Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CYRENE
If I could’ve crawled into a hole in the flagstones and stayed there until the next century, I would have. Unfortunately, the upper terrace was made of ancient marble, and the only thing that yielded under my shoes was my pride.
Cordelia had already pretended to faint twice.
“The scandal,” she breathed, fanning herself with a lace handkerchief that fluttered straight through her transparent wrist. “The passion. The way you leapt into his arms! Cyrene, I nearly perished from delight.”
“You’re already dead,” I pointed out.
She flipped her hand my way, ignoring my comment. “You must tell me everything again but with more detail. Was it planned, a symbolic gesture, or did your heart simply override that formidable intellect of yours?”
I pressed my hands to my flushed cheeks and groaned. “It was strategic. Entirely strategic.”
From his perch on the stone railing, Quandary released an indelicate snort that puffed thin curls of smoke from his nostrils. Strategic, my tail. You kissed him like you were trying to eat his soul.
I did not. I whirled on him. It was a diversion.
For whom? Because from where I sat, he looked very diverted.
As if she could understand our internal conversation, and maybe she could, Cordelia swooned again, drifting backward until her translucent skirts got tangled in the stone railing. “He caught you, didn’t he? With those strong arms. Oh, be still my unbeating heart.”
“I’m begging both of you to stop talking.” I paced the length of the terrace, my pulse still a skittish, traitorous thing. Every step sent my mind flickering back to the shock of his mouth against mine, the way the world had gone blindingly bright.
It was supposed to be a message to his advisors. That was all.
I’d seen the sneer curling Lady Aragorn’s lips, heard the snide whispers about witch glamour and fabricated affection on my way to breakfast, and something inside me snapped.
The rational part of me said that if the court doubted our marriage, I could fix that with a well-timed gesture, a kiss to silence the gossip.
But when Kieran caught me and he’d actually kissed me back, the entire plan had flown straight out of my head.
His lips were warm and steady and unbearably familiar. He’d tasted like winter wine, the same but not the same as the man I’d once known. For a moment, I’d forgotten where we were, forgotten who was watching. I’d even forgotten the treaty.
I’d only remembered him.
Now, with the sun slinking down below the horizon, the memory burned like a brand. I could still feel the ghost of his mouth on mine.
Quandary hopped across the railing beside me, his tail twitching. You’re still blushing. Does your magic always do that after you kiss someone, or was that a special effects feature?
I’m not blushing.
You’re the color of a ripe apple.
Go find something flammable and sit on it.
He grinned, his tiny fangs flashing. He kissed you back.
I threw my hands in the air. “Fine, yes. He kissed me back. And yes, there was a minor magical reaction, but it was circumstantial. Completely explainable. Joy magic tends to amplify under emotional—”
“Joy,” Cordelia cooed, making me realize I was now speaking aloud. “You certainly look joyful.”
“Cordelia.”
I’ll be back, Quandary said, soaring inside on his tiny wings.
I almost called him back. He was going to get into trouble. I just knew it.
Cordelia distracted me by floating nearer, her hands clasped under her chin, the very picture of ghostly bliss. “You do realize you’ve altered the course of vampire history? They’ll write songs about you. The witch queen who bewitched her vampire husband with one scandalous kiss.”
“Oh, fates preserve me,” I grumbled. “It was not scandalous.”
The petals still floating through the air begged to differ.
I sighed and leaned against the cool stone railing.
Beyond the castle walls, the sunset painted the sky in pinks and golds, colors that had no business in this kingdom of eternal twilight.
“You know what the worst part is?” I said more to myself than to Cordelia. “For a moment there, when he kissed me back, I forgot everything. The treaty, the politics, the fact that he abandoned me without a word. I just remembered us.”
Cordelia drifted closer, her form shimmering in the fading light. “Perhaps that’s not the worst part at all, darling. Perhaps that’s the part worth fighting for.”
I traced my lower lip with my fingertip, still feeling the phantom pressure of his mouth. “How do you fight for someone who’s spent six years building walls specifically designed to keep you out?”
“The same way you cast your most powerful spells. One bit of magic at a time.”
When it was time to get ready for dinner, Cordelia insisted I wear the deep green gown, gesturing to one hanging in the enormous closet. I’d brought clothing with me, but nothing like this.
