Princess Myrinne noticed Rose listening and quickly switched to English. “I was speaking to her warrior, not the Eklektos herself,” she whispered to Ligeia. “Tell them that. And make sure they’re all watching when I correct the mistake.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Ligeia said, bowing, before rushing away.
“Mistake?” Rose said sassily. “I wouldn’t have thought you made those.”
Princess Myrinne smiled. “Good. That’s the impression I like to make.”
Kara glanced around the room—noticing all of the vampires who were attempting to watch them inconspicuously. But Kara was quite skilled at noticing the inconspicuous things—like the way they’d turned to face them, the way their eyes shifted, the way their conversations had tapered off so suddenly. Kara moved closer to the princess. “If you’re waiting for an audience, I think you’ve got one.”
Princess Myrinne nodded. “Please, forgive me, my Eklektos. I should’ve greeted you first,” she said, as she bowed. It wasn’t the bow she’d done before—the one where she’d placed her hand over her chest—but it was just as formal.
Kara glanced down at that hand, frowning, as she realized it was covered with a white, silk glove. She couldn’t help but wonder: Was the glove part of the outfit? Or was the princess trying to hide that symbol on the back of her hand?
The same symbol that they’d seen on Ligeia’s shield. The one that Rose had studied so intently, her azure-blue eyes flashing with some sort of recognition.
There was something significant about that symbol, and Kara planned to figure out what it was. And if Princess Myrinne was hiding it from her people, for some reason—well…it wouldn’t be the first time Kara had blackmailed royalty.
Everyone quickly averted their gaze, as the princess returned to her feet.
“I, umm,” Rose said, wincing, “actually preferred it when you didn’t?”
Princess Myrinne stepped closer to her, wrapping her silk-covered hand around Rose’s arm and pulling closer. “My Eklektos,” she whispered, “may I give you some advice?” When Rose nodded, the princess’s smile faded. “Get over it.”
Rose laughed nervously. “Oh. I was afraid you were going to be harsh.”
Her smile returned. “I mean that with the utmost respect, of course.”
“Oh, yeah,” Rose said sarcastically. “It definitely came across that way.”
Princess Myrinne released Rose’s arm, but she remained just as close, her body turned just enough that no one could read her lips. No one, except Kara, of course—who she addressed, now. “It is very important that neither of you behave the way you…usually behave,” she told them. “We don’t want to raise suspicion.”
“You mean I’m not allowed to be an awkward mess tonight?” Rose said.
Princess Myrinne scowled at her. “Preferably not a sassy one either.”
Rose scoffed at that, “Now, you’re really asking too much.”
Kara crossed her arms. “Why is it suspicious for us to be ourselves?”
The princess sighed, “We’ve been waiting for a long time. We’ve spent a lot of time wondering what the Eklektos would be like, and the royalty, especially, have built up some pretty lofty expectations.” She shrugged her slender shoulders. “And most people would rather assume she’s not who she says she is, than admit they were wrong in their assumptions about her. Surely, you’ve seen that before?”
“Assimilation versus adaptation,” Rose muttered under her breath.
Kara tilted her head to the side, blue strands falling over her shoulder, as she studied the princess. “You’re saying they think she’s an imposter?” she asked. Her eyes narrowed. “That’s sort of a common thing among your people, isn’t it?”
The princess glanced at her, confusion twisting at her brows. “What?”
“Nothing,” Kara said with a sly smile. “Just testing your reactions.”
Princess Myrinne lifted her chin, irritation flashing in her pale blue eyes. “No wonder the telepath liked you,” she stated. “You’re manipulative, like her.”
Kara’s smile faded. “What do you know of Alana?”
Rose spun toward the princess, a flash of red glowing in her eyes. “Yeah, you’re not going to do that,” she growled. Aside from the power tingling over her skin, threatening to burst outward, the only indication that her eyes had changed was the way Princess Myrinne suddenly straightened, her eyes widening in alarm. “You want to push each other’s buttons? Fine. But you’re not going to hurt her.”
Kara reached out and slipped her fingers into Rose’s hand. She did it so casually that no one noticed. “It’s okay, love. She didn’t hurt me,” she whispered.
