Chapter 6 #2
She tilted her head. “We don’t all have to bare our fangs before the first bell tolls, do we?
Sure, we’ll be trying to kill each other soon, but tonight, some of us are just nervous girls in fancy dresses.
” She grinned, revealing her own sharp fangs.
“Even though you look like you’re carved from ice. ”
I raised an eyebrow. “No, I suppose now isn’t the time to kill each other.” My mind flicked to Ilyana. Had she known this vampiress? Odd that this particular friend hadn’t surfaced during my investigation.
“I’m Felicity Drevanaud.” She executed a mock curtsy that was somehow both graceful and ridiculous.
“Fourth daughter of the Drevanaud family, which means I’m here because I have absolutely nothing to lose and everything to prove.
Also, I may have accidentally insulted a council member at the last gathering. This seemed preferable to beheading.”
A flicker of relief threaded through me. At least I hadn't overlooked her in my reconnaissance. Caution still coiled tight beneath my ribs. Vampires wore charm like a mask, and behind her smile, something could lurk that was far sharper than fangs.
Her cheer dimmed. “Though the gentle insistence—and by gentle, I mean the complete absence of choice my parents provided—also played a role.” She laughed, a sound like bells. “And you’re either very brave or very stupid to show up here with no devotees behind you. Possibly both.”
Yet beneath the lightness, I sensed something else. A flicker of steel flashed in her red eyes when she mentioned having nothing to lose. I got the impression this was someone who had learned to survive by making others underestimate her.
Mathias’s voice cut through our whispered conversation. “The testing will now begin. Candidates, you will approach the Flask of Dominion and place its necklace around your throat. The artifact will judge your worth. I suggest you make your peace with the goddess now.”
The first contestant stepped forward, a tall vampiress with elaborately braided hair and enough jewelry to outfit a small army.
She held up the chain with reverent hands and clasped it around her neck.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then the flask pulsed white once, twice, and settled into a steady glow.
No one moved. Not even a whisper.
“Accepted,” Mathias announced.
A low murmur rippled through the room as the crowd relaxed and conversations continued.
The second contestant was a striking woman with raven-black hair swept into an elegant chignon.
Her pale skin contrasted sharply with the deep crimson of her velvet gown.
Silver rings adorned every finger, and her confident stride suggested nobility, or at least the pretense of it.
She lifted the chain, settling it around her slender neck as if she'd done this a hundred times before.
The flask pulsed twice, then settled into that familiar steady glow.
“Accepted,” came Mathias's voice, and she stepped back with a satisfied smile.
The third aspirant stepped forward with an air of supreme confidence. She was a petite woman with auburn curls piled atop her head, her emerald dress cut daringly low. Her lips curved as she practically snatched the chain from Mathias’s hands.
She draped the necklace around her throat, chin tilted upward as if posing for a portrait.
The flask began to pulse once, twice, then the glow brightened into a white-hot blaze like a miniature sun.
Her smug expression melted into confusion, then pure terror.
She clawed at the chain, desperate to pull it away from her skin.
“No! I’m of pure bloodline!” she shrieked.
The crowd collectively inhaled, some leaning forward, others instinctively stepping back.
In the front rows, several vampires exchanging meaningful glances and coin purses.
A grizzled vampire in a midnight-blue coat grinned as he pocketed what looked like a substantial sum from his pale-faced neighbor.
The woman’s scream cut through the air for several seconds before the light consumed her entirely.
Her body didn’t just crumble—it exploded into a shower of silver ash that sparkled in the torchlight before settling on the stone floor.
The emerald dress collapsed in on itself, empty fabric falling with a soft whisper around the pristine necklace.
The silence that followed was deafening. Then, the murmurs began again, barely audible whispers over the pounding of my own heart.
Up on the dais, Mathais’s expression flickered, jaw tightened and a brief narrowing of his eyes, but it was enough. He waited for the crowd to settle, his expression neutral, as if he’d just witnessed someone trip rather than spontaneously combust.
“The Flask does not care who your father is when it tastes your soul.” He gestured almost casually to a servant, who swept the ashes into a small silver urn.
“Next,” the regent called, and I noticed more coin purses being discretely exchanged throughout the audience.
Oh hells, the Flask really does kill aspirants. I worried that my ashes were about to join hers and that someone in this crowd was already calculating the odds on my survival.
Most candidates passed. Yet twice, the reaction was different. The eighth challenger suffered the same fate, her confident smirk vanishing as the artifact rendered its final judgment.
“Next,” Mathias announced.
My stomach clenched as I realized it was my turn. I stepped forward, acutely aware of every eye in the room fixed upon me. The chain lay waiting next to the Flask, which pulsed with the hypnotic motions of Eona’s blood.
This was it. This moment would either cement my disguise or expose me as a fraud.
My fingers closed around the necklace, trembling despite my resolve.
It proved lighter than I expected, delicate, but the warmth blooming against my palm hinted at something far heavier.
I lifted it toward my throat, the silver chain catching the light like a whispered promise, which made me wonder whether I was about to be accepted… or incinerated.