Chapter 10 #3
“Tonight is a celebration of your candidacy and the beginning of the first trial tomorrow at moonrise. Before you can enjoy the festivities, first, we will make your formal introductions to the court as its next potential queen. Hundreds of your people are waiting in the room beyond, hungry for a glimpse at the next vampiress who will shape Sanguine’s future. ”
Hungry to bet more of their stockpiles on the victor, he means.
Mathias took a few questions, though I wasn’t paying much attention. All I gleaned from his responses was that this wasn’t our chance to show off with magic or grand proclamations.
“Can you imagine how dull it’d be if they all stood up there giving speeches?” Felicity said, pitching her voice to stay with me and our two allies. “When I’m queen…”
“Free blood for all. Freshly sourced,” Emmeline said without missing a beat. The casual way she mentioned human lives as commodities reminded me exactly what I was dealing with—monsters who'd forgotten they were ever anything else.
“Oh, absolutely,” Felicity agreed, clapping her hands softly as if she’d just suggested a new flavor of cake. “Everyone is so much more agreeable when they’re well-fed. Happy vampires make for such lovely company, don't you think?”
Razira tilted her face away from them, lips flattening in disapproval. I observed for now, sure to analyze this moment in private. I’d weigh the odds of how long our alliance would last when its foundation had just developed a fault line straight through its middle.
We lined up and shuffled forward as the announcements began.
The double doors flew open. Names announced by Mathias filtered in and out of my ears.
Some, I recognized or knew the family name of.
There was Tierney Sutcliffe, whose family lived on the western outskirts of the Crimson Wharf, within spitting distance of the House of Whispers.
She’d be a fierce contender who understood all the intricacies of fighting vampires.
And Stefania Vikander, a vampiress from a filthy rich family with dealings in the underground.
I watched her tall form and even taller head of hair pass through the doors ahead of me with the same calculated steps she’d taken at the Flask ceremony.
Her name, like the others’, was met with a hail of polite applause.
Fiorella followed her, and I learned her surname as it was announced to the court. Fiorella was a Bernard, which was a noble family that nibbled at the edges of House politics.
My nerves rose as I stepped closer to the double doors. It didn’t matter that Mathias was about to declare my fake name before the court. All of my enemies’ eyes would be on me. Observing and analyzing me, adapting their own angles for the courtly games to come.
Soon I stood right on the other side of the threshold as Felicity swept ahead of me. Mathias placed his hand on her shoulder briefly, guiding her to stand along at the railing overlooking the ballroom. “Felicity Drevanaud!”
Felicity twisted her wrist to wave elegantly as the crowd gave her the same polite applause as the rest. She glanced back at Mathias, who gestured for her to descend the staircase to the right.
There were two that curved around like marble wings, connecting to create this balcony.
I’d spent more hours than I could count on my hands and knees until I could see my face in the black, silver-veined surface of each step.
After she left the balcony, Mathias motioned for me to step forward.
Instead of pointing me to the railing, he gripped my upper arm just firmly enough to stop my momentum.
Tingles flooded down to my fingertips. “Hello, Lady Ilyana.” His gaze was intent on me.
“Save a dance for me tonight. I won't take no for an answer.”
I considered telling him where his dance could go, since I had no intention of joining the festivities past being present. Yet I thought better of it only because of the gleam in his eyes as he looked down at me. There was something softer there. Maybe he already knew Ilyana. Was he…flirting?
If he was, I could see about twisting it to my advantage. “Of course, Lord Regent,” I murmured.
He nodded, returning to business as he instructed, “Step forward. Face your people as a queen would.”
I glided to the railing and rested my hands on it, looking down on the amassed crowd of monsters, unsmiling. They were not my people. From this vantage, I could make out individual faces, including the ones I hated most.
The group glittered in all their finery, but beneath the silk and jewels, I could taste their bloodlust in the air—metallic and sharp, mixing with expensive perfumes and the underlying scent of old stone. Conversations hummed with an electric undercurrent of violence barely leashed.
These creatures were apex predators playing at civility, and tomorrow night, that pretense would shatter completely. My skin prickled with the weight of calculating stares, each measuring me for weaknesses.
“Ilyana Krudelbach!” Mathias boomed.
And perhaps it was the bias of hearing them clap for a dozen other contestants, but it seemed they barely applauded for me. Good. I didn’t linger, though I did take my time on the stairs, not wanting to break an ankle by having one of my heels slip on the polished marble.
I spotted several of my fellow contestants now blended in with the crowd, their Devotions around them. For a moment, I pictured Zane waiting at the bottom step, his tanned hand outstretched to take mine. He could be here, somewhere in this crowd.
But he wasn’t waiting to escort Ilyana anywhere—no one was. I took a place at the end of the crowd and tilted my face up, watching the last few announcements from the comfort of having already gone before them.
Emmeline and Razira were next. Their mates greeted them. A complete Devotion of four for Emmeline, but only three devotees for Razira. Interesting. I wondered how quickly she would fill that last spot.
The next name snapped my focus. Genevieve Mercier: willowy, blonde, with the hollow stare I hadn’t forgotten from the ceremony.
She wore hunger like a second skin, her gaze snagging on exposed throats in a way that made the air feel thinner.
One of the human servants posted against the wall stiffened as her gaze raked over him.
When Mathias announced the last contestant, I joined the crowd in an understated sigh of relief.
I also remembered Lenore Fournier from the ceremony, where I’d already judged her no threat.
Her slight build, angular features, and skittish demeanor spoke of nerves, not power.
The same restless paranoia clung to her now as she offered a timid wave before hurrying to her Devotion.
I wondered what had possessed her to compete. She didn’t carry a family name I recognized, but perhaps they’d pushed her to attempt to seize glory anyway. Whoever had talked her into facing the Flask of Dominion had as good as shoved her off a cliff themselves.
“My people,” Mathias announced, drawing attention back to himself, standing at the railing above us. “Your future queen is among you. Feast and be merry, for only the strongest Beloved and her Devotion will survive the trials to lead our great House!”
My fingertips tingled. Yes, and it will be me. Fierce joy sang in my heart. Death was about to visit these monsters, dealt by my hands.
I doubted I was the only one thinking those very words as many of the bloodsuckers around me raised their voices into a bloodthirsty roar.
Yet even as the thought blazed through me, my eyes searched the crowd. Somewhere in this room of monsters, Zane might be watching, not knowing the woman he’d pledged to marry stood just feet away.
The weight of his ring pressed against my chest where I’d hidden it, a cold reminder of why I was here.