everything he knows until I can best him at chess for three games in a row. So each night, I challenge him. I won two, then realized he was toying with me. His queen is attempting to intervene, but it’s taking time. Time I don’t have.”

            “Has Lothaire been filling you in on events outside this realm?”

            Nod. “I need to be searching for my female and commanding my army—not stuck here, playing chess. But Lothaire treats my situation as one big amusement. He lives for mind games and puzzles, so I give him both. During each chess match, I draw on everything I’ve learned about Lothaire to reach him. Anything to reach her.”

            “Who is your mate?” Munro asked, though he’d heard rumors.

            “Furie. The queen of the Valkyries.”

            And here I thought I had an uphill battle with my female. “Furie is”—how to put this?—“no’ a fan of vampires.” She was half Valkyrie, half Fury. Which would make her one hundred percent fearsome.

            “You know her?” Kristoff pinned Munro with his vampire gaze.

            “Nay. But the Lykae’s Queen Emmaline and Princess Lucia both hail from Furie’s Valkyrie coven. We hear stuff.” The legendary Furie, with her fire wings and earsplitting shrieks, had left a trail of slaughtered vampires in her wake before she’d been captured by the Horde.

            Kristoff straightened. “Tell me anything you know. Lothaire is closemouthed.”

            Mayhap for a reason? “She’s an incredible warrior. Those who have seen her fighting would put her up against any of the greats in the Lore.” She really hates vampires. “I know no’ much more.”

            “I see,” Kristoff said, clearly disappointed.