Rose glanced at Kara, and the red light immediately faded from her eyes, leaving behind their normal azure-blue hue. “I feel what you feel,” she whispered.
Kara nodded reluctantly, pain flashing in her light blue eyes. “I know.”
Ligeia appeared beside the princess, suddenly. “Is everything all right?”
Princess Myrinne actually jumped, startled by Ligeia’s swift movement. She turned toward her warrior, frowning. “Everything’s fine, Ligeia,” she assured her. Then, she leaned closer and whispered, “Did anyone see her eyes change?”
“No, Your Highness,” Ligeia said, shaking her head. “It was just me.”
“That’s unfortunate,” Princess Myrinne muttered, “because that was the Eklektos they were wanting to see.” She turned back toward Rose and Kara. “I’m sorry, my Eklektos,” she said, bowing. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Rose blinked in surprise. “No. I’m sorry,” she muttered, “for the…eyes.”
Princess Myrinne smiled a little at that. “Don’t be. It was awe-inspiring.”
“What?” Rose said, her brows furrowing. But the princess didn’t answer.
“All right,” Kara said, “if you don’t want us to arouse suspicion, perhaps you should tell us what this meeting is about. Give us an idea of what to expect.”
Princess Myrinne nodded. “Part of the reason we’re meeting is to discuss what to do about the war. You’re not needed for that. Someone might try to argue that we should stay hidden, but ultimately, they’ll agree to help. We’ve known this was coming for thousands of years. We agreed long ago that we’d join the war.”
“You’ve known about this war for thousands of years?” Rose sputtered.
Princess Myrinne ignored the question. “The other reason we’re meeting is for the Eklektos.” She flashed a taunting smile at Rose. “There will be bowing.”
“No,” Rose whimpered—earning a laugh from both Kara and Zosime.
Even Princess Myrinne smiled. Slightly. “Just be assertive. But don’t sass anyone,” she advised. “And it’s probably best if your warrior doesn’t speak at all.”
Kara chuckled at that. “That would be best, hmm?”
Princess Myrinne shot a reproachful look her way. “Now, I should go,” she told them. “Before everyone’s too drunk on blood-wine to make a decision.”
Rose and Kara both frowned at that, as the princess and Ligeia turned to leave. “Blood-wine?” Rose repeated, glancing curiously at the glasses on the table.
Kara looked genuinely offended, for once. “No one offered me any.”
Zosime laughed. “Don’t worry. You’ll both taste some soon.”
Kara glanced at her, lifting an eyebrow. “Will we, now?”
Rose frowned. “We can’t…both taste it,” she argued. “I don’t drink.”
Zosime gave her a lazy, confident shrug. “I’ve already foreseen it.”
“Yeah, well, stop…foreseeing stuff,” Rose grumbled. “It’s creepy.”
The meeting started, unsurprisingly, with bowing. The man, who sat next to the princess, spoke first. “Welcome, my Eklektos. We’re honored to have you.”
Rose fidgeted nervously. “Yeah. Same,” she blurted out. She frowned. “I mean, not the same, obviously, because I’m not welcoming you.
Or having you.”
The princess cleared her throat, interrupting Rose’s disastrous rambling.
Kara pursed her lips, trying her best to hold back laughter. She stepped closer to Rose. With an amused smile, she whispered in her ear, “Say thank you.”
“Oh, yeah,” Rose muttered, blushing. “Thank you. That’s what I meant.”
Either Rose’s anxiety was making her imagination run wild, or Princess Myrinne had suddenly started drinking her wine much faster than before. Before her next white-haired clone finished talking, she’d already finished another glass.
“And this is your warrior?” another one asked. “Kara Unnarsdóttir?”
Rose shrugged. “I mean, yeah, that’s what she calls herself. She swore an oath and stuff,” she rambled nervously, “and she has a lot of cool weapons. She’s pretty impressive when she’s fighting. She’s sexy. Skilled! I meant to say skilled!”
The princess reached across the table and grabbed the entire wine bottle.
