Chapter 11 #2
A young woman to my right leaned closer, the scent of crushed leaves wafting from her gown. “It must be so strange for you, Your Majesty. Adjusting to our customs. It’s much darker here, isn’t it?”
Her tone came out light, but her eyes shot daggers.
“I prefer to think of it as ambiance.”
“I hear your kind needs sunlight to thrive,” a man dressed in a starched suit said from across the table. “How inconvenient for a queen of our realm.”
Cordelia tutted in outrage. Smile, dear. Always smile. It unsettles predators.
I obeyed, though barely.
“Oh, I get by,” I said. “I’m quite resourceful. I generate my own light.”
That earned a few nervous laughs.
Madeline tittered behind her hand. “We certainly noticed. Quite a display in the courtyard. Tell me, did the rainbow signify anything? Was it a fertility omen, perhaps?”
My hand trembled on the table.
“Don’t take the bait,” Cordelia said from behind my left shoulder. “Float above it, like me.”
I forced another smile. “Only that joy is contagious. You should try it sometime.”
Her expression cooled.
Staff brought out goblets of blood for them and my meal: a roast, potatoes, and baby carrots. Once everyone started drinking, I stabbed a piece of meat with more force than necessary.
Cordelia fluttered up over the table, taking a seat on the chandelier, making it rock. “Keep it light, dear. Breezy, charming, unthreatening, like a summer breeze that could also kill if provoked.”
I did my best, but every time I spoke, someone fed me a barbed comment wrapped in velvet. They praised my vivaciousness, marveled that I had the nerve to bring sunlight into a vampire court, and wondered aloud whether the kiss had been consensual or strategic.
I lost count of how many times I imagined setting the tablecloth ablaze.
Quandary, perched in the rafters above, released a tiny growl. Say the word, and I’ll scorch their hair.
Tempting, but no. I needed to show control. Dignity. Poise.
But by the time dessert arrived, more blood for them and a blackberry tart shaped like bat wings for me, my cheeks ached from smiling, and my magic pulsed beneath my skin. The room felt tighter, colder, the laughter shriller.
Kieran’s chair remained empty. He should be here to remind me I wasn’t alone in this charade. He’d promised.
I did my best to remain still, pretending my heart wasn’t sinking by the minute.
When Madeline leaned forward, her tone syrup-sweet, I nearly broke my fork in half. “Truly, Your Majesty, I must commend you for causing such an uproar.”
Cordelia perked up. “See? You’ve made an impression.”
I breathed through my teeth. “I’m glad my presence has brightened everyone’s day.”
The noblewoman smiled, all fangs. “Oh, you’ve certainly brightened something.”
That did it. I stood abruptly, my chair scraping across the floor. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m finished.”
Gasps fluttered through the room like startled birds.
Cordelia leaped off the chandelier, swishing her translucent skirts. “Darling, don’t storm off, it ruins the exit—”
I was already moving, my pulse slamming in my throat and my magic sparking under my skin like fireworks.
The corridor outside the dining room was mercifully empty.
As I hurried toward the stairs, I pressed my hands to my temples, breathing hard. “Fates, I can’t do this.”
Quandary swooped over and landed on my shoulder. You lasted longer than I expected.
“That’s comforting.”
You could always set them on fire—accidentally.
“Tempting.” I puffed my way up the stairs to the level with our chambers.
Cordelia floated at my side as I stomped down the final hall. “You mustn’t let them see you flustered. Vampires feed on discomfort.”
“I noticed.”
I turned a corner and nearly collided with a wall of black velvet and muscle.
Kieran filled the corridor, looking tall and composed and too much like sin. His eyes, dark as old wine, swept over me, and something in his expression softened before it sharpened. “What happened?”
My voice came out thin. “Nothing.”
“Cyrene.”
I folded my arms across my chest, lifting my chin. “Your dinner guests are charming.”
“What did they say?”
“Oh, the usual. Hints about witchcraft, fertility omens, and whether my kiss bewitched their king. Light supper conversation. And you weren’t there like you said you would be to deflect some of it.”
“I’m sorry. I was called away and couldn’t—”
“I dealt with it alone.”
His jaw flexed, a muscle ticking at the corner. “Who made you uncomfortable?”
“Take your pick.”
He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing. “Tell me.”
The way he said it, all quiet and dangerous, made my skin quiver.
“You don’t have to—”
“I asked a question,” he said.
“None were kind or welcoming, but only one… Look, it doesn’t matter.” I waved a hand. “Your Aunt Madeline.”
His expression darkened, and the air suddenly felt heavier.
The shadows around him deepened, responding to the quiet rage I saw building behind his eyes.
“It does matter.” A muscle twitched in his jaw, and the temperature in the hallway dropped several degrees.
His voice came out soft, lethal. “No one insults you. Not in my castle. Not while I draw breath.”
The possessive fury in those words sent a shiver across my skin that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the realization that despite the crown and the court and the politics between us, some part of Kieran still considered me his to protect.
He eased past me. The shadows around his shoulders thickened, curling like ghosts. “Stay here.”
“Oh no.” I rushed after him. “If you’re going to storm in there like an avenging nightmare, I’m coming too.”
“Cyrene.” My name in his mouth was a dangerous thing, half command, half plea.
“I’m serious.”
He glanced back, his eyes blazing with something ancient and protective that made my breath catch. “So am I. Please. I will handle this and then I will return to you.”
His words lingered between us, heavy with promise.
My shoulders sagged. “Part of me wants to see you tell them off.”
“It would be better for everyone if you didn’t.”
“You want them to save face.”
“I want them to know that disrespecting my queen…” his voice deepened on the word, possessive and fierce, “is the one line they cannot cross with me.”
My heart flailed against my ribs, beating a rhythm that felt dangerously like hope.
“Someone needs to make sure you don’t decapitate anyone,” I said, trying to sound flippant despite the heat crawling up my neck.
“I won’t—tonight.” His mouth curved into a smile worthy of a demon, one of barely leashed power. But his expression softened. “Wait for me?”
Three simple words that felt like so much more.
“Alright.”
With a nod, he pivoted and strode away.
I watched him walk, shadows trailing in his wake like loyal subjects, with the memory of our kiss burning on my lips and the terrible, wonderful suspicion that maybe not everything between us was pretend after all.