Vengeful Prince

by Mary E. Twomey

  It’s not phrased as a question, so I don’t feel the need to answer. I reason that if I can get out of this little interrogation saying as few words as possible, that’s the best-case scenario.

  He watches me, so I refuse to fiddle with my dress, though my fingers are itching to play out my nerves on the fancy red material. “What do you want out of this?” he asks, his voice velvety and even.

  I lean next to the closed door, bending my knee so I can rest my foot against the emerald wall. Not exactly ladylike, but it’s me. I can only put on so much of a charade for a man who’s not dumb enough to buy a lick of it. I cross my arms and shrug, meeting his purposefully composed posture with as much ease as I can muster. “A husband seems the easy answer, so let’s go with that.”

  His head tilts to the side, and I wonder if I catch a note of amusement on his features. “How about let’s go with the truth. Just for kicks.”

  Though my confidence is on the verge of giving out, I’ve had to play it cool and confident in a room filled with drunken, armed idiots most of my life. So I pretend that’s all this is, even though I know Ronin’s gaze is focused and his head is clear enough to take me down with a few well-placed words. So instead of lying to a man skilled in drawing out the truth from people, I piece together enough bits of reality and sew them into a whole story. “The truth is that Des is a good man. I’m a little surprised I have to tell you that. You know him better than most. There are more reasons to fall in love with him than there are to stay away from someone that incredible. He came into my bar the other day with a broken arm, but was still intent on defending me when one of my regulars got out of hand. I knew I couldn’t wait another day before we were married. Maybe our love looks strange to you, but for the first time in a long time, I finally feel like I belong.”

  That part is very much true. Before I met Des, I’d never had the desire to hold a man’s hand, other than Prince Salem, who will never give me the time of day. Latching my finger onto Des’ feels right, like I have to question the world a whole lot less.

  “You belong here. With a vampire.” King Ronin’s gaze is questioning me, trying to get to the root of the anomaly that found herself in his study.

  I meet his eyes with a coldness I’ve never been able to shake. “Well, I’ve never belonged with my own people. I’m not a Territorial. Tell me, is there something about vampires I should hate? Are you someone I should be afraid of? Is there something wrong with the good citizens of Drexdenberg?”

  The corner of his mouth twitches, and I’m fairly certain if this massive desk didn’t carry fifty million tons of political weight and pressure on it, he would’ve actually smiled at having the tables turned on him.

  There’s a strange scent in the air, but I can’t put my finger on it. Whatever perfume it is I’m detecting beneath the hints of oak and Ronin’s aftershave, it isn’t helping the king’s headache, which I’m beginning to think is a regular occurrence. He squints and turns down the lantern on the wall before retaking his seat. “It’s too bright in here,” he explains.

  “Another headache, or the same one?” I inquire in a way I hope sounds compassionate.

  He sighs, and for a second, we’re equals, talking about normal things. “It seems to be all variations of the same, long one. It rarely goes away these days. I’m not sure what the problem is.” Then, as if he’s grown tired of talking about it in the span of three sentences, he waves his hands to clear the air. “It’s nothing to be concerned about. Vampires cannot die of a headache.” He says it like it’s an obvious joke, but there’s a flash of insecurity in his eyes that make me question just how horrible these headaches must be if they’re scaring him this much. With one hand, he ties his bowtie, and then undoes the knot.

  “There’s vallerous in the air,” I inform him the moment I pin down the odd scent. “Whatever you’re using that has vallerous root in it, it’s not doing your headaches any favors. It can even cause insanity over time.”

  “Vallerous root?”

  I shrug. “It’s poisonous to me, but not to changed vampires, what with your immortality bonus. Still, it should go. It’s going to mess with your head if you’re around it long enough. How much time do you spend in this room every day?”

  Ronin meets my eyes with a touch of sadness I can tell he’s trying to conceal. Though his face is unlined, the lantern flickers across his features, bringing out what could be misconstrued as bags under his eyes from too many nights spent hovering over paperwork and policies. “I have many duties as King of Drexdenberg.”

