Chapter 5 #3
But the pair of them cut her off, bellowing savage insults at each other.
I can’t make out who did what. But these two make Octavia and I look like child’s play.
If they weren’t already covered in blood, I’d be gobsmacked if their words didn’t slash fatal wounds across their bodies.
Scarlett, stood at the back, closes her eyes and takes a heavy breath.
It’s Daria that shuts them up. “Quiet.” One soft word, but it severs their argument like fangs in a throat. “We have a bigger problem.”
“What is it now?” Morrigan says.
My body grows hot, not because of Morrigan, but because as I skirt around the group, I realise the blonde—I should stop calling her that, maybe legs would do instead? Princess? Deviant? Fuck toy?
I ought to stop objectifying her too. Fine, Penelope…
has her baby blues set squarely on me. They drag down my body like she’s stripping me, layer by layer, dirty girl.
Only as I cock my head to watch her do I realise she’s giving off the air of a very straight woman.
Such a challenge. Maybe I’ll toaster oven her and make her gay just for me.
I mean, I am that good. And she did kiss me. There’s hope yet.
Another woman comes sprinting down the hall. She looks the spit of Scarlett but with shorter hair.
“What the hell happened?” she says.
“Oh gods, Stirling,” Morrigan says and flings herself at the woman. Stirling glances at Scarlett, they share a series of expressions that reek of Gabriel and me.
Twins.
I’d bet money on it with communication like that.
Stirling kisses Morrigan, smearing the blood away before sliding her arm around her waist and tugging her in tight.
“You were saying, Daria,” Queen Calandra says.
Daria takes a deep breath. “Given the severity of the situation, and the fact that the wedding is in just under two days, all of our guards are otherwise engaged. With the investigation, the forward planning for the wedding, manning the gates, providing cover for Morrigan and yourself, we are stretched to capacity.”
“And?” Penelope says, throwing that dramatic hand on her hip again.
“And therefore, I am out of guards. There’s no one left to protect Penelope, and given the events of this evening, I find that to be of critical importance. Someone clearly has it out for her. We can’t afford to have her wandering the palace unguarded.”
The princess’s pert little nose flares, just enough to spark an overwhelming urge within me to sit on it. Naked.
Penelope huffs. “I am here, you know. You can speak directly to me, Daria.”
Daria slowly turns to face Penelope. The pair of them stare at each other for one very long second. It’s the most potent silence I’ve ever witnessed. Penelope opens her mouth right as Queen Calandra says, “What do you suggest, Daria?”
Daria’s facade cracks, the tiniest of fissures in her sharp features. As if she’s been taken to the precipice of a cliff only to realise she’s afraid of heights.
Her shoulders give an almost imperceptible sag. “I… I don’t actually know. I’d already reached out to all my contractors because of the wedding, and they’ve sent all the men they can spare. I even asked some of my fae assassin contacts, but they’re all busy.”
“What are you saying?” Calandra says, her eyes skittish.
“We’re on our own and at full capacity.” I almost feel sorry for Daria. For a woman so hard, she seems almost broken, as if she’s never known failure. Finally, she looks up, but directly at Stirling. One by one, each of the magicians turn to Stirling too, their expressions expectant.
Stirling shrugs. “I always know a girl. Of course I do. What about Lana?”
Daria shakes her head. “Perimeter duty.”
Stirling pouts. “Jackson is excellent.”
Daria nods confirmation of the excellent. “They are, but they’re on royal guest duties.”
Stirling pouts, scratches her chin and tries again. “Harlon Lexville?”
Daria audibly sighs. “Taken down with flu yesterday afternoon.”
Rouge climbs up Stirling’s neck, as she visibly searches for another name. “I mean…” she laughs, nervous and twitchy. “I always know a girl. Of course I do…”
“Well, do you think you could share it with us?” Daria says, checking her watch.
Ooft, savage. Gabriel was right, watching someone else’s family drama is rather fun. Stirling swallows hard, and if I had a single ounce of fucks to give, I might feel sorry for her, but I’m a sadistic arsehole and take great pleasure in watching her squirm.
She pulls up suddenly. “Wait. I do know a girl. Or at least, Octavia… didn’t you say—”
Stirling turns to me.
I frown, glance at Octavia, then to Stirling, whose eyes have narrowed at me. They’re glimmering in the way a vampire’s do right before they sink their teeth in for a kill.
I take a step back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Octavia’s eyes widen as a grin pulls across her mouth. “Mmm yes, good idea,” she says, nodding at me.
“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” I say.
But Octavia is already nodding like an aggressive puppy at Stirling. “Yes, yes, of course. I mean, she did save Penelope tonight…”
I hold my palm up to stop proceedings. “I hardly call dragging a reluctant princess outside, saving,” I say while staring at my sister with the most intense What the fuck? face I can muster. But then I remember she’s not Gabriel and doesn’t actually read my mind.
I lower my voice to quiet enough only my siblings can hear and try not to move my lips. “You promised me a party, and I promised my best behaviour. What are you doing?”
Octavia beams and flings an unwanted arm around my shoulders.
