Chapter 7 Cyrene
CHAPTER SEVEN
CYRENE
Iyanked my hand back, the movement so sudden that my napkin slid from my lap to the floor.
Heat rushed to my cheeks. Gasps shot through the room, every vampire gaping our way.
Goblets paused mid-air, and I felt like the entire dining hall was judging my clumsiness.
The clatter of my fork against fine china echoed in the big space.
In the silence that followed, I could practically hear my standing as the new queen crumbling like a stale cookie. Even the servants along the walls stiffened, their perfectly composed faces showing the barest flicker of surprise before smoothing back into neutrality.
Wonderful. My first public appearance, and I’d already caused a scene that would probably become castle gossip before lunchtime.
Kieran’s stern advisors exchanged meaningful glances that said everything their tight-lipped mouths didn’t.
The silver-haired one, Lord Brightworthy, if I remembered correctly from the reception, shook his head.
Lady Aragorn narrowed her eyes until they were slits in her porcelain face.
I might as well have announced I was completely unfit to be queen with a banner and trumpets. If that’s what they already thought, I’d just confirmed it beyond a shadow of a doubt.
My magic, usually eager to bubble like sourdough mix in a jar, sank quietly as if it knew I needed to keep a low profile. I willed it to behave. Well, behave until breakfast was over.
Kieran leaned close, his cool breath fanning my face, carrying the scent of winter forests.
“There’s a feeding requirement in our marriage contract.
” He kept his voice low enough that only I could hear, though in a room full of vampires with supernatural hearing, privacy was probably an illusion.
“Did you not read section seven, paragraph three?”
My stomach dropped like a stone in a well. “I…might have skimmed that part.”
A hint of exasperation crossed his face, softening the severe lines around his mouth. “It’s traditional for vampire royal marriages. I need to feed from you regularly, at least once a day. Nothing excessive. Only enough to satisfy tradition and formalize our bond.”
Well, this was mortifying. I fought the urge to sink under the table and hide among the polished shoes. I remembered Grandmother handing me a stack of papers. I’d scrawled my signature at the bottom while I tried to pretend I wasn’t being forced to marry anyone.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. This was what came of agreeing to marry a vampire king.
“I won’t take much.” Kieran’s gaze held mine with surprising gentleness that reminded me, unwillingly, of the man I’d fallen for at the festival. “It won’t hurt.”
It hadn’t at the wedding ceremony. Tingling warmth had spiraled through me like sparks from a fire, awakening something in my blood I hadn’t known existed.
Nothing like the terrifying experience I’d imagined vampire bites to be from the stories my sisters and I used to whisper to each other as children.
Around the table, the court watched me with naked curiosity. Several vampires had blood smeared across their lips, the crimson stark against their pale skin. An older gentleman in emerald velvet hadn’t bothered with delicacy at all. His entire chin glistened wetly in the light.
At the far end, an older couple whispered across the table, their eyes sparkling with mischief. I half-expected a snide remark about my hair or magic.
Well, if they wanted entertainment, they were about to get it.
The advisors maintained their stony expressions, but their eyes followed my every movement. I’d bet anything they were counting the seconds until I bolted from the room like a frightened rabbit.
They were waiting for me to fail. Every single one of them.
I knew that look. I’d seen it in the eyes of my witch instructors when I’d focused on joy magic instead of the more practical arts they’d pushed.
I’d seen it when I chose to make lanterns that captured happiness rather than learning battle enchantments.
And I’d proved them wrong, hadn’t I? I’d succeeded when they’d all assumed I’d fail.
The small part of me that wanted to run dissolved, and defiance sparked through me.
I straightened my spine, squaring my shoulders beneath the cream silk of my gown. If there was one thing I wouldn’t do, it was give them the satisfaction of seeing me cower.
Instead of offering my wrist again as Kieran expected, I deliberately tilted my head, sweeping my hair aside and exposing the curve of my neck in one smooth motion.
Gasps rang out in the room again. The older woman dropped her goblet, splattering blood across the pristine tablecloth. A younger vampire at the end choked on his drink, blood sputtering from his mouth. Even the servants widened their eyes.
Shock flashed across Kieran’s normally controlled features, quickly replaced by a heat that made my skin prickle.
