Chapter 4
"The king marked her."
"She doesn't understand a word."
"He has not chosen a flower like this since the queen."
"It should have been me."
"He named her Songbird."
"I would not mind tasting something so sweet."
"Such a lovely little thing."
"...flower..."
"...taste..."
"...exotic..."
The moon-spell was already unraveling.
Penny kept her eyes closed.
Pretending to sleep.
The words drifted in and out of meaning, breaking apart faster with every passing moment.
Soon she would lose them entirely.
The voices moved away.
Laughter followed.
Then silence.
Penny's hand crept toward the vase beside her bed.
Fresh roses waited inside crystal water.
One more petal.
A few more hours of understanding.
Footsteps approached.
She snatched her hand back.
Too late.
The attendants had arrived.
The vampire women entered in simple gowns the color of midnight.
Not one of them spoke.
They moved around her with practiced efficiency, stripping away the white viewing dress and replacing it with a soft robe.
Penny stood rigid while pale fingers adjusted sleeves and smoothed fabric.
Then one attendant turned her.
Not toward the room.
Toward the glass.
Penny blinked.
People stood outside. Young vampire men.
Half a dozen of them.
Dressed in fine court clothes.
Watching.
The crystal walls distorted them slightly, turning faces into blurred shapes and reflected candlelight, but she could still see enough.
Curious eyes.
Amused smiles.
One openly staring at her legs.
Penny's stomach dropped.
The attendant's hand settled beneath her chin and turned her slightly.
Displaying her.
The realization hit like cold water.
One of the young men pointed.
Another laughed.
Then someone's gaze landed on the fading bite at her throat.
The entire group reacted at once.
Some groaned.
One said things Penny was sure was swearing.
Another looked openly jealous.
Whatever had been said, everyone understood the same thing.
The king had claimed her.
A faint smile touched the attendant's lips.
She left Penny facing the glass a moment longer.
Just long enough for the message to settle.
Then the group drifted away.
Disappointed.
Like guests leaving a banquet after discovering the best dish had already been reserved.
The attendants led her out into the cooling evening air.
Other crystal rooms glowed among the trees.
Other flowers were being prepared.
Some stood while attendants braided ribbons through their hair.
Others were already dressed in white silk.
Nearly all had observers.
Groups of young noblemen lingered outside the crystal walls, talking, laughing, watching.
Penny caught a glimpse of a girl from the ship.
Or thought she did.
Dark red hair. Familiar eyes.
Then the crowd swallowed her from view.
The attendants continued down the path.
Moonlit shadows drifted between the trees.
Lanterns awakened one by one beneath the branches.
Just beyond Penny's crystal room, the marble fountain had changed.
Steam curled from the basin.
Flower petals floated across dark water.
Lanterns surrounded the edge, turning the bath into a stage.
Penny stopped.
"No."
The word never left her mouth.
But she shook her head.
At home, bathing meant a wooden tub beside the fire.
A closed door.
Privacy.
The attendants guided her forward anyway.
The robe slipped from her shoulders.
Cool evening air brushed across her skin.
Penny gasped.
Immediately, she tried to cover herself.
One attendant caught both wrists.
Another guided her backward into the steaming water.
Penny fought.
Not because she believed she could win.
Because she didn't know how not to.
The attendants barely seemed to notice.
Her mother's stories had not exaggerated vampire strength.
Heat flooded her face.
Someone was talking nearby.
A laugh followed.
Penny looked up.
One vampire was walking away on the path.
But another vampire stayed, not swayed by the display of the king's mark.
Dark sea-green velvet.
One shoulder resting against a tree.
Openly watching.
Not hiding it.
Watching the way someone might watch musicians tuning instruments before a performance.
The attendants calmly continued their work.
One washed her hair.
Another poured warm water over her shoulders.
Another moved a soft cloth scented with sweet floral soap along her body as if guiding a tour for those watching.
And she felt the eyes taking in every movement.
Every time the attendant bent to rewet the cloth, Penny folded inward to hide herself from his eyes.
And every time, patient, strong hands unfolded her again.
The realization settled heavily in her stomach.
