Chapter 10
Crafted from cream stone, Saltblood Palace watched over the city from atop the highest seaside cliff.
It was no wonder that, despite all of the late king’s financial mistakes, he never gambled away the Pegasus. As our own flew back across the city, the empty blue carriage swaying behind them, I began to reconsider this weeklong stay.
Thick vines and moss crept across the palace, rendering half of the fortress as dark as the night sky. Those unruly vines climbed the two square towers, reaching for the oval windows. The glass panes were emerald. Symbolic, I surmised, for the home of born vampire royalty.
My trunks stood beside a weed-infested cacti bed in the middle of the turning bay. More weeds inched over the drive that was a mixture of sandy dirt and old stones.
Still, I couldn’t deny that it was all rather beautiful. In a haunting sort of way.
The same could not be said for the interior.
Two leather-and-steel-clad guards escorted me up the fissured blocks of steps and into the foyer, where I turned back to the formidable yet mildewed doors, tempted to flee through them.
Tiles, aged and discolored, stretched far beyond the foyer—likely throughout the entire palace. Shells in varying shapes and sizes filled each square. One beneath my suede ankle boot was cracked, a strange fungus creeping through it.
My nose crinkled. Gingerly, I lifted my foot and searched for cleaner tiles to stand on.
Of course that was how the king found me—gazing at the floor with my boot in the air as if it were mud.
Honestly, a little mud might have been preferable.
It was much too late to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. So I pointed at the near-black organism attempting to eat the floor tile and said by way of greeting, “What is that?”
Amusement danced in Brey’s eyes.
His beauty distracted from the darkness in the stone staircase beyond the foyer and in the grooves of the column he leaned against. More mildew, no doubt.
Without a hint of shame, he pondered the floor. “Moss.” Pursing his lovely lips, he frowned at the tile I’d stepped on. “At least, I think it is.”
“Moss,” I repeated, my disgust painfully evident in my tone. I supposed it didn’t matter when I’d already expressed plenty of it with my actions.
Brey chuckled. He gestured to the giant foyer, causing the flared sleeve of his frothy brown shirt to sway. “It is a seaside palace, lethal. A very old one at that.”
“That absolutely excuses it, then,” I said dryly. “Do you not have staff?”
“I do,” he said. “Though, they are few.”
“Few,” I repeated—loathing that I’d turned into some type of parrot.
But I just couldn’t digest any of this. The only station higher than my own was his. Was this. This rotting, quite literally rotting, palace. A home for royalty. And that I lived better than royalty…
“Two,” he said. “Of course, there are the guards and—”
“Two,” I repeated on a puff of shocked breath. No wonder this place resembled the grisly stories humans told their young. My fingers fluttered over my forehead. “I think I might be ill.”
Brey was before me in an instant. He took my hand, then explained, “Just in case you faint.”
Vampires did no such thing.
But I let him lead me past the cracked and mildewed statues of Vexaya, and down the dimly lit hall.
Flame swayed from golden sconces, fashioned in the shape of conch shells.
As we walked, he told me the kitchen could be found in the rear hall, and that it was mostly underground with windows overlooking the sea. I was first shown the ballroom that took up most of the west side of the ground floor, but I failed to notice anything about it.
Expecting vermin to scuttle across our path at any moment, I kept my wary gaze on the tiles.
The throne room absorbed much of the ground floor’s eastern side. Which seemed a dreadful waste, being that it was empty.
A single tapestry of the royal emblem—a coral-wrapped chalice—hung between two oval windows. Other than that, there were only the two sandstone thrones, equal in size, upon a matching slab lined with chipped shells.
Gazing up at the smudged glass in the ceiling, I noted the railing covered in vines and black roses, giving a view of the room from the second floor.
My eyes returned to the thrones. They looked as uncomfortable as they were unsightly, with more shells inlaid in the arms and high backs of each chair.
Apparently, my expression conveyed my thoughts.
The king chuckled. “We needn’t sit on them very often.”
Almost fearfully, as I’d never seen him wear one, I asked, “And what of the crowns?”
“Hideous and hazardous. Most of the shells have fallen off, and what remains is not very kind to the hair and scalp.”
I blinked.
“Fortunately, the priestesses have declared them too preciously ancient for use.” He smirked. “Come, lethal. The second floor awaits.”
It wasn’t much better.
But at least it meant the tour was almost done. The four halls looped around the middle of the palace in a perfect rectangle, one side continuously lined with vine-shrouded railings that overlooked the ground floor. On the other side was bare stone between numerous wooden doors.