  “I can imagine. Sounds lonely.” I sniff the air, but I can’t locate the source of the aroma. “If you didn’t bring vallerous root in here, someone did. Anyone who gives you vallerous root is not your friend. Might want to think about having this room professionally cleaned.”

  “I’ll consider doing exactly that.”

  I run my tongue along the top row of my teeth before I dig myself a nice little hole to live in, skipping to the meat of why I’m here. “I think you should work in specific wording into your will or whatever that I’m not to get any inheritance from the throne. Don’t cut Des out, but make sure I can’t get my hands on a single coin.” His mouth falls open, which is probably the best thing I’ve seen in a while. “It’ll make you feel better about having me around, and it’ll make it clear to your kingdom that I’m not with Des for his money. I had a job before Des came along, and after I get settled in here, I fully intend to get a job of some sort so I’m not dependent on him.”

  King Ronin Karamathian’s brows are furrowed—the only wrinkled thing on him. “You know no one in Drexdenberg will give you a job. But you’ve made your point. A foolish point, but I’ll take it into consideration.”

  I shrug. “I guess I have more faith in the goodness of your people than you do. Someone will give me a job.” In that moment, I do feel sad for the vampires. They act as they’re expected to behave, and no one sets the standard any higher, believing that the worst in them will always be true. “You’re their king. Isn’t it your job to bring out the best in them? To believe it’s there and encourage it to shine? Are you really so resigned that you’ve raised your people to constantly disappoint you?”

  “You act as if they’re my children.”

  “You’re their king,” I remind him. “And you’ve held this seat for nearly a century. You have literally raised them, shaped them. Don’t tell me you’re disappointed in the finished product. Don’t tell me I believe in their goodness more than you do. I’ve been attacked with a knife tonight, but that one really cuts me deep.”

  He holds up his finger to me in warning, as if my tongue needs taming. “You are naïve.”

  “And you are tragic.” I chew on my lower lip as I examine the dirt under my nails. No fae would allow that. I would never fit in among my own people. I glance up at Ronin, wondering if this man might truly be able to hear my heart. “Maybe I had more faith in you than you can back up. Magic is what you make of it, and you’ve made this colossal mess.” Fiora’s wisdom pours out of me, and in that moment, I truly miss her. “Perhaps you’re the sort of father who’s proud of hatefulness and smallminded thinking.”

  I should stop talking.

  But he’s sitting there with his mouth hanging open, so I dig my heels in deeper. “Somehow, I don’t think that’s you, because I choose to believe the best in vampires. In shifters. In fae. You know who taught me that vampires could be kind? Your great-grandson. I hope he learned that from you. I hope you don’t see a glimpse of goodness in him and squash it. If you’re smart, you’ll see kindness blooming in your house and you’ll fight to protect it. That’s the kind of visionary king the vampires deserve, don’t you think?”

  I really should stop talking.

  King Ronin stands, and I fight the urge to run out the door. “If you believe in our race so much, then tell me one thing: are you on Green Lightning?” His jaw tightens as he moves around the side of his desk, and I wrestle hard with myself to cont
rol my terror, standing my ground as best I can. “Because if you are, that would suggest you don’t believe the best in vampires, as you claim.”

  “I’m on Green Lightning, yes. I also carry a dagger with silver in it, just in case.” His eyebrows shoot upward at the scandal. “See, I’ve learned that hurting people tend to hurt people. I’ve witnessed too many attacks not to protect myself from men who are too broken to see straight because no one’s given them a shred of light.”

  He stands on the side of his desk that’s closest to me, so there’s nothing but five feet of space between us. He rests his backside on the desk and crosses his arms over his chest, sizing me up. “Is that what you’re doing with Des? Is this some statement you are trying to make? Because I’ve got to tell you, I tire quickly when I’m being lied to.”

  “Not much lying happens on a legal document. We’re married, and you don’t have to like any part of it. I guess I just hoped more for you than this sad skepticism you seem to like being stuck in.”

