Those infernal fairies had paid dearly in ripped-off wings for barring her from entering Xandra and making her wait sixteen years to torture Catia and Stefan’s daughter.
But even though she couldn’t cross the border herself, it was delicious to know that each night bloodthirsty vampires terrorized Stefan and Catia’s precious kingdom and the throne that was rightfully hers. And in less than three years, her minions would be terrorizing something even more precious to the odious couple than their subjects—their daughter.
Then Catia and Stefan would suffer as they so richly deserved. If Stefan declared war in the meantime, so be it. Yet another way to see him crushed.
In time she’d rule Xandra, with its riches and strategic location. Soon after, she’d conquer the entire known world.
“Why don’t I get to take my own stakes?” Lucette asked Tristan as they stood near the door of the gymnasium, ready to go out into the night. Almost nine months had gone by since they started training, and she was ready to kill her first vampire. She hoped.
He shook his head. “Not a chance.” He pulled his black slayer hood over his short blond hair and zipped on his neck protector.
“But I’ve been training for nearly a year.” She reached for a quiver of stakes, but he grabbed onto her arm and shook his head.
“We aren’t going to get close to the action,” he said. “This outing is just about observation.” He leaned back against the wall, his long, lean body looking especially strong in his slayer uniform. “I shouldn’t even be sneaking you out. If anyone from the academy finds out I brought a girl along to the first-year slayers’ field trip”—he paused—“I’m not sure what they’d do. I’d probably get expelled.”
“I thought we were going with your class,” she said. Tristan was in his third year, and ever since he’d told her about his class outings to get real-life combat experience with the slayer army, she’d been pestering him to take her along. How else was she supposed to get experience?
Tristan slipped a hood over her head. Although she knew the hood and mask were because she was going out into the dangerous night, she couldn’t help feel as if they served another purpose: him wanting to cover her face so he wouldn’t have to look at her.
She chewed on her lip as he zipped her in. Then he strapped on her neck protector and checked the rest of her slayer uniform. It wasn’t as if Tristan ever said anything to purposefully make her feel bad or ugly, it’s just that he never seemed to notice she was a girl. In contrast, she sure noticed that he was a boy. Nearly seventeen, he was practically a man.
“That works.” He took her by the shoulders and spun her around. “No one will guess you’re not one of the boys.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. Her lack of girlish attributes might make it easier for her to hide in among the class of boys tonight, but her fourteenth birthday was coming soon and . . . She shook her head. Even if Tristan might say yes, it would be too risky to invite him to her birthday party. How could she explain meeting him to her father? And asking her mother to concoct yet another lie was out of the question. Plus, she couldn’t even tell Tristan who she really was. Taking him to meet her parents at the palace would blow her cover.
Tristan adjusted his weapons. “Ready?”
“No.” She took a step back from him.
He closed the distance she’d created and ran his strong hands from her shoulders down to her wrists and then her hands. The gesture was so protective, she nearly dove into his chest for a hug.
“Are you frightened?” he asked, his gloved hands still over hers. “We don’t need to do this.”
She pulled away from him. “I am not frightened. But I should have weapons. What if I’m attacked? What if you are? How will I save you?”
He swung one arm and punched her lightly in the shoulder, but hard enough that she tipped to the side. “My brave little slayer girl.”
Although she couldn’t see his expression under his mask, she felt sure he was mocking her, and she gritted her teeth. What would it take for him to take her seriously—as a slayer or as a girl?
“Don’t worry, little Lucy.” He assured her. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Lucette tucked her short curls behind her ears. In the two years since she’d chopped off her long hair, it had grown down to her chin. At least it wasn’t quite so boyish anymore, but even though she was now fifteen, her body still hadn’t cooperated. Well beyond late-bloomer status now, Lucette figured it was time to face the fact that a curvy figure was not in her future.
She kept her eyes on Tristan as he demonstrated a wrestling hold on a younger boy, Hans, who’d been working with them and had been sworn to secrecy about the mysterious girl “Lucy” who trained in the gym late at night. Lucette had been training with Tristan at least five times a week, and although he didn’t give out praise easily, she could tell he was proud of her progress.
She focused her attention on the demonstration she’d soon be expected to emulate. Tristan was playing the part of a slayer, and Hans was playing the vampire. Tristan lunged for Hans, feigning a frontal attack, but at the last moment, Tristan ducked down under Hans’s arm and grabbed it.
Using one leg, he swept Hans off his feet. Once he had Hans on the ground, he twisted the boy’s arm to force him onto his chest, then pinned him by kneeling on one arm and pressing the other into his back.
“Do you understand?” Tristan asked her, as he let Hans up. The younger boy rubbed his arm.
Lucette nodded. Her heart was thumping hard and fast. Not only was she unsure she could pull off this maneuver—especially on Tristan, who was taller and stronger—but these exercises, which resulted in body-on-body contact, made her nervous. Each time Tristan had her pinned or held her closely, she closed her eyes and imagined him holding her for more romantic reasons.
“Tristan?” Hans asked. “Is it okay if I take off? I’ve got a vampire history test tomorrow morning.”
Tristan nodded, and the boy headed out.
