Des snorts through a pained laugh. He leans into me as if he wants to be here, being held just like this. Like he doesn’t mind that a fae is touching him, offering what little comfort I can. “So I’m to get you a sexy red dress and take you on lots of carriage rides. Keep the list coming. I want to be the best husband you’ve ever had.”
“Well, you’re already winning the contest, since you’re the first and only. Hats off to you. Hmm.” I glance up at the gold-lined ceiling in faux contemplation, grasping at any tidbit that might distract him from the pain. “I’d like a talking pony.”
“A talking pony?”
“Yes. Everyone has a regular horse, but I’m the wife of a vampire prince, so mine should talk. And dance. A pony that doesn’t dance is for the common folk.”
He snorts again. “Is that so? My, this is an impressive list.”
“Red dress, carriage rides, a talking, dancing pony, and the softest, warmest bedsheets in the land. So soft, they feel like clouds on a summer’s day. So warm, I can fall asleep the instant I lay down in them.”
“What color?”
“Huh?”
“These cloud-like sheets. What color should they be? If your man is to lasso a cloud for you and have it woven into bedsheets, I’d like to know what color they should be.”
“Lavender,” I say before I can take it back. That was too honest, too much. But he called himself my man, and that feels… I dunno, like he doesn’t mind me near him. The joke takes a serious turn, so I backpedal as quick as I can. “Any old color. I don’t much care, so long as there’s no blood on them. Guess that means you’ll have to stop bleeding eventually. Sorry if that foils your plans.”
Des’ good arm meanders through the air until it lands on my elbow. He gives me a feeble squeeze. “My wife shall sleep on lavender clouds, then. I told you last night, I am your servant.”
I can’t reach for shtick anymore, so I hold him through the sweetness of the moment he’s conjured up to give me something lovely to hold onto in this grim place. Our faked wedding vows are too beautiful to be true, but for the moment, we pretend they are.
13
Blood on the Rug
Alexavier
“What a fantastic evening it is for a visit,” I say loud enough to fill the foyer. “I should hope the greeting from the ruffians we encountered on our way here isn’t the cheeriest welcome we’ll be extended in Drexdenberg.”
A few servants skitter toward us but back away at our blood-stained clothing, and well, us. We could come in here polished and pressed, and they’d still treat me like a leper. When I come in my pure white fae clothes, they scoff that the sight hurts their eyes, and immediately make me change.
The servants call for Des’ parents and shriek for a healer when they take in the scope of the damage as Des leans heavily on Lily and me.
Princess the First Melinda is a royal pain to anyone who gets within earshot of her. She’s spoiled and has no desire to be useful or kind. I shouldn’t be affronted when she shouts, “Destino, you’re bleeding on the rug!” but the acid in her high-pitched voice sets my teeth on edge.
I narrow my eyes at Melinda. “Why yes, Mama Karamathian, your son will live. Your concern is touching.”
I hand Des off to the healer when the portly woman rounds the corner, red-faced and eyebrows knitted with genuine concern. I trust Des with her, but Lily’s eyes are panicked to let him out of her sight.
She’s always been a softy beneath the toughness. When our cat took ill back when I was a boy, she carried the thing everywhere, insisting the “poor darling” shouldn’t be expected to walk in her last days.
“It’s alright,” I assure Lily. “That’s Healer Clare. She’s been with the royal family since Des was a boy. She’ll help him.”
“Shouldn’t I go with him? He can’t exactly defend himself.”
Melinda Karamathian’s input is never invited, but somehow always finds a way to show up. “Defend himself against what? This is his home. You should worry more about yourself, your own defenses on your road back to Faveda, which I assume you’ll be taking any minute now.”
The hint that Lily is not welcome here comes sooner than I was hoping, but to her credit, Lily doesn’t shrink. Brazen beauty that she is, Lily keeps her chin level to the ground.
Melinda’s eyes narrow when her gaze lands on me. “Prince Alexavier, I see you’ve brought my son home damaged again. Is there no end to your recklessness?”