“She would be delighted and of course, she was head of the army for centuries. Has significant skills in strategic attacks and defence, trained in multiple forms of combat. You’d be honoured, wouldn’t you…”
I say nothing, but peel her arm from around my neck.
“Wouldn’t you… Dahlia?” She elbows me in the ribs.
Penelope barges into the centre of the conversation, her limbs flapping. “I’m sorry, but much as you were a dashing white knight earlier, I am not having some vampire as a bodyguard. Have you all lost your minds and forgotten the last millennia of hatred?” She shoves a hand on her hip.
I cock my head at her. There’s those brat vibes again. Heat pools between my legs. What I’d give to bend her over my knee and make her beg for another slap.
No.
Dammit, I can’t be dealing with a woman like that. I’m here to have fun. Not babysit a ball ache.
I dig in. “Good, because I’m not inclined to guard a spoilt brat of a princess anyway.”
Octavia, Xavier, Stirling and Gabriel all suck in a breath.
Penelope staggers a few steps away like I slapped her.
Her brows shoot up. Wasn’t expecting that were you, little brat?
I’ll bet no one has ever spoken back to her.
Put her in her place. This is the problem with spoilt rich kids.
No discipline. No order or structure or rules. She’s just a feral fucking princess.
She glowers at me like she wants to yank my fangs out.
I stare just as hard, knowing I’d rather enjoy digging those fangs into her cheeks—and not the ones on her face.
But I won’t because Octavia owes me for behaving.
I swear it’s about time we found the bar, I heard this place is dripping with Sangui Cupa.
The silence is so thick it could drown a bag of kittens. No one moves until Morrigan snorts out loud like a small pig. She bends double and bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, please, Mother. They’re simply perfect for each other.”
I smile, smug, nodding agreement.
Until her words repeat in my mind, and the smile falls rather rapidly off my face.
Wait. What? No.
The nod turns to a virulent shake.
To my utter horror, Queen Calandra cracks a smile, the drying blood flaking off as she tries and fails to suppress a laugh.
“What is happening?” Penelope shrieks.
Morrigan—now crying with laughter—wipes the tears away. “This might just make up for the dinner. Goodnight, Mama. I’m going to get showered.”
With that, she drags Stirling off, and two guards follow after them.
Calandra, hesitant, steps forward and takes my hand.
“I need an oath, if you will. I know it’s unconventional, and as much as she’s a pain in my royal arse, I adore my daughter. Both of my daughters. And, well, you are a vampire. So. If you’ll excuse me, while I can see that you’re physically qualified…”
She tentatively pats my bicep.
Pats it.
Fully flat palmed, like I’m a fucking dog.
What in the ever-loving fuck is happening here?
Calandra steps back. “I do require some level of guarantee.”
I glance from Octavia to the queen, my expression screaming ‘help me’. Gabriel would have read it, but he’s not so subtly using his book to cover his mouth, which, I suspect, is laughing in time with the bounce of his shoulders. Prick.
It’s Xavier that comes to my rescue.
“Your Majesty,” he starts, that familiar silk gliding through his tone.
“Xavier,” Octavia growls.
Xavier clears his throat, takes the compulsion out of his voice and tries again.
“Your Majesty. We are here to begin peace negotiations. What good would it do for us to take on the role of bodyguards only to allow harm to come to your daughter? I fear that may spell the end of any relationship our kinds could have with each other for yet another millennium.”
“Well said,” Octavia says, clapping him on the arm.
Scarlett interjects this time. “I’ve fought beside them all. Well. Maybe not the bookworm. But Octavia, Xavier and Dahlia, in particular, are exceptionally talented in the art of war. I vouch for her.”
I have to fight off succumbing to the compliment because, of course, I am exceptionally talented at war.
BUT NO.
What a fucking traitor. That’s the last time I save my siblings or Scarlett from a demon in a nightclub.
Octavia shrugs that bloody arm around my shoulder again.
I crane my head up to check whether she’s lost her fucking mind.
I attempt to knock her off, but she holds me in place with her vampire grip.
“You have my personal assurance that Dahlia will guard Penelope with her life. Won’t you? ”
I open my mouth, ready to spit poison on her.
“Won’t you, Dahlia?” she urges.
Gabriel, Red and Xavier all huddle around me like I’m being presented as a prize.
Sacrificed, more like.
Octavia lowers her voice to vampire quiet. “Please, Dahlia, I need this. It will solidify our partnership and bring a new era of peace in. I’ll owe you…”
That makes my ears prick up.
“Owe me what?” I whisper.
“Whatever it takes.”
I take in her expression. Oh, for the love of blood, she’s got that sincere, soft look in her eyes. In all the years I’ve known her, I don’t think she’s a) made such a request, or b) left the reward so open.
I slump against her.
“You owe me big,” I say through gritted teeth.
The queen inclines her head, takes my hand and shakes it once. “New Imperium thanks you for your service.”
It’s the princess that ends the conversation. “Mother. Fucker,” she shrieks and storms off down the hallway.
Oh, I am going to enjoy this.