Thicker Than Blood

by Angela Roquet

  “Yeah, a real gem,” I grumbled and finally mustered up enough nerve to snatch the sketchpad away from Ursula. “She was bait, trap, and hunter all in one.”

  Ursula nodded slowly, and her eyes unfocused as she stared off into space. “She had a taste for blood from the very beginning. I caught her drinking from my harem more than once—as a human. I had her and the blood doll whipped for their insolence, of course.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  She went on, unfazed by my sarcasm. “Scarlett was disobedient and difficult, but there is no denying that she was also a powerful vampire. I first anointed her on her sixteenth birthday. She was crafty for a young human, and she only grew more formidable as a half-sired fledgling.”

  A knock at the door interrupted story time, and I considered making a run for it. I really couldn’t care less about Ursula’s hell spawns’ formative years. The duchess was a shitty sire. We’d already established that. What more did she think I needed to know?

  One of the harem donors poked his head inside the room, a tray with a blood pot and two espresso cups tucked in the bend of one arm. “You requested blood for two, Your Grace?”

  “Yes, thank you.” Ursula crooked a finger at him.

  The poor guy shot me an uncomfortable, apologetic grimace as he crossed the room and set the tray down on the desk. This was my little corner of the manor, and the only other person I’d tolerated ordering people about in my space was the duke—and that was only because he owned the damn place. But my attention shifted before I could call Ursula out on the offense.

  “Blood for two? Is the duke joining us?”

  Ursula rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of my desk. “It’s for you. I’m trying to be a decent sire here. Consider this our practice round before we have to face the queen again.”

  I swallowed, remembering that the daunting reunion was just two nights away, and pulled out the desk chair to sit down.

  “Okay, sure—I mean—thank you, Your Grace.” I picked up the pot of blood and filled one of the cups, handing it to her before reaching for the second. Ursula waited until my drink was poured and then clinked her tiny cup against mine.

  “See?” she said. “This isn’t so bad. Now, where was I?”

  I took a swallow of my blood, hoping it would pacify my hangry annoyance long enough to suffer through the rest of her creep-tastic tale. “I think you were about to get to the part where you turned Raphael, and Scarlett decided to help herself to his blood, too.”

  Ursula’s bottom lip crumpled, and she looked away as she took a sip from her cup. “I should have been firmer with her. She was too willful and required a much heavier hand than I employed at the time. If I’d been a better sire, Scarlett would have excelled as a royal scion.”

  “I think some people just aren’t meant to be vampires. It wasn’t your fault that she was batshit crazy.” I didn’t know why I was trying to comfort her, but I guessed it wasn’t a bad start if I were going to be stuck with her for years to come.

  “It was my fault.” Ursula lifted her cup again and took a longer drink. Blood coated her top lip, and she licked it clean with a thoughtful frown. “I could have molded her into the perfect vampire, and instead, I abandoned her to wallow in my own grief. I won’t do the same to you. I won’t let Morgan down again.”

  The promise sent a chill through me.

  I needed facts, not molding. All this talk of whipping and heavy hands…if she thought that shit was going to fly with me, we were going to have problems. I was peeved enough with her snooping through my things.

  “You stink,” Ursula said, twitching her nose at me. She set her empty cup down on the tray and hopped off my desk. “Finish your blood and rinse off. The tailor will be here in twenty minutes.”

  “Tailor?”

  “We’re being fitted for our Imbolc dresses. Chop-chop, vampling.” She clapped her hands in my face. “I expect my new scion to wow the masses.”

  I cradled my cup of blood to my chest and blinked after her as she left my room.

  Yep. This punishment was definitely a dual sentence. Two bats, one stone. The queen was teaching us both a lesson.

  I just hoped we’d survive it.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The entirety of the next night was spent in an armored car cutting across the Midwest. Dante had dispatched three sets of decoy vehicles the night we left for Denver, sending them off in various directions. Though, I had a feeling that our enemies would require more time to regroup after the park debacle.