“For symbolism,” she said. “It looks wonderful with your eyes, and victory always looks better in emerald.”
Quandary, who’d returned but hadn’t told me where he’d gone despite me asking, perched on the vanity, supervising. Do you think vampires brood horizontally or upright?
“I don’t care how he broods,” I said, fastening my earrings. “He can do it upside down like a bat, for all I care.”
Uh-huh.
“I don’t care.”
Sure.
“I don’t.”
Cordelia hummed. “Then why are you redoing your lipstick?”
I glared at my reflection. “Because I smudged it arguing with you.”
They both smirked, which was impressive, considering one of them didn’t technically have lips.
Despite me telling them both to remain in the room, I left for dinner with them following me.
Word of the incident appeared to have quickly spread through the castle.
As I made my way down to the first level for dinner, servants peeked from doorways and ducked into corners, their whispers trailing behind me.
The air practically hummed with energy. My joy magic responded instinctively, slipping through the corridors in a slow, golden glow.
Sconces burned brighter. The scent of blooming flowers drifted through rooms that hadn’t seen sunlight in centuries.
Even the portraits on the walls seemed to be watching me with new interest.
When I passed the grand staircase, a maid actually curtsied and whispered, “Long live the queen.”
That nearly made me trip.
By the time I reached the ground floor, I was half mortified, half exhilarated, and entirely out of coherent thought.
I slipped into a parlor and dropped into one of the cushioned chairs, pressing a hand to my heart.
Cordelia sat beside me.
“They’re all talking about it, aren’t they?” I croaked.
“Of course they are. You made them feel something. Vampires don’t do that often. I imagine it’s all the rage now.”
“Wonderful. I’ll have to start charging for lessons.”
Quandary fluttered into the room and skidded across a table, nearly toppling a statue before coming to a halt. Told you he liked you.
I don’t believe he does.
He does too. You should’ve seen his face after. He was blushing!
“Enough.” I jabbed a finger toward him. “The kiss was political theater. He knows it, I know it. Nothing more.”
The words felt brittle, fragile enough that even saying them out loud made me flinch. Because the truth was, when he’d kissed me back, there had been nothing political about it.
My fingers curled in my lap. I could still feel the way his hand had steadied me, the sharp intake of his breath against my cheek, and the impossible warmth of his body.
Kieran was supposed to be all cold edges and self-control, a man carved out of midnight.
Yet for those few seconds, he’d been alive.
And I’d felt it.
Fates, what had I done?
My magic buzzed under my skin like honeybees drunk on summer blossoms. It had never responded to anyone the way it did to him. Not that I’d tell him that.
The truth was, Kieran could act as cold and distant as he wanted, but our magic remembered what our hearts were trying to forget. His shadows had curled toward my light like they were starving for it. Six years of separation, and still, our magic recognized its other half.
That was what terrified me most. Not his crown or his court or even his stubborn, infuriating pride, but the way my entire being lit up when he was near.
Rising, I made myself stride to the formal dining room. My next performance awaited me.
I hadn’t realized how vast the dining room was until I had to walk the entire length of it alone.
The vaulted ceiling soared high above, inlaid with dark glass that reflected every flicker of light.
A massive table stretched from one end to the other, lined with nobles, advisors, and Kieran’s various relatives.
Their conversations stilled as I entered, and dozens of crimson eyes turned toward me.
It was like walking into a nest of very polite, very judgmental bats.
I pasted on a smile, the kind that said I dare you to start something.
“Your Majesty,” Lord Rathley called out, his voice as scratchy as sand. “How…spirited you looked this evening.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I felt the need to brighten the place a bit.”
A murmur rippled through the table, amusement tinged with shock. I could almost feel Cordelia’s invisible applause behind me.
I took my seat at the end of the table, finding Kieran’s seat conspicuously empty. A hollow ache settled under my ribs. I told myself it was relief.
It was ridiculous to miss someone, the person who’d left me without a word six years ago. He’d married me for politics and power.
Yet I missed him with an intensity that made my chest ache. Not the man who ruled this court, but the man I’d glimpsed again this afternoon when his control fractured. The man whose kiss had tasted like coming home after being lost for years.
Kieran’s uncle Prentiss cleared his throat. “The king sends his regrets?”
“He’s attending to state matters,” I said. “As am I.”