  He snorts, which makes him look younger. “You speak with too much boldness, child.”

  “And you’ve been silent for far too long, old man. Prince Salem was attacked on your soil. Prince Alexavier was attacked on your soil. Your great-granddaughter was attacked on your soil. And your great-grandson had an arrow shot through him by one of his own. The princes and I loved Des and fought for him more than you did. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  Yeah, that was one push too far.

  He points in my direction with narrowed eyes. “You will watch your mouth, young lady.”

  His words trigger dozens of buried memories of my own father saying exactly those words. I can picture General Klein’s face growing red when his anger boiled over, yelling at me for speaking my mind when he’d clearly ordered a silent daughter from the stork. I don’t know if I miss him. There’s too much duplicity and cruelty for me to use that word.

  It’s this that I miss. Someone sparring with me because I’m certain I know things about the world that they don’t, and they know those things will get me into deeper trouble than I can handle. I fight the insane urge to run into King Ronin’s arms, seeking shelter for myself when I’m all too often the storm that wrecks every good thing.

  “I apologize,” I croak out. “I’m not naïve,” I offer with a wan smile. “I know you hate me, and your kingdom will hate Des and me for this. But I also think you’re tired. Tired of the wars. Tired of the violence. Tired of the same old prejudices that keep the world from marching forward into something truly great. You want someone to stand up for goodness because deep down, you want more for your sons and daughters than this.” I meet his eyes with a gentleness to my scolding. “You should be proud of Des for taking a stand. I think maybe part of you is.”

  There’s silence between us for a solid half a minute before he speaks. “What you’ve done… They’re going to despise Destino for this.”

  I shrug. “He’s a big boy. I think he wants what’s best for the country more than he needs to be popular. He’s a leader, just like you taught him to be.” I turn and fix my hand on the knob before pausing to cast King Ronin one more glance over my shoulder. “Your way got him shot in the shoulder. It’s time for things to change. If you’re not brave enough to believe your people can grow up, Des is up for the challenge. I believe in him. I’m not too jaded to doubt that same goodness exists in you, too. I believe in you, Ronin.”

  I yank open the door and make it into the hall before my fear takes me over. The second I hear the click of it closing, I hold my face in my hands and let out one whole minute of silent self-loathing and controlled panic. I’ve learned that’s all I can allow myself, or things start to get too unruly. I don’t want to be fighting with Des’ relatives. I should be checking his wound and making sure he’s alright. It’s like his family is determined not to care that he was just shot.

  Sadness seeps into my bones, replacing the fear and irritation of the night. Des is the one my heart is breaking for. He lives in a home where his parents didn’t sit with him while he was getting stitched up by the healer, where they hate his new bride, and where his best friends are spoken down to in subtle, needling ways.

  I should go sit with him, make sure he’s alright. As hard as this is for me, he’s been living in it. I had Fiora. He had this crappy excuse for a family.

  I roll my shoulders back and move down the hallway so I can check on my husband.

  Like a good vampire’s wife.

  17

  Sharing a Bed

  Destino

  No matter what I say, Lily’s insistent I don’t lift anything heavier than a glass of water. Even that, she eyes with skepticism, ready to jerk it out of my hands and hold it to my lips for me. From anyone else, it would be irritating, but from her, it’s just cute. She backs me up toward the foot of the bed, where she helps me sit down in the stiff-backed chair. “I promise, I’m okay. Clare said I’ll be fine.”

  It’s the fifth time I’ve said as much, but she’s not interested in hearing any of it. “You don’t get to tell me not to care, okay? I’m the one who pulled that arrow out of you, so I get to be as nutty about your health as I feel like. If you wanted to be left alone, you should’ve been shot in front of Prince Salem instead. I’m a healer’s daughter. I don’t have it in me to ignore something as bad as this.”

  Her frustration makes me snigger, which does nothing to calm her down. Instead she fluffs my pillow as if it’s been mean to her, punching the edges to make the center plumper. “I take it things went well with old King Ronin?”

