Rejected Vampire (Blood Reign #1)
Chapter 1
One
Ivy
Just breathe, Ivy.
I suck in a breath, closing my eyes, and trying my hardest to ground myself as the carriage rocks me back and forth. My stomach flips, but I’m not certain if it’s from anxiety or the bumpy carriage ride to the Castorian Castle.
I feel my father’s gaze on me from across the way, and I know he must be as nervous as I am even if he doesn’t show it.
We both knew this day was coming—that it was unavoidable. Though, I’m sure for my father, King Centrece Reign, this is a day full of hope and pride. For me, however…
It’s quite the opposite. My patronage and lineage are nothing but a curse, my birth a prophecy all on its own.
I’ve known my whole life that one day I would be offered to the Reign clan.
It’s my destiny, and my father has put his blood, sweat, and tears into this treaty, this proposed alliance with the Castors.
I used to think the idea was grand, that there was a certain level of peace to the fact that I knew what my future was going to be.
Perhaps I even thought it romantic when I was younger, but as I sit here in this carriage, knowing this moment is finally here, I don’t find the inevitable truth romantic at all.
Because in just a few moments, we’ll arrive at Castor Castle and I’ll meet Wyatt Castor—the vampire who I have been primed for my entire life. I’ve never seen him, what with our alliance being precarious at best. All I know is that we are the same age.
Is he nervous? I have to wonder if he feels as anxious about our meeting as I do.
“You look beautiful, Ivy,” my father says, and there is no trepidation in his voice.
Only pride. Of course, this is a big day for him as well.
I may have been primed to be a perfect offering for the Castorian Prince, but my father has spent the majority of my life working towards this union; if only because it will bring peace to our kingdom and end this insane war.
And perhaps if we can unite our kingdoms, we can form an alliance against our true enemy, the necromancers who have been trying to eradicate our clans for decades now.
“Thank you,” I say as I stare out the window, the ominous Castorian castle coming into full view. The dusky skies cast an eerie glow over the castle, and I can’t help but feel a tightening in my chest, my stomach twisting into knots once more.
The gates open with a resounding thud as the carriage enters across the bridge into the fortress, and I do my best to focus on my breathing.
When the carriage stops, my father looks at me with a warm smile.
“It is time,” he says poignantly, but I can’t help but feel the words are heavily weighted shadows, falling on my predetermined destiny.
He exits first and holds his hand out to help me down. I take it out of habit, my feet gracefully touching on the solid dirt ground.
Two guards—no, knights—step forth to receive us while the remaining guard stands their ground.
“Your majesty.” One knight steps forth, bowing politely while the other approaches me in a similar fashion. He offers me his hand, which I take and he gently places a kiss on top of it as he regards me with my royal title as well.
“Her royal highness and the Prince have been waiting for you,” my guard—a vampire who looks barely over the age of nineteen, if I had to guess—states.
My father hums in repose, touting for his guard—a vampire whose age is only discernible by the streaks of grey at his temples—to lead us to Her majesty Queen Temperance Castor and her oldest son, Wyatt.
From my knowledge, I know Wyatt is not an only child.
He has an estranged brother and a younger sister, and the queen—despite not having a king to rule by her side—is expecting her fourth child, though according to my father, that particular reason is precisely why the Castors need our alliance.
She can not reign for much longer in her husband’s absence; without an alliance or betrothal.
Wyatt is the oldest, and therefore he needs to assume the throne—but like me, he cannot assume the throne without claiming and bonding a mate.
It is absurd that the rules of our realm are so archaic.
The queen lost her husband and King and stepped up to rule in his absence, and the realm acts as if the six months queen Temperance has been ruling without a man by her side makes her inadequate—solely because she is a pregnant queen without a king.
My father tells me it is not because she carries a child, but rather that the parentage of her child is…
questionable, and as such, the kingdom is hovering, waiting for the chance to strike and remove her for her suspected affair and potential murder of the king himself.
The rumors are breathed in shadow, of course, and therefore such dreadful gossip is at the moment, only that.
