An Education in Royalty: A Somerset Novel (Somerset Series Book 1)

by Heather C. Myers

  When she arrived, she parked the car in the driveway, and for a moment, she simply stared. The castle was styled as gothic, built out of dark grey stone, and she was certain that it had been constructed with the time of Vladislaus' transformation – or Rebirth, as the history textbooks called it – in mind. It was tall, dark and imposing, with pointed roves and square balconies. There were no guards marching on the balconies, no guards in front of the heavy, stone entranceway. Weren’t they supposed to be heavily guarded? Or did it not matter, since they were capable of defending themselves against most attacks? The windows were all pointed and closed – probably because of the bitter wind currently tousling her hair around - and she wondered how a family of four could live in such a big space without feeling isolated.

  "Miss Grant?" a soft, tenor voice inquired.

  Lizzie tore her eyes away from her temporary new home to regard who had spoken her name. And there he was, the man from the picture. It was Lewis Dragulia, wearing all black, and looking just as he did in the photo. However, he didn't seem all that intimidating, but then again, it wasn't as though he saw her as a threat or anything.

  "May I take your bags?" he asked her as he descended from the doorway and approached her as she exited her vehicle. The door was stone and appeared to be three times as tall as he was and heavier than the car she would be driving for however long this mission would last, which had an intricate design carved into it; a dragon breathing out fire, from the looks of it.

  "I only have the bag," she told him, indicating the backpack sitting in the backseat.

  Without waiting for permission, Lewis reached down to grab it, and then turned back around, indicating that Lizzie should follow. She hated just how obviously awed she was by this place, but she couldn't help it. When they reached the interior of it, butlers shut the large doors behind them, and again, she could only stare. The ceiling was so high – so incredibly high she had to bend her neck back to see the top of it – with Turkish artwork dating back to the late thirteen hundreds painted into it. There were various staircases and balconies covered in rich crimson carpet, and on the walls was more art. Lizzie was certain she’d get lost in the maze no matter how long she spent here. The floor beneath her feet was stone, just like the door, and she knew if she didn’t wear at least socks, her feet would get extremely cold.

  It took her a minute, but she suddenly realized something was missing.

  "Where, exactly, is this blood-sucker in dire need of a babysitter?" she asked, her voice laced with dryness as she placed her hands on her hips. Shouldn't he have met her at the door instead of his younger brother? Already she felt herself develop a small dislike for the guy.

  "By blood-sucker, I'm sure you mean prince," a voice just as dry as hers said. She didn't need to turn around to know that it was Nikolai. “You forget your place, Miss Grant. Despite your inferior humanity, you are speaking of a royal and you should address me, as well as my brother, with respect.”

  Both brothers had thick, Russian accents with a hint of Romanian sprinkled in for flare. While Lewis’ was soft and warm, Nikolai’s was cold and deep, like cold velvet sheets.

  Forget small, she could feel herself develop a big dislike for this vampire, royalty or not. Even though he was right.

  Chapter 3

  Lizzie turned and stared into cool blue eyes she immediately recognized from the photograph she had briefly glanced at when she was on the train. His lips curled up into what she guessed would be his usual smile – an arrogant smirk that somehow fit his face and actually made it somewhat endearing rather than completely devious. Luckily, she would have absolutely no problem with being attracted to the man before her. First of all, he was a prince, and from a logical standpoint, she knew there was no way anything would ever happen between them. Secondly, she could already detect from the way he carried himself to how he spoke that he was very full of himself. Not in a charming way, but in a cold, calculating way. Whether that was how he really was as a person or it was some façade to keep who he was hidden, she didn't know and to be honest, she didn't particularly care one way or the other. Some girls might find arrogance charming, but not her. If anything, it bored her.

  Her eyes glanced briefly at the attire he was wearing, and surprisingly, the man could dress, whether he was dressing for a casual occasion or a formal one. The outfit he currently had on seemed to fall in between on the spectrum. Nikolai was wearing high-waist black slacks and a plain white t-shirt tucked in with black suspenders holding the pants up. His hair was just how it was in the picture; pushed back and held in place by gel. On his feet were polished black loafers, so shiny that Lizzie could see her silhouette reflected in them.

  "So you must be Elizabeth Grant," Nikolai said after taking the time to study her just as she had done with him.

  "Lizzie," she corrected, her eyes narrowing just slightly – enough that Nikolai would know not to call her by her full name. "Just Lizzie."

  "All right, Just Lizzie," Nikolai said. "Since we've made introductions, how about I lead you to the library where we can get this show on the road, as they say."

  The phrase sounded awkward coming out of his mouth, and by the way he grimaced, she knew it felt as awkward as it sounded.

  She nodded but said nothing, and allowed Nikolai to lead her towards the grand library. The hallway was narrow, with the same crimson carpet and rather erotic artwork littering the walls. One painting was of a woman on top of a man – clearly having sex – holding her breasts and looking at the painter rather than her lover. When she glanced back, she saw Lewis standing there, and she could swear that the look on his face was icy, almost loathing. When Lewis saw that Lizzie was looking at him, he forced a crisp smile on his face and nodded his head in respect before tossing his cape over his shoulder and heading upstairs.