This wasn't a bath.
It was a dance of presentation, practiced for hundreds of years.
The vampire beneath the tree remained while the attendants lifted her from the water.
Water slid down her skin and dripped from her hair.
One attendant wrapped her in towels scented with old magic, which quickly dried her.
A blanket was spread beside the path, and Penny was guided down onto it.
Only one attendant remained.
She sat beside Penny as though they were friends sharing a picnic beneath the lanterns.
The illusion lasted all of three seconds.
The attendant began weaving ribbons through Penny's hair.
Patient fingers arranging Penny for the evening.
Like a priestess preparing an offering.
Or a butcher garnishing a feast.
The thought sent a chill through Penny.
The garden had become busy.
Flowers were everywhere now.
Some were being bathed.
Some were being dressed while on display in their crystal display cases.
The crystal rooms glowed among the trees like lanterns.
And the paths between them had filled with vampires.
Not rushing.
Strolling. Browsing.
Penny watched one stop beside a dark-haired girl being dressed in another pavilion.
He spoke briefly to her attendants.
They smiled.
One turned the girl slowly in place.
Showing her from every angle.
The vampire considered her.
Then moved on.
As casually as someone passing over pastries in a bakery window.
Penny's stomach tightened.
The attendant beside her continued braiding.
When vampires approached Penny's blanket, cold fingers would slide gently along her throat.
Drawing attention to the king's mark.
The reaction was always immediate.
Disappointment. Frustration. Jealousy.
One noble rolled his eyes and kept walking.
Another laughed and said something that made his companions groan.
A third lingered long enough to study her before finally moving on.
Like a man staring through glass at something he could never buy.
The attendant never said a word.
She didn't need to.
The mark spoke for her.
The king's flower.
Reserved.
Unavailable.
Not for sampling.
At last, the attendant produced a small silver mirror.
Penny looked.
And forgot to breathe.
A stranger stared back.
Her hair spilled in golden waves threaded with ribbons and tiny flowers.
Her skin glowed from the bath.
The white gown softened every hard edge she had ever known.
She looked like the sort of girl sailors wrote songs about.
Not the daughter of a fishing village.
Not the girl who smelled of salt and seaweed and sun-dried nets.
Penny wanted her old clothes.
The rough wool.
The wind tangled in her braids.
The smell of the ocean clung to everything she owned.
She knew who she had been in those clothes.
This girl in the mirror looked like she didn't belong to herself.
The worst part was that the garden seemed to agree.
At last, the attendant rose and guided Penny toward the great wooden doors.
They opened before her.
Music spilled into the garden.
The ball was beginning.
Penny glanced back once.
Lanterns glowed among the trees like fallen stars.
Vampires drifted through the moonlit paths.
Human flowers followed after them.
The garden looked beautiful from a distance.
That frightened her most.
The attendant squeezed her hand gently and led her forward.
Cold stone corridors swallowed them.
Twisting passages.
Silent turns.
A maze built by creatures who never feared becoming lost.
Then they stopped before towering crystal doors.
The attendants opened them.
The ballroom exploded into light.
Chandeliers blazed overhead.
Musicians tuned strings in one corner.
Beyond open glass doors, the ocean glittered beneath the moon.
And every face in the room turned toward her.
Penny froze.
A hundred conversations died.
A hundred pairs of eyes settled on her.
Recognition moved through the room like a ripple through water.
She didn't understand the words.
But she understood she was the only human in the room.
A rare thing amongst whispering vampires.
She spotted the vampire in sea-green velvet among the crowd.
The one who had watched her bath.
He wasn't the only one.
They all looked hungry.
The ballroom felt suddenly smaller.
At the far end of the room stood two black thrones upon a raised dais.
And seated upon the larger one
The king.
His gaze found her immediately.
The nobles speaking with him fell silent.
Stepped back.
Dismissed without a word.
The king rose.
The movement drew every eye in the ballroom.
Not because he was king.
Because everyone wanted to see what he would do next.
Penny felt it then.
Not directed at the king.
At her.
The king crossed the marble floor slowly.
Tonight he wore black velvet.