Offering the neck rather than the wrist was apparently a big deal in vampire culture. Good. Let them all see I wasn’t some quivering mouse they could frighten away with their judgmental stares and formal coldness.
“Cyrene,” Kieran’s voice dropped to a rough whisper, my name sounding different in his mouth than it ever had before. “You don’t need to—”
“You said it’s required.” I kept my voice steady despite the flutter in my chest. “Please. Feel welcome to dine.”
He hesitated, caught off guard. Then something shifted in his gaze, flames building, darkening his pale blue eyes to sapphire. The muscles in his jaw tensed. Slowly, carefully, he cupped the back of my neck, his touch cool on my flushed skin, his long fingers threading through the hair at my nape.
“Very well,” he said, the words vibrating across my skin as he leaned closer.
I caught the scent of him, clean winter air and something spicier, like cinnamon and clove but sharper, more dangerous.
His lips brushed my throat, softer than I expected, sending a shiver across my skin.
My heart surged against my ribs, pounding so loudly I was sure everyone at the table could hear it.
Then came the gentlest pressure of fangs, barely a pinch.
Since this was my neck, I’d prepared myself for discomfort, maybe even pain. I’d girded my pride and resolved to endure whatever was necessary to maintain dignity in this court that clearly anticipated my failure.
What I wasn’t prepared for was the wave of pleasure that washed through me, radiating outward from where his mouth met my skin, spreading like honey warmed in the sun.
My mind went blank, my awareness narrowing to the feel of him.
His hand at my nape. His lips against my throat.
The gentle pull as he took what he needed.
I tried not to squeak while tiny sparks of magic danced along my fingertips.
I curled my fingers around the edge of the table, gripping as my other hand found his sleeve, holding on as if I was going to float away if he didn’t ground me.
The room receded, the judgmental stares and whispers fading to nothing.
There was only this moment, this connection with the man I’d married.
A spark of golden light flared between my fingers and the edge of the table. My joy magic, like a mischievous child, had slipped free. I hoped no one else noticed, but I knew Kieran did. The corner of his mouth twitched.
The intimacy between us struck me like lightning.
This wasn’t just feeding. This wasn’t just a formal requirement.
This was something else entirely, something that made my magic stir beneath my skin, tiny golden sparks dancing along my fingertips, little motes of light that I prayed no one would notice.
Through half-lidded eyes, I caught a glimpse of Lady Cordelia hovering near the ceiling, watching with curiosity, her translucent form shimmering in the morning light streaming through the high windows. She drifted closer, and I sensed she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.
This is most unusual. Her voice ghosted through my mind, though her lips didn’t move. I haven’t seen a king take from the neck in public since… Well, ever. Not with a willing bride.
If I could form words, I would’ve told her to be quiet. As it was, I could barely remember how to breathe.
When Kieran finally leaned away, his eyes had darkened to midnight, and his pupils were blown wide, the blue a thin ring around bottomless black.
A single drop of blood—my blood—clung to his lower lip.
His tongue darted out to catch it, and something hot and forbidden twisted in my belly at the sight.
“Thank you,” he said, his words hushed. The heat in his gaze made my skin boil from the inside out, as if my blood had caught fire.
“You’re welcome.” I turned to my plate, hoping the flush spreading across my cheeks could be explained by the feeding rather than my body’s embarrassing response to a man I was supposed to keep at arm's length.
Breakfast. Focus on breakfast. I lifted my fork and stabbed my eggs, telling my heart to stop racing and my magic to settle back into its usual quiet hum.
The silence lasted another beat, then two, the moment stretching until I thought I might scream just to break it.
“Well,” an elderly vampire woman with a jeweled collar said. “It appears our new queen has adapted quickly to our ways.”
“Indeed,” said the vampire beside her, his white mustache quivering with what might’ve been amusement. “Most commendable.”
Around us, conversation gradually resumed, though I felt the weight of their eyes still watching.
“The winter solstice preparations must begin soon,” Uncle Prentiss said, cutting his gaze toward me before returning it to Kieran. “Will we be following traditional protocols this year, Your Majesty?”
“With some modifications.” Kieran’s voice had returned to its usual, tight control, though I thought I heard a touch of roughness around the edges. “We may want to consider inviting representatives from the witches’ coven this year, given our new alliance.”