  We arrived unscathed, and the queen’s staff tucked us in for the day, our last reprieve before the party—and the ceremony that would make the union between Ursula and I official. If the anticipation didn’t kill me first.

  Murphy bowed and held out his hand to me as we entered the foyer of the queen’s house. “Your Ladyship,” he said, a quiet note of humor in his voice.

  I tried not to scowl as I slipped my sweaty palm into his and scanned the ballroom like a desperate teenager at prom. At least I didn’t look the part.

  Ursula knew a thing or two about dressing for fancy parties. Sure, she’d been out of the loop of vamp high society for a while, but that’s what high-end stylists and tailors were for. My airy, chiffon gown was a dusty rose color, and I hated to admit it, but the damn thing was actually comfortable. A professional hair and makeup artist had curled and pinned and painted me until I resembled a porcelain doll, and Ursula had spritzed me with some fruity perfume before we left our guest suite.

  Dante seemed to be the only one not interested in forcing us to be roomies. Thank goodness.

  The duchess had decided that we should take a walk through the back gardens until more guests arrived—because what fun was being introduced to an empty room? And now we were ready to make our debut.

  The doorman didn’t bother announcing me—who was I, anyway? But he perked as Ursula entered through the double doors at my back. She’d chosen a green gown for herself, similar in style to mine, with the flowy chiffon and petal-like sleeves. Donnie and Lane stood a few steps behind her, wearing white tuxedo jackets and black pants, same as Murphy.

  Technically, I was on bodyguard detail, too. But the dress and all the glitz set me apart from the guys. Though, it also made our little entourage look less standoffish. Murphy released my hand and moved in behind us with Donnie and Lane, forming an impenetrable wall at the duchess’s back.

  “Her Grace, Ursula, Duchess of House Lilith,” the doorman declared to the crowd congregating in the mouth of the ballroom. Now that Ursula was sharing the title with Kassandra, they would be announced by first name, as well.

  The din of the crowd dropped off suddenly as everyone turned to watch her enter—and by proximity, watch me enter, too. If there were any question about whom the queen would assign as Ursula’s adoptive scion, our stylistic twin treatment erased all doubt.

  My face warmed as the stares lingered, some inquisitive and others envious. How many of these fanged rubbernecks were our foes? How many were harmless critics? Could any of them be trusted? I hoped the makeup hid the worst of my discomfort.

  “Smile,” Ursula said under her breath, her face frozen in a mask of muted gratitude. I assumed it was the most extreme expression she had decided she could fake for the duration of the party. It wasn’t too over the top, but it seemed to pacify the mob of bloodsuckers.

  I tried to mirror the look, but even the smallest effort made my cheeks ache after more than a few seconds. I was out of practice. Smiling pretty was Laura’s specialty.

  Lord Starling was the first to greet us as we ventured deeper into the ballroom. A young man in a similar Kung Fu getup was at his side, and it occurred to me that maybe Ursula’s twin fashion was an Imbolc custom. There were dozens of matchy duos scattered throughout the room.

  “Your Grace,” Lord Starling said, placing a hand over his heart and dipping his chin politely. “I never got the chance to offer my condolences.”

  Ursula touched his hand. �
��I didn’t either. How is Tabitha?”

  “She is struggling,” he admitted, then nodded to the man beside him. “Merlin was pledged to become her second tonight, but she is in no condition to mentor a new scion. Still, House Starling cannot afford to forfeit the opportunity to grow, so I shall take him as my fifth. These bonds are sacred and should not be forced.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was referring to the bond Ursula and I had been ordered to forge, or maybe the ones she’d shared with Scarlett and Raphael. Either way, she didn’t offer him anything more than a placid smile. A proper duchess did not openly decry the queen’s demands.

  Tabitha had to be Sonja’s sire. The only vampire I’d made friends with at the bat cave—until the last few weeks, anyway. Though, I didn’t quite consider the rest of my training unit friends. More like cordial acquaintances.