Lucette’s heart beat even faster at the thought of being alone with Tristan. Maybe tonight was her chance to tell him how she felt.
The fairy queen had told her that she’d know how to prove her love when the time came, so maybe this overwhelming desire to kiss Tristan was a sign. Maybe she could lift the curse before it even took effect and she and Tristan could live happily ever after. Although he was nearly three years older, there were no rules about age where love was concerned, and no way to control when or with whom love happened. How ironic if her father had been right all along. Maybe she was old enough for love after all.
She watched Hans leave the room and considered how to tell Tristan she loved him. Slowly, she turned with what she hoped was a seductive smile.
Tristan lunged like a vampire. Lucette’s shock vanished and her slayer training kicked in, but she ducked under his arm too late to get a strong hold, and then her leg sweep missed. Before she could adjust her stance, he had one arm pinned behind her back, and he pulled down so that her body was bent back against his—with his teeth on her throat.
She panted, first from the shock and then from the rush of feelings flowing through her. Closing her eyes, she sighed and stretched her head to the side, exposing her neck further.
He dropped her and she fell onto the mat. “Ouch!”
“Ouch?” Tristan glared at her, even more handsome when angry. “Is that all you have to say? If I were a vampire, you’d be bitten. Three bites and you’d be dead. I’m beginning to think you’re not serious about this anymore. Maybe we’re done. I’m not sure I can teach you much more—not if you’re going to be so sloppy.”
Her cheeks burned. “You surprised me.”
“Oh, sorry.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “If I were a real vampire, I would have said, ‘Are you ready, Lucy? Because I’m about to attack you.’”
“Very funny.” She got to her feet as gracefully as she could. She stepped toward him with a soft smile on her face. Before sh
e realized what she was doing, she reached out to touch his powerful upper arm.
But before her fingers reached his skin, he pulled his arm away. “What’s your story, Lucy? Not many girls want to learn how to be slayers. None that I know of, anyway, other than you.”
Her chest heaved as she fought to control her breath and her nerves. He was interested in her, asking personal questions. This was her chance. The fairies had been right: she knew what to do.
She tipped up onto her toes and leaned forward to kiss him. But before their lips met, Tristan jerked back sharply, and the only thing she managed to kiss was air.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
Undeterred, she reached for him again.
“Lucy, that’s highly inappropriate!” His voice was clipped and sharp.
“Why?”
His face turned from shock to pity. He rubbed a hand over his chin. “I don’t . . . I mean, I can’t . . . You’re just a kid.”
“I am not.” She put her hand on his chest, but he pulled it off. “I’m almost fifteen,” she said.
He backed into a leather-topped wooden horse. “Lucy, I’ll be eighteen soon. The age difference is too much. I’ve never met your father, but I’m quite sure he’d kill me.”
“No, you’re wrong. He wouldn’t. In fact, he’s been making me date since I was thirteen.”
Tristan looked shocked at that, so she stepped forward and cornered him against the horse. Just a few more inches and their bodies would touch. But he slid to the side and rounded the horse to put the large apparatus between them.“I’m sorry if I did something to give you the wrong idea.”
Every boy who showed up to her father’s Friday-night galas found her appealing, so why wasn’t Tristan interested?
Realizing the likely truth, she crossed her arms over her chest and backed up a few steps. Those stupid boys liked her because she was a princess. They were trying to get on the good side of the king. None of them thought she was pretty or really liked her; they just pretended to. How humiliating. Her eyes narrowed and she squeezed her lips together, wishing she could erase the entire night.
“My graduation is in a few weeks,” Tristan said. “After that, I’ll be going home to Judra. If you like, I’ll keep training you until I leave, but I understand if you’d rather not.” He looked down.“I’m sure Hans would be happy to continue practicing with you.”
Her heart pinched, and she turned away to hide the pain she knew was spreading all over her face.
“Just forget it,” she snapped. She stomped to the back door, behind which the groom who’d brought her was waiting.
At the door, she turned back. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” As hard as it was to imagine training with Tristan after tonight’s fiasco, it was even harder to imagine never seeing him again.
“Why so sad?” Her father cupped her face, rubbing her cheek with his thumb like he used to when she was little.
She couldn’t tell her father the truth—that she was devastated because her secret slayer trainer had rejected her and had moved home to Judra—and she wondered what she could tell him without lying. Even though she’d been deceiving her father, she avoided outright lies whenever possible.
“Is it boy trouble?” he asked.
Surprised he’d guessed, she nodded as tears filled her eyes. She felt like a total baby, crying in front of her father like this, but ever since Tristan’s rejection three weeks ago she’d felt like crying all the time.
Her mother, sensing her sadness was related to her trainer’s departure, had offered to find a replacement. Even her mother didn’t get it.
Too humiliated to tell her the truth, Lucette had turned down her mother’s offer. Her mother was so delicate and pretty, Lucette figured she had probably never been rejected by a boy. How could she have been? She’d met her future husband so young, and gotten married when she was not much older than Lucette was now.
Her father pulled her into his arms. “I’m so sorry. With all your dates chaperoned, I didn’t think anything bad would happen. Which one of those boys hurt you?”