Madeline’s lips pressed together as if she’d tasted something sour. “How…modern of you.”
Beneath the table, Kieran’s hand found mine, and he gave it a squeeze before withdrawing. The touch was so unexpected I nearly dropped my fork again. Warmth bloomed in my chest at the simple gesture of solidarity.
I chewed my food. Swallowed. Tried to appear as if I belonged at this table with its elaborate etiquette and unspoken rules.
Other than the occasional dribble of blood from someone’s mouth, vampire breakfast rituals were bizarrely formal.
Goblets were always held with the left hand, and napkins were precisely refolded and laid on laps after each use.
“Fresh from the north counties,” Prentiss said, licking his lips. “You can taste the highland clover in the undertones.”
Commenting on the vintage was apparently considered gauche, judging by the scandalized looks sent his way.
At least I wasn’t the only one struggling with protocol here.
“Do you have similar dining customs among witches, Your Highness?” asked a middle-aged vampire in a dark brown suit seated across from me. His tone suggested genuine curiosity rather than condescension.
“Not quite so regimented.” I carefully wiped the corner of my mouth, folded my napkin, and returned it to my lap. “Though my grandmother has strict rules about proper spell discussion at the table. Magic talk is forbidden until after the main course.”
“Sensible.” He nodded. “Nothing ruins a good meal like debate over enchantment techniques. I’m Lord Rathley, by the way. Your king’s newest advisor.” The man, only a few years older than myself, bowed his head. “Should you need anything for your personal use, my office is at your disposal.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate that.”
“If she needs anything, she can ask me.” An undercurrent of steel rang out in Kieran’s tone. “I’m her husband, after all.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” A flicker of amusement crossed the lord’s face. “I merely offered my services as is proper.”
Kieran’s jaw tightened. “Your dedication to protocol is noted.”
Was he actually jealous over a simple offer of assistance? The thought was as ridiculous as it was intriguing. I tucked it away to examine later, when I wasn’t surrounded by vampires with observant eyes.
Lady Cordelia had drifted down to hover behind Kieran, making exaggerated swooning motions and fanning herself with her hand.
Possessive, isn’t he? she mouthed at me with a wink.
Since I seemed to be the only person in the room who could see and hear her, I focused on my plate rather than reply. This ghost was going to get me into trouble if I wasn’t careful.
The rest of breakfast passed in a blur of small talk.
The vampires deferred to Kieran without question, their respect for him clear despite the formal stiffness in their interactions.
No one ate actual food except me, which made me self-conscious about every bite until I realized that eating gave me an excuse to avoid conversation.
When we’d finished, Kieran stood, and the entire table rose with him. I stumbled to my feet quickly as well.
“I’ll be showing my queen the castle and grounds today,” he said. “She should become familiar with her new home.” He glanced my way. “The gardens first, I think. They’re lovely this time of year.”
Cordelia wiggled her eyebrows.
“I look forward to seeing all of Shadowborne over the next few days,” I said, glancing toward Lord Brightworthy.
The old vampire’s eyebrows rose. “It would be my pleasure to escort you personally, Your Highness. The history of the Nightblood line is most illuminating.”
“Thank you. That’s quite kind of you.”
“Any of us would be…delighted to accompany you almost anywhere,” Prentiss said, his gaze fixed on my neck where Kieran had bitten me.
Ah, so this was why they were all volunteering to escort me?
They hoped to take a bite.
“I will personally escort my wife on any tour.” Kieran’s expression darkened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. He extended his arm to me. “Shall we? The morning light shows the gardens to their best advantage.”
Rising, I placed my hand on his arm. “Lead on, husband.”
As we swept from the dining hall, every vampiric gaze bored into my back. Lady Cordelia floated after us, her skirts billowing as she hurried to keep pace.
Well done, she whispered, clapping her hands. That neck display was truly inspired. Scandalous as well. Absolutely scandalous. You’ve given them something to gossip about.
I kept my face carefully neutral, though a smile twitched at the corner of my mouth.
Despite the gloomy castle and Kieran’s stiff demeanor, I’d found one ally, even if she was dead and only I could see her.