Chapter 8
Every Blackwood pureblood stands in the room I spent most of the day cleaning yesterday, as Amabel’s guards stand watch over us.
They like to act powerful here since it’s the only place they truly can.
Among their own kind, they’re at the bottom of the pecking order, so I suppose this gives them the ego boost they need.
It’s been twenty minutes since we were all woken up and told to gather in the hall.
Apparently, Amabel has an announcement—and I’m fairly certain I already know what it is.
If Julian is right and the prince is really coming here, then it makes perfect sense why she has had us cleaning around the clock.
It’s not every day a prince visits a bloodhouse.
Why should he when he has his own purebloods at his beck and call?
He has no use for a place like this. Good thing none of the others know about his visit yet, otherwise they would have spent the entire morning gushing over it and planning ways to get his attention.
It’s no secret that nobles buy purebloods that catch their attention.
My eyes meet with Tori’s across the room, her eyes reflecting the same sadness I have in mine. I spent the entire night crying over Willow. I allowed myself one day to be sad. This morning, I woke up angry and ready to take my vengeance, and if that starts with killing the prince, then so be it.
The door to the hall opens, and Amabel walks in dressed head to toe in a dark navy dress that hugs every curve and dip of her body.
Her almost black hair is slicked back in a meticulous bun that she sweeps her fingers over before her catlike eyes scan the room.
When she’s satisfied that all the chairs and tables have been put back in place, ready for tonight’s service, she continues forward.
Two vampires flank her from behind, keeping watch over her as though she were a precious commodity.
I may hate her, but she is one of the most beautiful humans I’ve ever laid eyes on.
It’s no wonder Lissian is always fawning over her whenever he visits.
“Good morning, purebloods.”
“Good morning,” we all sing in unison. A rehearsed response drilled into us from the day we arrived at the bloodhouse. She weaves her way through the tables until she is standing in the center of the room as everyone watches in anticipation.
“I am not one to waste time, so I am going to keep it short. In four nights, Blackwood Bloodhouse will be hosting the crown prince along with the royal council.”
A chorus of gasps moves across the room like a wave—or at least how I imagine it would move since I’ve never actually seen the sea before.
“They will dine in one of our private rooms, and as is customary, they will each be assigned a donor to fulfill their needs for the night.”
My ears prick at her words, and I know that the only way I’m going to be able to get close enough to the prince to kill him is if I’m chosen as his donor.
And then what? Slaughter him in a room full of nobles?
Of course not. I just need to get close, and then I can make a plan.
Athriel laughs.
As I said before, you are always jumping into things without thought.
Did you not hear what Julian said? I don’t have time.
There is always time if you intend to do the job correctly.
I didn’t ask for your advice, I snap.
You never do.
Then take the hint.
He falls silent, and I know my words have annoyed him, but I don’t care. He knows how important it is for me to save Willow. If I had any other option, then I would take it. But I don’t.
“I have thought long and hard about who I will choose as the donors for the evening, so please listen up, and if your name is called, then please remain behind so I can speak with you. The Blackwood family donor is as follows…”
Amabel’s voice fades into the background as I send a silent prayer up to the lost gods that luck will be on my side.
Amabel and I rarely see eye to eye. She often points out that I’m too reckless and a rule breaker.
I honestly believe she would have had me removed from the bloodhouse and sold if not for the potency of my blood.
It’s blood like mine that allows her to charge the prices she does.
“…Trina, you will serve Vaughn Vancova. And finally…” My stomach tightens as I await her final donor selection. “Tori, you will serve the crown prince.”
Tori’s eyes lock with mine, horror filling her face as we both take in Amabel’s words.
“Except for the names I called out, you are all dismissed.”
The room erupts into noise as the purebloods’ excitement circles around the room. I see Tori bounding toward me as I stand frozen in place.
“I’m going to fix this. I will tell her I don’t want to do it. I’ll suggest you.”
“This is what you’ve always wanted. Getting an opportunity like this could get you the attention of a high noble. You could be taken to live on their estate and have a shot at freedom. I can’t ask this of you.”
I want to. Gods—but asking her to give up her dream for me and Willow would be cruel.