  She avoids eye contact, which I’m guessing means it went dreadfully. “I still have my head, though I’m not sure he’ll be pleased with that arrangement for long.”

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I knew I shouldn’t have left you in there alone with him. He can be… Are you alright?”

  “I’m fine.” She straightens my sheets. If she notices they’re lavender, like she requested while I was bleeding in the carriage, she doesn’t show it. The housekeeper assured me they were as soft as clouds. Lilya tugs at the corner to straighten out a crease. “I won’t be intimidated by a person unless I have the capability of being impressed by them, too. I’m zero impressed with him so far, so he doesn’t get to make me shake in my boots. He should be in here. So should your parents. You were injured.”

  For someone without parents of her own, she sure has opinions about how they should behave. “I like that you’re all concerned. It’s nice. But really, it’s all fine. This is just how things are.”

  “But you deserve better.”

  I motion to her agitated expression. “And I have better. I have you. I have Alex and Salem. That’s all I need.”

  Her shoulders slump, and I can see the edges of her aggravation softening. “Are you sure you’re okay? I can go find your healer, if you like.”

  “You’ve waited on me hand and foot since you got up here. The guys turned in twenty minutes ago because they get that I’m fine. Vampires heal faster than fae, you know.”

  She rubs her forehead. “This whole chore of switching my sleep schedule is messing with me,” she admits. “I’m exhausted, but I also need to clean everything in sight and make sure no one shoots you with a second arrow.”

  “You’re a good person,” I observe, taking in her consternation for the compassion it truly is. “You should get some sleep, though. You’ll drive yourself mad trying to make sense of it all in a single night. There are centuries of dysfunction to unearth here. Best not take it all at a run.”

  She nods. “You’re right. I should turn in. Could you tell me which way is my room?”

  I quirk my eyebrow, but the obvious doesn’t dawn on her. “Um, you’re standing in it.”

  She purses her lips in confusion, looking around at the emerald walls with golden fixtures and finely polished wood floors as if she’s just seeing it all for the first time. “But this is your room. Right?”

  I stand from the chair near t
he foot of the bed and walk slowly toward her. “Yes, and you’re my wife now. If we want to keep up the charade, separate bedrooms during our first week together might be a tad suspicious. Besides, no one will try anything unsavory if I’m around.” I stand before Lily and link my little finger through hers. “I promise not to try anything unseemly, unless specifically asked.” It’s the wrong time for me to wink at her, but I do it anyway.

  Thank the clouds she gets my humor and sniggers lightly, lessening the tension in the room. “Are you sure you want me in your space? I mean, I can sleep in the chair or on the floor, no problem.”

  “Alex would have my head if I did.” Then I bring her finger to my lips and kiss it. I need to make sure she doesn’t jerk away in disgust. I don’t want happenstance to draw a woman into my bed who’d rather be six feet under than curled up next to me. I’ve made a concerted effort to mute all my smiles so I don’t flash my fangs too often. I hope that helps things, but truly, only time will tell if she can stomach being this near a vampire.

  Instead of backing up, she blushes, and I’m fairly certain I’ve never seen a prettier picture. My throat has never tightened at the sight of a fae woman before, yet I find myself unable to look away from her delicate features.

  Her gasp when I show her the nightgown Alex requested be brought in spills from her lips like I’ve presented her with a stack of pure gold. She admits to me that she can’t get the fae knot undone that Alex tied at her back, so I take her trust in careful hands while I do my best to loosen the thing while cooped up with my sling.

  She’s petite, but that’s a common fae trait. Though, as I can feel her ribs through her dress as I fiddle with the purple sash, I wonder if it was harder for her to get regular meals in Neutral Territory. I’ve already sent a courier with a stack of gold to Fiora, but now I wonder if I should send more.

  I’m partially undressing my wife. I don’t know how to do this. She’s a mystery to me, as much as my world is strange to her. Yet here we are, avoiding eye contact and standing too close to be casual.