His pale skin seemed almost luminous beneath the chandeliers.
He circled her once.
Deliberately.
The way a collector admires something acquired at ruinous cost.
And Penny understood nothing without her magic petal.
The garden had felt like a shop window.
This felt worse.
The king's mouth brushed her temple.
The corner of her jaw.
The softness beneath her ear.
Every touch lingered.
Penny stood perfectly still.
The attention felt unbearable.
The king touched her as though she belonged to him.
When his lips drifted toward hers, she turned her face away.
A ripple moved through the ballroom.
Sharp enough that even Penny heard it.
The king paused.
His breath brushed her skin.
For one terrible moment, Penny was certain she had made a mistake.
Then his mouth settled against her throat instead.
A single kiss.
Nothing more.
The king smiled.
The expression looked dangerous.
The ballroom had gone completely silent.
Penny's stomach twisted.
She felt like a rabbit that had wandered into a circle of wolves and somehow become the center of their attention.
The king raised his hand.
Penny flinched.
The movement escaped before she could stop it.
A murmur passed through the room.
The king's smile vanished as he looked at her.
Then, slowly, he reached toward his throne.
A ribbon lay across one arm.
The color of fresh blood.
Penny stood frozen while he stepped behind her.
The ribbon brushed her throat.
Then settled there.
His fingers lingered briefly over the pulse beneath his mark.
The touch made the room feel even quieter.
Then he tied a small bow at the back of her neck.
The crimson ribbon spilled down her back almost to the floor.
The king said something.
The court answered.
Penny understood none of it.
But something changed.
She felt it immediately.
The room tightened around her.
Whatever had just happened
Everyone else understood it.
Everyone except her.
Penny looked up at the king, desperate as terror clawed at her insides.
Trying to read the answer in his face.
Because she was the only human in a room full of hungry vampires.
The ribbon felt unbearably heavy against her throat.
The way hunters tied bright cloth to traps so they could find them again in the dark.
The way fishermen marked their nets before returning to collect what had been caught.
The king had wrapped it around her neck in front of everyone.
And now everyone was staring.
For what, she didn't know.
That frightened her most of all.
She swallowed hard.
Her fingers twitched toward the ribbon before she stopped herself.
She wanted it off.
Instead, she stood frozen beneath a hundred hungry eyes.
And had the horrible feeling she had just stepped into a deadly game.
Something everyone in the room understood except her.
She wouldn't refuse him again.
Not if she survived long enough for another chance.
Her gaze darted through the crowd.
The vampire in green velvet still watched her.
Hungrily.
Panic tightened around her ribs.
The old song slipped into her mind before she could stop it.
She shaped the spell into the melody.
By every glance and lingering sigh,
By all the words we've left to try,
Let courage find him, soft and sweet,
And bring his lips to mine to meet.
One wish I whisper to the night:
Let him kiss me before midnight.
The spell struck the king's magic and dissolved.
Like rain against stone.
But the king watched the final note leave her lips as though she had sung the stars into existence.
His thumb tenderly brushed her mouth.
Yet he did not attempt to kiss her again.
Instead, his arms slipped around her.
Holding her with something dangerously close to reverence while he whispered words she could not understand into her hair.
Then Penny noticed the woman seated behind him.
For a moment, she forgot to breathe.
Not because the woman was beautiful.
Many women in the ballroom were beautiful.
This was something else.
The woman sat upon the second throne.
Silver embroidery climbed across a gown so dark red it looked black beneath the chandeliers.
Diamonds glittered at her throat.
Her posture was perfect.
Her expression was calm.
Only her hands betrayed her.
Her fingers dug into the carved arms of the throne.
White-knuckled.
Still.
Not moving at all.
The queen wasn't watching Penny.
Not at first.
She was watching the king.
Watching the way his hand rested against Penny's waist.
Watching the way he held her.
Watching the way his attention never drifted.
Then the queen's eyes lifted.
Met Penny's.
Cold swept through her instantly.
Penny knew that look.
Every girl did.
It was the look that appeared in stories moments before poison found the wine.
The queen wanted her gone.