She steps forward, crowding my space.
“You and Willow are my family.” She tips her head back, and I can see the tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “I would do anything for my family. Sacrifice anything.”
“It’s not fair,” I tell her.
“Nothing in this life is fair, Adina.”
She looks at me with such fierce determination that I’m lost for words. I wrap my arms around her.
“You are the best friend I could have ever asked for.”
“I hope you remember that next time I ask for your portion of cake at dinner.”
A laugh erupts from me, and we stand in an embrace. Remembering where we are and how many eyes are on us, I finally step back.
“Thank you.” My words are a whisper amongst the fading crowd.
She simply nods.
“I’ll catch up with you soon, ok?”
“Ok.”
“What do you mean she said no?” The question has way more venom than I intended, but Tori’s revelation is like a knife to the chest. If Amabel won’t let me take Tori’s donor spot, then I’m screwed, and so is Willow.
It would be different if Tori had said no, but now that I know she wants to do this, I’m not going to allow Amabel to take away my final bit of hope.
“She said something about protocol and that once the prince’s team has received the name of his donor, it cannot be changed.”
I find myself pacing back and forth as Tori’s eyes track my every move.
“That’s bullshit, and she knows it. I’ve seen her swap donors at the last minute several times for stupid reasons.”
Tori sits on my bed.
“I know. It almost felt like she said no on purpose. It was like she was trying to spite me.”
“Not you. Me.”
“But wh—” she cuts herself off as a knowing look fills her face. “Jace. This is because you tried to help him.”
“She’s teaching me a lesson.”
“Maybe Cora can talk to her. She might know the right thing to say.”
“No, I don’t want her involved in this.” After Tori and I came back from the bloodring, I told her everything about how I first heard Athriel’s voice, how Cora covered for me, and how she and my mother were best friends. “She’s already helped enough.”
She nods in agreement.
“I could pretend to be sick on the night, then she’d have to choose someone else.”
I move to the small dresser, fiddling with the items scattered across its surface. Willow used to tidy it whenever she came in. She said the mess stressed her out. I smile at the memory before reality wipes it away.
“No. Vampires become too suspicious when a human is sick, and I’m not letting you risk being executed. Besides, she would only choose someone else.”
I’m pretty sure Amabel has always hated me.
Since the day I arrived from the orphanage, she has treated me differently from the others.
My blood is by far the most potent, yet she offers opportunities that should be mine to the other girls.
It’s as though she’s punishing me for something I don’t quite understand.
It’s like punishments and threats are the only language she speaks.
Threats. The word rings inside my mind like a morning temple bell.
No, Athriel says.
It’s the best idea I have.
It’s the kind of idea that will get you killed, he warns.
I don’t have a choice. If I’m ever going to see Willow again, I have to kill the prince, and to do that, I need to be his donor.
If your thoughts are correct, then he is a lethal opponent. One you are not ready for.
I’m lethal, I say.
No, you’re arrogant and foolish.
I’m not asking for your permission, Athriel.
“I need to go,” I tell Tori. She stands abruptly, her eyes pinning me suspiciously.
“You have that look again. Adina, what are you planning to do?”
“I’m going to talk to Amabel, and when I’m done, the prince’s donor spot will be mine.”
“No.” The vampire answers, his thick arms folding over his chest as he scowls down at me. Bastard.
“I need to speak with her. It’s urgent.”
His red eyes skim over me as though I’m no more than an insect he’s deciding whether to crush. He should be more worried about asking for a larger uniform before that button, clinging for dear life, finally gives way and snaps free of the last blue thread holding it in place.
Laughter fills my head, and I can feel Athriel’s amusement coating the walls of my mind.
“Amabel only takes appointments, and you do not have one. Go back to your room before I drag you there.”
I square my shoulders, taking a stand, but before either of us can react, the door swings open.
“Let the girl in,” Amabel says as she leans against the door frame, a touch of amusement curling her lips upwards.
I pull a face at the vampire and can see the restraint it takes for him not to rip my head off.
I brush past him as I go, sweeping through the doorway like I own the place.
The last time I was in here, I was talking to Julian, and things didn’t go so well.
This time, I intend for it to go very differently.