  She turned her head and began to follow Nikolai down a long hallway. The floor was made up of smooth black and white tiles, much like a chessboard. Lizzie wasn't expecting to see something so modern in such a historic castle, but she was beginning to find that the truths she had of vampires seemed to be false more than fact. Her footsteps clicked against the floor, but as she studied the prince before her, she realized he seemed to move with grace and silence. If she didn't see him directly in front of her, she would think that she was entirely alone.

  The library itself was grand in nature, and when Lizzie stepped through the doorway, her mouth dropped open in wonder. The only time she had actually seen this many books in one room was when she was a child, watching a scene from Beauty and the Beast. She never thought such a thing actually existed, but here it was, within reach of her fingertips.

  The vampire closed the door behind her and turned so he could catch her eyes. "I take it you are a reader, then?" Nikolai asked, and he seemed confident of his deduction, a small smile on his face. He crossed his arms over his chest. She glanced over at him and realized just how bulging his biceps could be when he flexed them – but that wasn't the point. "Feel free to use this library whenever you wish, day or night. Consider it yours throughout the duration of your stay here."

  "Do you really have the power to offer me something like this?" she asked, staring up at the high ceiling. She was so consumed with her new environment that she didn't see Nikolai walk towards her, stopping only a few inches from her petite frame. He tilted his head downwards so he could match his eyes with hers.

  "I am the next King," he told her softly, but his tone revealed that this was rather obvious. "I can offer you whatever I wish."

  Lizzie stopped any sort of flattery she might have felt from seeping through her system. Instead, she took a step back, distancing herself from the man before her. He smirked upon seeing this, but did not come close to her, and placed his hands behind his back.

  "I think we should start discussing whatever it is you feel you need to discuss with me."

  "Of course," he agreed, and then swept his arm out, indicating a table located in a pocket of the room. The two walked to
wards it in silence and only when they were sitting across from each other did Nikolai begin. "As I'm sure you already know; there was a viable threat against my life made within the last week."

  "How do you know it’s viable?" Lizzie asked, cocking her head slightly to the side. "I mean, you're royalty. Surely you, especially being the heir to the throne, receive them quite often."

  "Yes, you are correct," Nikolai allowed, nodding his head a couple of times. "I have people who decipher whether or not this threat was indeed viable and they determined that it was. If you want their paperwork, I am sure we could get you some copies." Though the offer was friendly, the delivery of it was somewhat dry.

  "Yes, I'd appreciate that," she snapped, though she was able to do so subtlety. Despite how Nikolai came off to her, Lizzie needed to remember he was royalty. Just because he wasn't her prince didn't mean she could outright disrespect him; he had hired her. But she would definitely say something if she was upset about the way he was treating her. That was definitely a given.

  Nikolai's smirk of amusement only deepened and he tilted his head, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest. "You know," he began, and she could swear that his tone had to be natural. There was no other way around it. "I think I'm going to like you."

  "That's great," she said, her tone flat. "Listen, we need to talk about the job you're giving me. I need to know everything so I can do my job and do it well." She paused for a moment before forcing herself to add, "Please."

  "Of course," Nikolai said, nodding once to her. "As I've explained, my team found a credible threat against my life. There seems to be no reasoning behind it, but like all threats against me, I believe it has to do with the fact that I am to inherit my father's throne in months' time. Despite how fit I am for the job, some of my people seem to disagree with me inheriting the position."

  "How odd," Lizzie muttered under her breath, drumming her fingers on the surface of the table, waiting with what little patience she had for him to continue his story.

  Nikolai ignored her, but it was clear that he had heard her because his brow rose and his eyes flashed into hers. Other than that, he continued, ignoring her flippant comment. "At first, I thought I should let my people take care of it, but I guess I didn't take into consideration just how serious the threat was," he explained, straightening up. "Some suggested I hire help. Of course, they meant help by other vampires, but it begs the questions; how am I supposed to know that the vampires we do hire aren't going to double-cross me at some point; and secondly, though the vampire assassins are good, they're not the best. You are the best. I've seen what you've done to every species that has broken some law the three species of Somerset have agreed on. This is where you come in, Elizabeth. As an agent of the NDS, you possess knowledge of the law and skills to enforce it. You are the best, and as a royal, a key figure in the history of my people, I felt it was only right to hire simply the best."

  Lizzie might have felt flattered, but it was just a testimony to how good she was. "Right," she said. "Well, have your people gotten any suspects they think is behind it?" She pushed her brow up, keeping her eyes locked with his.

  "No," Nikolai said, shaking his head, but soon after he pursed his lips. "Actually, that's not true. Someone suggested that Lewis, my brother, might be behind it in hopes to take the throne for himself, but I highly disagree. Though I'm sure Lewis is upset, he respects our laws and he respects our father's choice. He has no choice but to."