As if on cue, the front doors burst open and Salem stomps in with heavy boots, dragging two bound prisoners across Melinda’s gold and green rug. Heck of a welcome mat it is, since she’s sure to make anyone feel unwelcome who steps on it.
“Prince Salem, I’ll send the bill for a new rug to your father if you track… Is that blood? Are they injured?” She screams at the scandal, her black bun wobbling atop her head as she shakes it. “You’re so violent now that you’re battling my kin and dragging them into my home? Have you no decency?”
Salem snarls at her but doesn’t go mute, as he usually does around Des’ parents. “Your people attacked the carriage tha carried your son. One of them sank an arrow into the crowned Prince of Drexdenberg. I trust tha’s still viewed as treason?”
Melinda’s thin lips splutter as she touches her forehead. “Well, yes, but did they even know it was Destino? They were probably aiming at you or Prince Alexavier.”
Salem drops their ankles, leaving them bound in their fruitless struggle in the middle of the foyer, and straightens, his height towering over her. “I hope you’re not telling me it’s grand for vampires to attack the crown of Jacoba and Faveda.”
Melinda pales. “Of course not. They should be tried for their crimes, of course.”
“Good. Cleaning up your garbage shouldn’t be my job, Melinda. Stop worrying about your fancy rug and care tha your son’s been shot.”
I can’t hide my smirk that Salem doesn’t bother with her title. They’ve got some quarrel between them that always underrides their exchanges, but I’ve never dug into it. Honestly, I don’t want to know. Every now and then, I catch Melinda staring at Salem’s ass, so yeah, I don’t want to know.
Harris strolls out from the direction of the billiard room, stopping short at the display of bound bodies in the middle of the foyer. Of course that’s the thing that traps his attention, rather than the sight of his own son bleeding and wheezing. “What’s the meaning of this?”
Salem doesn’t answer, but turns around to bring in more prisoners while I explain the hullabaloo to Des’ clueless father just as Healer Clare escorts Des out of sight.
Lily doesn’t touch me, but she stays two inches from my side no matter how I shift my weight. She’s scared to be here, but she doesn’t want to show it. My arm itches to drape itself around her, but that won’t do our cause any favors. Harris and Melinda are squawking and fanning themselves like the useless aristocracy they are as Salem keeps bringing in more vampires to decorate their prison. He doesn’t leave them all in the foyer, but drags them through the first floor, dropping them one-by-one in several of the rooms so the habitants will have to play hide-and-seek before the degenerates find a way to wriggle free. I counted fifteen men, plus one dead guy, but the way Salem’s boots pound the wood floors makes it seem like dozens as he streaks blood all over the place.
There are many reasons I love Salem, but this is a big one. He’s not afraid of anyone (except maybe the pretty girl beside me), and is who he needs to be to get the job done. Much of the fear my people have of Jacoba stems from Salem’s hard nature and inability to bother with diplomacy. In a world of thinly-veiled threats and mind games, Salem’s brutal nature is a breath of fresh air.
“We’ll be staying for dinner,” I tell Melinda and Harris. “I trust King Ronin has room at his lonely table for us?”
Melinda speaks through gritted teeth, her red lipstick liberally applied. “King Ronin loathes the both of you. You’re children with crowns, and nothing more.” Her gaze slides
to Lily. “Whatever misfortune roped you into keeping the company of Prince Alexavier, I suggest you run from the chaos he brings. He’s been here all of ten minutes, and my home is streaked with blood.”
“The blood of the men who attacked your son,” Lily says, raising her chin beside me.
I cringe inwardly that she’s spoken against Melinda in any way. Des’ parents already hate me, but she had a chance. A slim one, granted, but a chance to get Melinda and Harris to like her before we drop the truth of our actions on their heads. I can see by the steely hatred in Melinda’s eyes that Lily is now on her list of people who shouldn’t exist in her presence.
Beneath the healthy fear for Lily’s safety, I’m a little proud of my girl for not shrinking under pressure. Des is going to need people to stand by him, people strong enough to look his mother in the eye and call her out on her expertly-covered flaws.