  I heard Blair Hanson’s familiar chortle over the crowd. She stood on the opposite side of the ballroom near the hall that led to the art gallery. Mic was with her, keeping a careful eye on the House Starling guests. He caught my gaze, and his mouth softened into a weak smile. It was far more pleasant than the sneer he’d perfected during our three months of training.

  Mic hadn’t forgotten who freed him from the coffin he’d been sentenced to after being falsely accused of Sonja’s murder. His house was still bitter over the slight, but at least I didn’t have to worry about him holding it against me.

  Lord Starling cleared his throat, and I returned my attention to him.

  “Tabitha will be pleased to hear that your adoptive scion helped apprehend Sonja’s killer.” He made it sound so…professional and clean, when the event itself had been anything but.

  “Yes,” Ursula cooed. “She is quite extraordinary. The queen flatters me with such a gem.”

  My ears burned. The duchess had been referring to me as a diamond in the rough since we’d struck our uneasy truce. Her new determination was unnerving, to say the least.

  “Cousin,” Dante called as he slipped through the crowd.

  He’d arrived at the party before us to speak with the queen about his scion candidates, so I hadn’t seen his evening attire yet. The shimmery blue three-piece suit was a work of art. I openly admired him and could hardly suppress a laugh when he blushed. As if every woman in the room weren’t looking at him the same way.

  “Forgive me for interrupting, Lord Starling,” he said to the older vampire.

  “Not at all, Your Grace.”

  Dante straightened the lapels of his jacket. “Shall we prepare for the ceremony?” he said to Ursula and me, holding out an arm to each of us.

  I hooked my hand inside the bend of his elbow, mirroring Ursula on his opposite arm. Anticipating and copying her moves seemed to minimize the nitpicking. The extra effort was vital if I wanted to preserve my sanity.

  Guests curtseyed or tipped their hats at the duke and duchess as we headed for the queen’s receiving room. I felt like an awkward third wheel, but when I attempted to withdraw my hand from Dante’s arm, he pinned it between his elbow and ribcage.

  “Thirty-six scions will be presented to the queen this year,” he said. “You will be first in line.”

  “Thirty-six?” Ursula made a pained face. “Must we stay for the full ceremony?”

  “Considering your need to reaffirm alliances, it would be advisable.”

  She groaned softly but didn’t object.

  “Is Kassandra here yet?” I asked. Saying her name aloud rose a bead of sweat along my hairline. I’d ruined her big plans to take out the queen, and now we were going to be fam. Sort of. She had to be just as thrilled about it as I was.

  “No,” Dante answered with a grin. “Let her be fashionably late while we remain one step ahead.”

  The throne room had been rearranged since the All Hallows’ Eve Ball. It was lined with rows of high-back chairs decorated with colorful ribbons. White curtains hung from the walls, and they seemed to reflect the light until it created a blinding brightness that made my eyes water.

  The queen’s ornate chair was angled off to the left side of the dais along the back wall, and five smaller, but equally decorated chairs were lined up at the opposite end.

  Ursula groaned again. “She would put my damn chair on the stage, wouldn’t she?”

  Dante pressed his lips together and gave her a tight smile. “Did you really expect her to make this easy? Play nice and restore her trust in you.”

  I followed them, stopping at the edge of the dais to glance at the reservation cards in the front row.

  “Who are you looking for?” Dante asked. He’d released my hand and now stood in front of the center chair of the five opposite the queen’s. Ursula took the one to his left.

  “Uh, myself?” I cocked an eyebrow. “Who else would I be looking for?”

  “You’re up here with me.” Ursula patted the empty chair at the end of the row and rolled her eyes. “You’re going to be my scion. Why would you sit anywhere else?”

  I didn’t know what to say. It seemed beyond awkward to be grouped in with them, but I climbed the platform stairs and took the chair she directed me to without further comment.

  I supposed the remaining two chairs were for the prince and Kassandra. I practiced my poker face on the guests as they began trickling into the room, hoping I’d have it down before the royal scourge arrived.