Gossip. There will be no way to discern the child’s parentage until they are born, and if the gossip is true, and she is sitting on the throne, she will be stricken from the kingdom for an act of treason.
A woman bound to her King—or prince—is bonded under oath to only serve their mate.
Of course, affairs happen, I am not obtuse.
But it seems those affairs are only frowned upon when it is a vampiress of power that takes a lover.
My father, and King Castor himself, were known to have had many affairs, and that was hardly gossip.
But I digress. I am not here to judge a woman I don’t know, whose circumstances are outside my realm of understanding. I can not speak to the truth.
I follow my father and the guards as they lead us through the front gates into the castle itself.
The hallways are lined with pristine suits of armor; their metallic covers catching the low light of the torched sconces that decorate the hallways.
Everything is so uncharacteristically bright.
From the outside, the place looks like a fabled fairytale castle, with its honey-colored stone and lush shrubbery and foliage; but inside it is all white and grey stone, illuminated by ornate furnishings and candles at every corner.
It is breathtaking, and my heart does a little flip as I think about the fact this may one day be mine. If all goes according to plan, that is.
I am not a fool, I know there is still a chance—however slim it may be—that Wyatt Castor may reject my father’s offer. Me.
Though I have to consider the fact that, like me, he’s been primed and prepped for this moment, and therefore, he knows what is at stake as well as I do.
At least, I hope this is the case, because I can not afford to think otherwise.
I can not afford to think about what our kingdoms might do if I am not accepted by this man.
I know the moment we arrive at the throne room because the air changes. It’s colder here, in the antechamber and even the fire itself dancing in the sconces has gotten marginally smaller.
The guards move to open the doors, and I hold my breath. This is it. This is the moment everything changes.
Keep yourself together, Ivy. You must stay strong.
The doors open with a heavy groan and I note the sparkling chandelier hanging in the center of the room, catching the light from the walls of fire-lit sconces as the hazy light of dusk filters in, shining on him.
My gaze settles on the Castorian prince, and I have to resist the urge to gawk at him.
He’s…
He’s quite beautiful, I’ll give him that.
Vampires are beautiful by nature, especially those of us who are blood born with rather prestigious pedigrees.
But Wyatt Castor is the epitome of art itself.
Long, thick eyelashes frame his bright, almost cerulean eyes.
His hair—the color of spun gold silk—falls in his eyes haphazardly, and he cradles his jaw apathetically on his left hand, which is decked in ostentatious gold and gem-stoned rings.
His shoulders are broad, but his posture is just as apathetic as the expression on his face.
He raises one eyebrow at me as if he has seen it all and I am nothing.
He barely looks at me as he leans back in his chair, and I feel heat flush inside me.
I’m caught between wanting to stare—because he is quite pretty for a man and his side profile is damn near perfect—but I also feel a blazing sense of anger and defensiveness.
Who is he to look at me like that? Surely he must know who I am, and he should be at the very least upholding the image he does care, that he does respect royalty, even if it is not his friend.
I am Princess Ivy Elara Reign, damnit!
Our kingdoms are certainly not friends. Allies itself is quite the stretch, but I suppose right now it will have to do until we solidify this offering and the unity of our kingdoms.
“Centrece.” The woman’s voice that speaks is smooth, like velvet.
I tear my eyes from the prince, unable to look away from what I would garner is likely the most beautiful vampire I’ve ever seen—next to my mother, of course, who passed when I was just a baby and I never truly knew.
But I’ve seen her photographs. It’s hard to discern my parentage when I am the spitting image of her with the same dark hair and the same petite form.
My ruby-red eyes are a gift from my father; a trait significant to the Reign bloodline that dates back to the dawn of the first vampire.
But Temperance Castor, dressed in a dark crimson gown that illuminates her skin and her large belly, captures my gaze with her vast, black eyes.
I have to fight not to stare, because I’ve never seen a pregnant vampiress in person, let alone a pregnant vampiress of royal blood.
I know the birth rate among our kind has been dwindling for decades, thanks to the necromancers cursing or plucking off our numbers every chance they get, but I’d be lying if I said the deaths were the only thing preventing our continuing population.