All of them were closed.
Brey didn’t open them. Only gestured to each door as he said what they hid—the study, the chalice room, the dining room, the guest and sitting rooms. Save for the towers and what resided beneath ground, there were no other levels.
At opposing ends of the rear hall loomed the entrances to the towers.
Brey stopped before one and tapped his knuckles on the steel door. “You can find me in here.” He winked, then proceeded back down the hall. “Now, for the grand finale.”
My stomach dropped. I didn’t need him to tell me where we were headed next.
My rooms.
I didn’t want to see them. I wanted to go home and pretend this ghastly palace wasn’t going to become my new one.
Before we neared the steel door to the other tower, I tugged on Brey’s hand. “I’d really rather not.”
He halted and turned to me. As he searched my face, I watched the excitement bleed from his own.
It did something odd to me.
Something that made me swallow the cruel words I’d been about to say. Something that made me ignore the sharp teeth of my reservations. Something that made me yearn to return the exuberance that had illuminated those eyes.
Pulling him toward me, I gave him a small smile. “I would like to see your rooms.”
His eyes flicked between mine. For a moment, I worried that he saw through me.
If he did, he didn’t mention it.
A smile entered his eyes before it tilted his lips. “Then allow me to show them to you.”
My knees swayed, weak as he led me back down the hall. Once again, he tapped on the steel door. “Not long after my mother died, my father’s paranoia was such that he believed citizens would revolt and storm the palace. So he had these frightful doors made.”
I nearly laughed. “Preposterous.”
Brey lifted a shoulder. “Unrest gathers, lethal.”
He opened the heavy door with ease, holding it as he gestured for me to walk ahead to the stairs.
Atop them, I stopped.
Open oak doors revealed a balcony, with more vines draping over the railing. Beyond, the sea sat dark and still and never-ending.
“Now that,” I said. “I could get used to seeing.”
“The bed?” Brey stood on a black-and-gold-patterned carpet stretching from beneath his enormous four-poster bed. He swept a hand through his long hair, mussing it. “If I’d known we would be venturing up here this evening, I’d have made it.”
He knew damned well I hadn’t meant the bed.
But I blinked repeatedly at the black silk sheets. “You make your own bed?”
“Well”—he hesitated—“sometimes.”
Then I remembered aloud, “Only two staff.”
“My father’s doing. I’ve been toying with the idea of remedying that since…” He trailed off with an almost endearing wince.
I raised a brow. “Since you took an unprecedented amount of gold in exchange for making me your bride.”
Sheepish, he gazed at the floor.
As I squinted at him, then glanced around the rather tidy bedchamber, an idea struck. “You said it was now ours. All of that gold.”
Instantly, he said, “I did.”
I turned to the stairs. “Let’s see if that’s how you truly feel, Majesty.”
Seated in the gaudily upholstered and studded armchair with his legs crossed, Brey caught the next garment I tossed without taking his eyes off me. “You need a darker blue.”
“Why?” I asked. “That one is gorgeous.”
“It is. However, it will dull your creamy complexion.”
I ceased flicking through the rack of garments to give him a withering look. “I wear cerulean all the time. Not once has anyone told me it doesn’t suit my complexion.”
“No?” Carefully, he bunched the gown, and drawled, “I simply cannot fathom why, lethal.”
Bristling, I turned back to the rack.
Testing him like this had merely been an excuse to get free of that palace. A chance to catch my breath before the future closed in and caused me to fall into a mortifying state of panic. But while we were here, I figured I might as well try to enjoy it.
Except this king seemed determined to ruin it with feedback I hadn’t asked for.
I paused and peered down the rack at the dress coats. Spotting one with dyed purple fur, I smiled and fetched it.
“Here,” I said, returning to show it to him. “This would look amazing on you.”
A gasp came from somewhere near the front of the shop. The keeper, probably, who hid among the display of midsummer frocks.
“That is fur.” Brey tilted his head. “And I am a cat.” Yet his lips pursed, fingers meeting and rubbing together, as he eyed the ridiculous coat I’d selected.
I was wrong to assume he would reject it and leave me to choose whatever I wanted without his input.
The king rose from the chair.
He took the coat from me, and his hand brushed mine. Intentionally, I knew, when our eyes clashed and I saw the glimmer of mischief in his. “So concerningly soft,” he murmured, stroking the fur. “Would you like me to try it on for you?”
I smiled. “Please.”