  “Breathe in, breathe out,” Ursula crooned in my ear. “The trick isn’t to pretend you’re a statue—it’s to imagine you’re alive. Smile. Nod. Laugh a little as though you haven’t a care or worry in the world.”

  “I might have too many of those to make this work.”

  “Not tonight you don’t, vampling.” She patted the top of my hand where it lay on the armrest of my chair. “It’s Imbolc. Time to focus on cleaning slates and starting fresh.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  The room filled up quickly, the hum of chattering guests drowning out my thoughts. I was thankful for the mild chaos. It made it easier to avoid Kassandra’s glare when she arrived with the prince. Her pastel yellow gown matched the prince’s suit jacket. They looked like a pair of daffodils swaying in the breeze as they paused every few feet to greet guests.

  I stood with Ursula and Dante as the pair reached the stage, a courtesy they accepted with small bows before taking their designated seats.

  The queen arrived very last with a dozen decorated guards swarming around her like bees on a full bloom. She wore a gown that would have made any bride swoon—layers and layers of white silk and tulle, pearl beads and lace. It was a wonder she could fit down the center aisle and walk up the stage steps, but she did. And she pulled it off like a boss. I wondered how many hours of practice that had taken to nail down.

  When Lili reached the dais, she turned and opened her arms to silence the crowd. “Tonight, on the sacred eve of Imbolc, we welcome home my grandscion, Ursula. Her return fills a void that our community has felt since the death of my firstborn, Morgan, and Ursula brings with her a vampling of remarkable prestige, an orphan who has gone above and beyond to serve the call of her kin. May Selene bless their bond and heal their hearts as well as our own.”

  “By the blood!” everyone cheered.

  Lili basked in their praise and then turned to us. “Tonight, my children, you are born anew. Rise, Ursula, Princess of House Lilith, and anoint your new scion for your kin to bear witness.”

  A collective gasp stirred in the crowd. My own was added to the mix. No one had mentioned anything about bumping her up to princess.

  I stole a glance behind us to where Kassandra sat beside the prince. Her face was unreadable, but that telltale tendon in her neck was at it again. Alexander’s surprise was plainer, his eyes blinking stiffly, mouth parted in a small o.

  “Jenna,” Ursula whispered, drawing my attention as one of the servants approached with the shiny tray that held the queen’s ceremonial dagger.

  We’d gone over this part at least. I lifted the chiffo
n skirt of my dress and knelt at Ursula’s feet—at the princess’s feet. She seemed surprised herself. In fact, the one who didn’t look completely blown away, other than the queen, was Dante. I wondered if he had conspired with the queen and helped orchestrate this grand reveal, and what advantage he thought it provided.

  Ursula’s hands shook as she collected the dagger from the tray. It was already unsheathed, leaving her other hand free for the bleeding. She angled the tip over her index finger, but it took her a moment longer to steady her aim before she pressed the blade to flesh.

  A dark drop of blood rose to the surface. It swelled on her fingertip, quickly nearing the point where it would break and run. My mouth opened automatically, anticipating her next move. I was a fast learner when I applied myself. But Ursula hesitated.

  She knew how the Eye of Blood worked. The secrets it would lay bare. She’d taken my blood by force, the same way her scion had taken my life, and only now did I recognize her shame and regret. Her blue eyes brimmed with tears as they searched mine, and she took a timid breath before finally pressing the tip of her finger to my tongue.

  “With this blood, I anoint thee mine forevermore.” Her voice was little more than a whisper, but it echoed through my head, harmonizing with another.

  The vision, while the tamest the eye had revealed, was also the most jarring. It took place in a room much like the one we were in now, and with many of the same guests watching. Morgan stood where Ursula had been a moment before, dark hair unraveling over both shoulders, her hazel eyes ripe and filled with longing.

  Blood trickled from a cut on her finger, but as she reached to touch it to my tongue—to Ursula’s tongue—once more, the queen cleared her throat. This was a public ceremony, not a bedchamber. The groom did not take his bride at the altar, nor reveal whatever taboo practices they enjoyed in private.