“You can show yourselves out,” Harris rules.
Luckily, he holds not much more authority than I do. “Actually, we require an audience with King Ronin. And a meal. I assume you feed your out-of-town guests and wouldn’t leave them to starve. Imagine the diplomacy nightmare if it got back that Prince Alexavier of Faveda was treated rudely after being attacked on your soil. I daresay Father might raise his voice.”
Harris clenches his fists at mention of a fae king holding more swagger than he does. “Of course. We’re honored to have princes from the two neighboring territories here. What a fortunate day it is for us. Though, as King Ronin barely has the stomach for looking at foreigners who come uninvited, I’m sure he’ll be too busy to dine.”
I appreciate the charade, if only because Harris turns red every time he’s forced to pretend he’s capable of civility. A bland smile crosses my features as Salem wipes his bloody hands off on Melinda’s emerald curtains. “Very good. If King Ronin is not at dinner tonight, then we’ll stay for as many days as it takes. I might just move into the palace while I wait. You’ve done something different with your décor. These streaks of red all over are just stunning.”
Harris rests his fists on his hips, and for the life of me, I cannot picture him ruling a country. Whenever he gears up to boss me, there’s a childish “nuh-uh!” that controls the petulant angle of his chin. Though Harris is Des’ father, Des is twice the man this weasel will ever be. They share the same sharp jawline passed down from King Ronin, but the similarities end there.
Harris huffs at me. “What are you going on about? If you’ve important matters to discuss, you can speak with me.”
I flip my hand in his direction. “Nothing that concerns you. It’s only about your son’s future.” Then, because I can’t help myself, I add, “I think our little Destino’s finally found himself a bride. She’s going to meet the king tonight to ask for his blessing.”
Melinda shrieks in what I’m sure is supposed to be joy, but comes out like a threat. She’s been trying to set her son up with date after date, but none were options Des considered. They were all mutely agreeable women. Pleasant enough, but would do nothing to remedy King Ronin’s biggest complaint about Des, that he’s not bold enough for the throne. “How marvelous,” she finally says, though she looks as if the words are choking her.
That Des went out and found himself a woman without Melinda to orchestrate the match? Her eyes are bugged and her thin lips pressed in a taut line of disapproval. After all, if King Ronin approves of Des’ wife, it might make Des more favorable in his eyes, which would make him lean toward handing the throne down to Des instead of Harris, which is her worst fear.
Of course, I know that’s never going to happen. King Ronin will hate Lily and all that she represents, and he has no intention of ever giving up the crown. But for the few precious hours between now and dinnertime, it will give me untold amounts of joy to know dear old Melinda and Harris are wringing their hands and fretting that all will be lost to them, as if they ever had a chance at the throne. King Ronin is many things, but he’s not stupid enough to give that much authority to someone who would destroy all he’s built over the last century.
I fight the urge to wrap my arm around Lily, and instead jerk my chin in the direction of the grand staircase before us that splits off in two directions. “We’ll be with Des, if anyone needs us. Until dinner,” I say like a threat, making sure Lily is by my side as we trot up the steps with Salem. Her legs look rubbery and she trips twice on the way up, but Salem rights her before she can commit to falling. He retracts his hands immediately, as if touching someone so desirable is an act to be afraid of.
When we reach the top of the steps, Lily glues her hand to mine. The frustration and anger that always bubbles up in me whenever I have to deal with Des’ parents instantly dissipates at her touch, like she’s let the air out of my balloon, deflating all my reasons to rage against the world and instead filling me with cotton candy and memories of our kisses.
And just like that, I feel it. Something missing in my soul slides into place, making it clear to me that Des’ wife holds my heart in her dainty hand.
14
Healing Touch
Destino
“I’m really fine. Vampires heal far faster than fae.” I protest Lily’s fawning because the guys are watching, but secretly I love it. Her fingers fluttering over my bandage and the concern knitting her brows together makes me feel like someone actually cares about me. Clare keeps a close eye on me, but after I’m bandaged, showered and in fresh clothes, she finally rules it’s safe for me to… sit at the dinner table. I mean, honestly. I’m not a withering daisy.
