Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
WHY CHOOSE?
We’ve been at Versailles for three days and, despite my initial qualms, our plan seems to be working.
Vindhof are back onside, and my parents are working on Artos Ravenna.
Maybe I should have been kinder about Stella, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.
Stella could have been kinder about me, too.
I’ve seen Ilias Ravenko a few times, and he’s always been polite; apparently, he and Father used to fight together, so Father is leaning on that relationship in the hopes of changing his mind.
I miss Sophie, though. She’s staying on the coach – it felt safer than bringing her into a palace filled with vampires.
We’ve been messaging and calling whenever we can; she screamed with delight when I told her about Joaquin.
I can’t wait to be back on board, travelling with her, laughing in the cockpit.
But there’s still work to do, so I’m making sure I’m seen, every moment I can be.
I woke the day after the ball to a still shuttered room.
No crowds of gawking vampires at the foot of my bed this time, though.
Instead, just my mother, sitting on her gilt chair, a curious expression on her face.
And Joaquin, lounging in long-limbed splendour on a silk-covered divan, watching me.
I blushed, clutching my covers, feeling stripped bare.
‘He sent them all away,’ my mother whispered later, as she brushed my hair to smoothness. ‘Told them they’d seen enough, that you needed to be left in peace.’ She smiled at me in the mirror. ‘I think he may like you.’
I think I might like him, as well.
However, more importantly, I can see how useful he would be.
It sounds cold-blooded, but I’ve been burned twice, first by Kyle, then Michael.
Both of them choosing someone else over me.
I remember standing in the Costume room, next to my mother’s wedding gown, thinking about love, and whether or not Michael was right for me.
And how alone I’ve felt, since he left. I don’t want to be at the mercy of love again.
It’s time for me to choose. And I mean to do so for power, this time.
I’m also conscious of time passing. The next Gathering, where I’ll be declared the official heir, is in a couple of weeks.
I’ll be anointed on the first night; the second night, fealty, when all the families pledge their allegiance to Raven.
On the third night, I choose a lieutenant from those assembled.
Deryck is a possibility, but he reminds me so much of Michael I’m not sure it’s a wise choice.
But I don’t really know anyone else, despite making the effort to talk to people these past few days.
I wonder whether Mistral will show up at the Gathering, especially as support for their Challenge seems to be collapsing.
Not coming to the heir’s anointing is tantamount almost to a declaration of war, so it would be a bold move.
But showing up to a Raven event, when you’ve made a big public challenge like that, is also a bold move.
I try not to think of Michael, of what he might be enduring with his brothers.
I’m trying not to think of Michael at all, especially when Joaquin’s around. It’s not difficult to return his obvious affection; his beauty and the magnetic power of his personality are alluring, but I’m still cautious. I don’t want to be hurt again.
Yet, as he and I and Deryck lie on more of the ubiquitous silk cushions in yet another glittering salon, both of them feeding me food from silver dishes, I wonder what it would be like.
I’ve been with a vampire before, of course.
And I remember how it was when things were good between Kyle and me. How he used to touch me.
‘A penny for your thoughts, my lovely.’ Joaquin leans forward, a grape held between his long fingers. He pops it into my mouth, his touch lingering on my lips. I chew and swallow, wishing my heart wasn’t beating so wildly.
‘Oh, they’re not worth even that,’ I say, heat in my cheeks.
‘I would wager they’re worth more than rubies.’ Deryck hands me a cracker, soft cheese piled on top.
I take it from him. ‘Really, they’re not. And thank you.’
‘I enjoy watching you feed.’ He licks his lips, amusement flickering in his darkening gaze.
Oh God. Now I’m totally self-conscious. I glare at him and put the cracker down, reaching for my drink instead.
‘Tell me, Deryck,’ Joaquin says, ‘is your family home near here? You have, what, a little castle, right?’
‘It’s actually quite a large castle. One of the largest in Europe.’
I get the feeling they’re not actually talking about castles.
‘Is that so?’ Joaquin grins. ‘Do you hear that, Emelia? One of the largest in Europe. Of course, where I come from, our palaces are as large as cities. This place—’ he waves his hand ‘—would just be one small part of it.’
‘Tell me, when will you be returning to them?’ Deryck’s brows lower. ‘I hope it’s soon.’
‘I’ll go back when I’m ready.’ Joaquin trails his fingers along my shoulder.
The blonde vampire reclining opposite us winks at me.
It’s the same one who winked at me the night of the ball.
Joaquin introduced her as Selene, his cousin and one of his closest friends.
Her gaze rakes lazily across me, the jade crescent moon hanging from one of her ears catching the faint lamplight.
Each member of Joaquin’s entourage wears a different earring. Joaquin’s is a jaguar, of course.
Selene reaches for the wrist of a blood dancer, his muscled half-naked form reclining with us.
I smiled at him as we sat down, but he just bowed his head then looked away.
She bites down, suckling his flesh, turning to him like a lover.
The movement causes her jacket to gape, revealing one pale breast. I look away.
‘Are you shy, lovely one?’ Joaquin strokes my cheek with the back of his hand, one corner of his mouth curving. ‘Selene does not mind if you watch.’