She pulled back. “It’s not like that, Dad.”
“Then what?”
Her lips started to tremble, but she took a deep breath to calm herself. “I like a boy more than he likes me.”
“Oh, that’s not possible!”
“No, Dad, it’s true. And I don’t just like him, I love him, but he doesn’t love me.”
The look of concern in her father’s eyes turned to warm sympathy. “Oh, Lucette. I’m so sorry. Tell me who he is and I’ll have a word with him.”
She pulled back. “No!”
“But if I can help . . .”
She shook her head.“No, Dad. This is one area of my life where you can’t help. You can’t make a boy love me with a royal decree. Besides, he moved away.”
Her father embraced her gently. “If he didn’t love you, then he’s a very foolish boy, indeed, and not the one you were meant to love. Don’t despair, I’ll introduce you to more boys at Friday evening’s reception. One of them is bound to help you forget this young man.”
Lucette buried her face in her father’s chest. Even if he was wrong about this, it felt so good to be wrapped up in his arms and, for just a few minutes, to believe that he could keep her safe forever.
Looking into her mirror in her bedroom, Lucette twisted to the side and smoothed her hands down her ribs and over her hips. Just days from her sixteenth birthday, she finally had the womanly figure everyone claimed she would. Dressed in her exercise clothes, the closest thing to a slayer uniform she owned, her new curves were easy to see—even if she was still broader in the shoulders and more solid and muscular than most girls.
Her hair had grown again too, but she kept it cut just below her shoulders. It was long enough to put into a tight braid and out of the way for training, but short enough to keep some spring in her curls when her hair flowed around her face.
Her mother had been right about something else, too. Her oversized blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and strong brows didn’t look so freakish anymore. She finally saw her resemblance to her father, as if she were the softer, more feminine version of his handsome self. Boys had certainly noticed, too. She no longer worried that they were flattering her just to please her father, but so far, not one of them had made her feel even a fraction of what she had for Tristan. Ever since he’d gone back to Judra, she hadn’t heard a word from him. Not that she’d expected to. He didn’t know where to write her, even if he wanted to. He didn’t even know her real name.
Enough about boys, she thought. Now that she was about to turn sixteen, her main priorities were keeping her hands prick-free and her neck bite-free. She picked up a stake and the wood felt secure in her hand, but she looked down at her gloves lying on the bed alongside the dress she’d worn that day. If she wanted to keep handling stakes after her birthday, she should get used to holding them with gloved hands. A splinter would spell disaster.
But before she could put the gloves on, something crashed outside her bedroom door. She spun toward the sound, instinctively moving into a fighting stance. A guard always stood outside her door—one of a group her mother trusted with their secrets—but she heard another crash and knew something was definitely wrong. Still holding her stake, she ran over to the door and then opened it slowly.
According to her father’s crazy rules—rules she always followed while at the palace and under his watchful eye—she wasn’t supposed to handle doorknobs herself, not even with her gloves on, but she didn’t have time to go back for her hand protection. Besides, she had three whole days before she turned sixteen. It didn’t really matter yet.
She glanced down the hall, but there was no sign of her guard. She crept into the corridor, moving silently, her senses on high alert, just as Tristan had taught her. From around the corner of the corridor emerged two men locked in combat. One was her guard who fell onto his back, and an impossibly fast male—he had to be a vampire—leaped in
to view. The vampire bent, picked up the guard by his lapel, and began to bite. Lucette sprang into action, rushing forward, adrenaline pumping though her veins.
Two of the palace slayers leaped for the vampire, but the creature deftly slithered out of their way and headed toward Lucette.
“Princess, back to your room!” one of the slayers commanded. Instead, Lucette planted a perfect side kick into the advancing vampire’s chest.
Clearly not expecting that, the vampire staggered backward. But before he could decide whether to attack her or deal with the slayers coming up from behind, she ran, did a round-off to gain power, and then planted her foot in the side of his head. She landed with her stake ready, but couldn’t bring herself to plunge it into the dazed creature’s flesh. Up close, it looked so human, so alive, so clearly terrified at finding itself at her mercy.
She was still looking into the vampire’s eyes when one of the slayers drove a stake into it from behind. She staggered back.
This was nothing like seeing a straw dummy staked, or even watching real slaying from a safe distance. She covered her mouth with her hand, hoping she wouldn’t be sick.
The slayers and her guard snapped to attention, and Lucette spun to the side to see why.
She gasped.
“Lucette!” Her father shook with rage. “When, where, and how did you learn to do that?”
“I don’t blame her, I blame you.” Lucette’s father glared at her mother.
Lucette cringed. “But, Dad, it was all my idea. I pressured her, I begged her.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but if it helped keep the peace, lying was worth it. “I wanted to know a few slayer moves, in case the worst happened.”
Listening, her father’s face softened, but then his anger returned. “It doesn’t matter whose idea this was. If this has been going on behind my back for nearly three years . . .” He shook his head slowly, his eyes narrow and his lips tense. “This is an unforgivable betrayal.” He turned to his wife. “You had to know that.”
Sleeping Beauty: Vampire Slayer Page 8