"Then rot in here." As if she could kill a vampire. She was scarcely over five feet tall and delicately built—aside from her generous breasts showcased in her tight shirt.

Just before he turned, he saw her eyes narrow. "I smell smoke," she called after him. "Ivo the Cruel burned his records before he fled, didn't he?"

Wroth stilled, clenching his fists because he'd have to return.

"He did," he grated at the cell once more.

"And this new king's army is full of Forbearers—turned humans? It matters little. I'm sure the king is very knowledgeable about the vampire Horde's extensive list of enemies within the Lore. He wouldn't need this castle's millennia's worth of records. In fact, I'm positive that that is not the reason you chose this stronghold over the four others, including the royal seat."

How did she know their agenda so well?

Wroth could plan battles and sieges—he'd earned his rank by this victory alone—but he knew nothing of this new world to advance the army. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one.

The blind leading the blind. When they'd found the records reduced to a smoldering heap of ash, that's what Kristoff had muttered.

"You think to bargain for your freedom? If you do happen to have information, I can get it from you."

"Torture?" she asked with a laugh. "My first piece of information I'll divulge to you? I wouldn't recommend trying to torture me. I dislike it and grow sulky under pincers. It's a fault."

The things in the cells, many of which he'd never even heard of, never could have envisioned, howled and grunted at that.

"Now let's not quarrel, vampire. Free me, and we'll go to your room and talk." She offered her fragile-looking hand out to him. A smudge of ash was stark against her alabaster skin.

"I don't think so."

"You'll call for me. You'll be lonely in your new quarters and will feel out of sorts. I could let you pet my hair until you fell asleep."