I turn my head … to see Selene, still sucking on the dancer’s wrist, her other hand down the front of his trousers, pumping him. Oh darkness. I can’t control my reaction, my lip curling, my brows drawing together.
‘What is it?’ Joaquin’s voice is close to my ear, as he plays with a lock of my hair. ‘Do you not like this?’
‘No. It’s a violation.’
‘I agree.’ Deryck’s lip is curled. ‘This is not how we treat our dancers.’
‘You don’t have sex with them?’ Joaquin’s voice trails along the word, but I can’t take my eyes from Selene’s hand moving, grotesque. The young man jerks and shudders, moaning, a darker patch appearing on his trousers.
I get to my feet. This is not my scene at all. Joaquin’s hand circles my ankle. ‘Selene.’ His voice is sharp. ‘Take it elsewhere.’
‘Or stop,’ I say.
Selene releases the young man’s wrist, licking blood from her perfect lips. ‘But he’s so pretty. I’ve only just started to play,’ she pouts. Her gaze moves to me. ‘I didn’t take you for a prude, Raven, not with how you were kissing Joaquin in the gardens the other night.’
My cheeks flame. ‘That’s none of your business.’
She shrugs, the crescent moon at her ear dancing. ‘Whatever. I know what I saw. Come on.’ She pulls the young man to his feet. He looks dazed, staggering slightly.
Joaquin’s hand is still around my ankle. I consider stamping my foot. Deryck looks more annoyed than ever. Thanks a lot, I think, glaring at Selene’s departing form. I just want to go somewhere and be alone for a while.
But Joaquin’s fingers glide up my calf, then he takes my hand, pulling me down to the cushions once more.
He reaches across me, his body against mine, and retrieves another grape from the crystal bowl.
Deryck is pretty much snarling at this point.
Gods. I need to defuse this, despite how I’m responding to Joaquin.
I scramble back on the cushions, sitting up.
Joaquin turns my head, gentle, as he pops the grape in my mouth.
‘Deryck.’ His voice is a caress, his hand lingering on my face.
‘I’m sorry if I’ve already trespassed where you wanted to go.
She is irresistible, you see. I just had to make her mine.
’ His gaze sharpens, pure predator, his hand coming to rest at my waist.
Rebellion sparks. I’m not his yet. And I like Deryck. If I want to kiss him, I will. I wrench my gaze from Joaquin’s with what feels like an effort.
‘Thank you for speaking up,’ I say to Deryck. ‘I didn’t like that.’
Deryck nods, his frown clearing. ‘I didn’t like it either.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Joaquin says. ‘Where I come from, sex is natural. Nobody minds where you do it, or with whom.’ His hand tightens on my waist. I fight the urge to flinch.
‘Really? You just … do it, wherever?’
He shrugs one muscled shoulder. ‘Sure.’ He smiles. ‘Like, right now, if I was to kiss you, and young Deryck here wanted to join in, it would be fine.’
‘What about what I want?’ My mouth is dry. I resist the urge to lick my lips. My God.
‘And what is that, Emelia?’ His finger is under my jaw, tilting my head. ‘Tell me.’
A scream shatters the moment. We all turn.
There’s a rustle of fabric, the light pad of several sets of feet as a small group of vampires enters the room, all young, a mix of males and females.
Some of them are laughing. But there’s blood on one of the girls’ gowns, droplets on the pale satin skirt.
Joaquin puts his arm across me, the muscles tense. I don’t know how to handle this. Bertrand is nearby, though not in the room. However, the second I call his name I know he’ll be here.
‘Deryck! There you are. We were looking for you.’ A young woman sits down, her peach silk dress slipping from one freckled pale shoulder. She giggles. ‘Stefan is teaching us to hunt.’
‘To hunt?’ Deryck glances at me. I keep my face expressionless.
‘My father was complaining the other day, about how we’re losing our skills.
’ The young woman in bloodstained satin flops down next to her friend, rolling her eyes.
‘I guess he told Stefan’s father, who told Stefan, because now he’s dragging us through the palace, looking for prey.
’ She rubs at one of the droplets on her full skirts.
‘Prey?’ Joaquin’s voice is almost a growl. ‘Are you hunting blood dancers, then? This does not seem like sport.’
‘Stefan says it’s important to know how to hunt,’ Peach Silk says. ‘To remember who we are.’
Stefan. The name rings a bell. Then I remember his father, bending to kiss my ring. Ravenko. My only surprise is that it’s not Ravenna.
‘Why? It’s not like we need to do it anymore.’ Satin girl shrugs. ‘Our parents are worried about nothing.’
‘Please, no!’ The cry, anguished, comes from beyond the open doors.
A strapping young vampire appears, his fangs dropped, dressed in a velvet suit the colour of chocolate.
He’s dragging a struggling human behind him, a young woman in dark trousers and a white tank top, scratches on her pale skin, her red hair breaking free of the long braid.
I jump to my feet, Joaquin’s restraining hand the only thing stopping me from running forward.
It’s Sophie.