Kara, on the other hand, was staring at Rose, a wide, open-mouthed grin on her face. When she finally regained her composure, she turned toward the rest of the vampires, who were all also staring, slack-jawed, at a very flustered Rose. “I am her warrior, yes,” she clarified, “and she’s right. I am sexy when I’m fighting.”
Rose’s face turned an even darker shade of pink. “I am so bad at this.”
“Not arguing with you there,” the princess said—behind a glass of wine.
The vampire beside her, the one who had spoken first, cleared his throat. And apparently, that wasn’t enough—because he cleared his throat a second time. “My Eklektos,” he said with a friendly smile, “perhaps it would make you more comfortable if we introduced ourselves. I’m Isodore, Princess Myrinne’s cousin.”
Rose frowned curiously. “Cousin on mom’s side or dad’s side?” she said. When the princess glared at her, she added, “Just curious about the hair, mainly.”
Isodore touched his long, white-blonde hair, examining it with a frown. “I am the son of the king’s brother. Which makes me third in line to the throne.”
Zosime stepped closer and whispered, “He’s Colina’s older brother.”
Rose frowned, but before she could ask about that whole disgraced-side-of-the-family comment that Ligeia had made, Princess Myrinne snorted in a very unlike-herself way. Rose glanced up toward the table, both eyebrows lifting.
“You’re not third in line to the throne,” Princess Myrinne said, drinking another glassful of wine. Ligeia reached for the bottle, trying to stop her, before she drank any more, but the princess slapped her hand. “You’re not even the son of the king’s brother. Because there hasn’t been a king in ten thousand years. Nor has there been a brother of a king. You think you’re important, but you’re not.”
“Oh, dear,” Zosime sighed. “I warned Ligeia not to let her get drunk.”
Kara snorted, “You know, I think I might actually like this side of her.”
“Get ahold of yourself, Your Highness,” said the woman next to her.
“What?” the princess said, pouring another glass. “You’re all thinking it.”
Isodore glared murderously at her, before returning his attention to Rose. “I have a question, my Eklektos,” he said between clenched teeth, “about your judgement.” Before Rose could respond to that ominous opening, he continued, “Why Kara Unnarsdóttir? She’s known for ruthlessly killing in the name of both the telepathic vampire, Alana, and the vampire that they call ‘the Son of Lilith.’”
Rose frowned at that last one. “I have no idea who that is.”
“It’s something they used to call Aaron,” Kara told Rose, “according to my spies.” Her brows furrowed. “But that was a difficult piece of information to find. Aaron nearly wiped away every trace of it. I’d love to know how they know.”
“The point is,” Isodore added, “she has a reputation for being quite evil.”
“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Rose said, “don’t you think?”
Isodore rested his hands on the table, folding them together. “How so?”
Rose narrowed her eyes at his patronizing attitude. “Well, first of all, she didn’t have much of a choice with Alana, did she? Can you resist a telepath?”
Princess Myrinne chuckled behind her glass, “And there’s the sass.”
Isodore interrupted before Rose could dive into the second-of-all of her argument. “If Alana was the one at fault, why did Kara keep going back to her?”
Because I needed her, Kara thought. It was a painful thought—one that pounded at her heart, irritating the wound left by her dream, left by every memory of Alana. She couldn’t tell the truth. It was too raw and painful. But she couldn’t listen to Rose defend her, either. Not when she knew she deserved any insult they threw her way. So, instead, she smiled and said, “Maybe I just liked the hate sex.”
Isodore’s eyes narrowed. His pale blue gaze shifted back toward Rose. “And yet, you think she doesn’t have any blood on her hands?” he said pointedly.
Rose opened her mouth to defend Kara—again—but Kara interrupted before she could. “Oh, I had plenty of blood on my hands,” Kara laughed, “and on my mouth. And on my neck.” She dragged one of her fingertips up the inside of her thigh and added, “And about right here.” She smiled, as they glared at her.
Rose glanced at Kara, sympathy twisting at her brows. The moment Kara met her gaze, Kara looked away, sighing at how easily Rose had seen through her.
“My Eklektos, surely, you realize,” he said, “your warrior’s out of line.”