Clare holds onto my arm to help me out of my chair that rests in the corner of her healing room. “Yes, but you were shot. Plus, this broken arm of yours. At least you had it set. I have half a mind to demand to know who you went to behind my back. I’m perfectly capable of setting and wrapping a broken bone.”
“I recall.” I smile at my healer. She was frozen at age twenty-two, and looks more like my little sister now, though she’s in her fifties. So many jump to stop their aging too young, which is nice for aesthetics, but doesn’t do well to command a room. Great-grandfather set down an edict that none of his offspring would have the option of being frozen until they turned thirty. Granted, I didn’t wait more than a day after my thirtieth birthday to feed on the blood of a young colt, but his advice was solid. Looking more mature gives me an edge of authority that Clare has to fight for, looking as youthful as she does. Though, she does have a few inches on me in the height department, so that helps. Whatever she says, I obey, because her fretting means she cares.
“I’m sorry,” Lily offers to Clare. “I set it because it looked pretty bad, but maybe I should’ve sent him home to you instead. He was far from the palace, and I didn’t want infection to set in.”
Clare pauses once I get on my feet and looks Lily in the eye for the first time. “You helped Destino? You set my boy’s arm? But you’re fae. You think we’re beneath you. You think we’re nothing more than parasites.”
Lily squares her shoulders but keeps her volume pleasant. “I’ve seen lowlifes, thieves and parasites come from all three of the territories. Vampires have the market on a lot of things, but you can’t claim something that belongs to all of us.”
Clare stops all movement to mull over Lily’s words. Relief floods me when Clare laughs at the almost-chastisement that’s actually a peace offering. I don’t know how Lily does it. I don’t know why it matters that Clare gets along with Lily. I certainly don’t care that Melinda doesn’t. But seeing the two laugh together gives me hope that maybe this will work. Maybe marrying me won’t be the worst thing that happens to this girl who spreads sunlight into the darkened crevices of the world.
Clare keeps her eyes from Lily, as most of our species does when confronted with an oddity from the outside, but her words are congenial, which is a good first step. “Prince Alexavier found himself a goldmine with you. Good for him.”
Lily opens her mouth but then closes it, no doubt unsure when the big
reveal is supposed to happen. I have no idea, but I’m guessing it can wait until she’s acclimated and has her bearings about her.
I catch her eye. “Go get dressed for supper. I’ll meet you down there.”
Lily looks down at her other set of clothes she owns, which is identical to the first. At least the set she’s currently wearing isn’t stained with my blood. “I’m so confused. I thought I put on clothing after I showered a couple hours ago. Have I been stark raving naked this entire time?” She gasps and covers her elbow, then mocks my accent by doing a poor imitation of it. “Don’t look! It’s not proper for you to see me so exposed.”
I bark out a laugh. “I think you’re covering the wrong parts, blue eyes.”
“I know how you vampires think. I won’t turn a blind eye while you lust over my elbow!”
We devolve into giggles when I reach out to pinch the forbidden spot, faking mortal woundedness when she mimes slapping me across the face.
Clare gapes at the two of us, her face debating between amused and horrified. “You mustn’t joke like that, lusting after Prince Alexavier’s girlfriend. You’ll start a war, you will.” Then her eyes twinkle with mischief. “Though, if you really wanted to put that thing to good use,” she points at Lily’s elbow, “put your weight into it and pop him straight in the sternum.” She acts out the violence, and I give her a convincing “oof!”
“Traitor!” I bellow, tossing Clare a wounded expression. “I bring home a woman, and the two of you team up the very first day to conspire against me.” Lily and I share a smirk. I like being around her. Though she’s seven years younger than I am, I can’t help but see a kindred spirit of sorts—someone who can conjure up a smile and a joke no matter how dire the day. “Seriously, though. There should be clothes laid out for you on my bed down the hall. We’ll wait.”
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