“No,” Rose said, turning toward him. A red haze overtook her eyes, and power emanated from within her, shaking the cavern itself. “You’re out of line.”
Every royal vampire in the room shrank back, their eyes widening in fear.
Except for Princess Myrinne—who just laughed. “Told you she was the real thing,” she scoffed. She reached for another bottle, only to realize it was gone.
Isodore scrambled out of his seat, falling to his knees—much to Rose’s dismay. The other vampires followed suit. “Please, forgive me, my Eklektos,” he said breathlessly, “I never meant to offend you. I only wanted to understand you.”
The princess rolled her eyes. “Don’t play dumb, Isodore. You know that it’s against our laws to treat the Eklektos like that. If I were still High Priestess…”
“But you’re not,” Isodore snarled. He spun toward her, his pale blue eyes dark. “So, why don’t you focus on your real job? Let us focus on the Eklektos.”
Ligeia glared at him. “Would you like me to arrest him, Your Highness?”
“How will you do that,” Princess Myrinne complained, “when you have both of your hands behind your back—likely hiding bottles of my blood-wine?”
A blush crept up Ligeia’s neck. “I’m only trying to help, Your Highness.”
“No one warned me about the drama in this family,” Rose muttered.
Kara laughed, “They’re ancient, royal vampires. What did you expect?”
“Not this,” Rose said, as she watched them launch into another fight. It lasted for about ten minutes, at least, before triggering another fight between two different vampires. The princess seemed to be slowly sobering up, but it was too late. The meeting had already dissolved into chaos, and there was no stopping it.
On the bright side, Rose thought, at least the attention was no longer on her. As she watched Princess Myrinne fail, yet again, at calming her family down, Rose sensed something—the deep pang of sadness, a searing ache in her chest—and she knew, without even thinking, it was Kara’s sadness. It was Kara’s pain.
Rose reached out, her fingers grasping, until they curled around Kara’s.
Blinking out of her daze, Kara looked down at their joined hands, at the soft fingers that grasped her own. She breathed out, expelling the pained tension that had filled her lungs, and then, she lifted Rose’s hand to her mouth and kissed it. Gratitud
e and relief flooded her chest—where only tension had resided before.
Rose shivered, as the warmth of Kara’s mouth brushed over her skin, as her blood reacted to Kara’s kiss. She frowned worriedly at Kara, wondering what had made her so emotional. She glanced toward the front of the room, checking to see if anyone was watching her. She tugged at Kara’s hand, leading her outside.
Kara followed, gazing at their joined hands with this absent expression—one full of deep pain and warm yearning. Rose didn’t know what to make of it.
“Are you all right?” Rose whispered, as she closed the door behind them.
Once again, Kara lifted Rose’s hand to her mouth, kissing it. “I’m fine.”
Rose frowned, a little concerned by the unusually affectionate behavior. Kara didn’t often seem so soft and open, after all. “Something’s on your mind.”
Kara nodded slowly. “I was just thinking,” she said softly, “about Alana.”
Sympathy burned in Rose’s eyes. “Yeah. Do you want to talk about it?”
Kara lifted her lean, slender shoulders in a sad, exhausted shrug. “Well, I suppose I should,” she sighed. “It might be relevant to our situation, after all.”
“I don’t care about our situation,” Rose said gently. “I care about you.”
With a low, breathless laugh, Kara said, “Rose, you care about everything. It’s your thing.” Her smile deepened, and affection softened her intense, ice-blue eyes. She still held Rose’s hand in one of hers, but with her other hand, she traced the softness of Rose’s cheek. “But you are particularly good to me, aren’t you?”
Rose closed her eyes, unable to stop the instinctual urge inside of her—to lean into Kara’s touch, to turn her head and press her lips against Kara’s wrist. “What you call good,” Rose said with an amused smile, “is what I’d call normal.”
Kara couldn’t help but smile, as she watched the way Rose reacted to her touch. There was a sense of pride in seeing what she could already feel—that she and Rose had an irresistible connection, one that was stronger than anything she’d ever felt before. “Because you’re so good,” she said thoughtfully. “So unlike her.”
The Reign of Darkness Page 18