  Lizzie let everything sink in, before finally nodding her head. "Okay," she said. She stood up at that moment and brushed transparent wrinkles off her jean-clad thighs. "Well, thank you, Your Highness. I should go to my room and start doing some research."

  Nikolai nodded. "I'll have a butler show you where that is," he said before standing himself. "Lizzie." She turned to look at him with arched a brow, gesturing for him to please continue with his thought. "I would greatly appreciate it if you get on our time schedule as quickly as possible."

  Lizzie said nothing but pushed her brows up even further to agree to what he was asking. So he wanted her to be nocturnal. She could do that. It might be the easiest thing she had to do during the entire mission.

  Chapter 4

  The butler, Carl, was very polite and congenial as he led Lizzie up the main staircase and down the east wing. He explained to her that the east wing was originally crafted by Vladislaus himself for the true love of his life, Elise. He did it so she would have privacy to paint – she loved to paint – and if she was ever lonely, she could look upon the painting of them together in the bedroom she shared with her husband and she wouldn't feel lonely afterwards.

  "I thought they shared the same bedroom," Lizzie murmured as her eyes took in the gothic artwork that seemed to decorate each and every wall. Elise’s style was much more feminine than the dark theme of the castle, and her style was easily reflected in the golds and reds that touched the architecture. It was brighter, Lizzie realized, like the day. She wondered if Elise was the artist behind all of them. It wouldn’t surprise her; now that she had been turned, she certainly had the time for it.

  "Of course they do," Carl said with a dignified nod. "However, he wanted to make sure she had some place just for herself. If they ever were to fight, His Majesty was out feeding, or if she merely wanted to be alone, he wanted her to have a place suited solely for her. These paintings –" He gestured at the artwork Lizzie had been looking at – "were all picked out by Her Majesty.” So that answered her unspoken question. “Everything about the East Wing was decorated by Her Majesty and His Majesty has never set a foot in this Wing for his entire life." Lizzie nodded. Vladislaus must have been more romantic than anyone could have ever imagined.

  Carl stopped abruptly at the last door in the hallway and gestured at it. "This, mum," he began, "is Her Majesty's private quarters. Of course, they do not live here anymore, especially since His Majesty's announcement, but even so, they'll visit occasionally."

  "If this room is so sacred, why am I sleeping here?" Lizzie asked, staring at the door but not quite ready to actually go inside. It was dark oak with curves carved into the door frame, polished to a sheen. The architecture in the east wing had more rounded curves than the rest of the house, and this door was no exception. Even the door handle jutted out into a backwards question mark, sloping downwards and curving back in.

  Carl shrugged his shoulders, an enigmatic smile touching his face. "I wouldn't know, mum," he told her. "The Prince gave specific orders to house you here for your stay. Is there anything I can get you while you are settling in?"

  "No thanks, Carl," she said, forcing a smile on her face. "I'll be fine. Thank you."

  When Carl left her to her own devices, Lizzie turned back to the door and decided to go in. The room was incredibly spacious, and had an assortment of furniture inside including a four-poster bed with a richly-colored red canopy and pristine, white sheets that looked as cool as a cloud, a large wardrobe, a window that overlooked the forest surrounding the castle, a desk, a vanity, a full-length mirror, drawers, and an attached restroom. The furniture was still oak, but a lighter shade of it. However, it was the painting directly across from the bed that caught Lizzie's eyes. Her mouth dropped open in wonder as she stared at it.

  There were two people in the painting, obviously Vladislaus and Elise. It must have been their wedding day due to how formal they were dressed. Vladislaus was tall, though not quite six foot, with ebony colored hair pulled into a loose ponytail and careless bangs that fell into his pale face. His sapphire eyes stood out against his alabaster skin, but it wasn't an unattractive shade of white. Though his lips were curled into a small smile, the painter managed to capture the King's loving sparkle in his eyes as he regarded his wife. He was dressed in all black; a black, long sleeved collared shirt, black slacks, and a black overcoat. His arm was wrapped around Elise's waist while the other hand was holding one of her hands.

  The bride herself looked absolutely stunning. She
had short, platinum blonde hair that was worn in a bob, reminding Lizzie of the flappers from the early twentieth century who made the look so popular. Elise was truly a girl ahead of her time. Her cheeks were rosy, and her sky blue eyes were looking at her husband with pure adoration that anyone with capable sight could tell the two were in love. Her dress was modest, as was the style back in the day, and though it was not yet a tradition to wear white on one’s wedding day, Elise's dress was of the purest ivory. Her hand that was not holding onto her husband's was placed on his chest in a loving manner.

  There was no doubt whatsoever that the couple in the portrait was in love.

  Lizzie found that they contrasted greatly; she in all white, with hair the color of platinum, while he dressed in all black, his hair the color of the night sky. And yet they looked absolutely… perfect together.

  She forced her eyes away from the painting, and instead, led herself over to her bag which was lying on the bed. She quickly changed out of the clothes she was wearing and into the more comfortable ones that she had brought with her – loose grey sweatpants and a comfortable shirt with Clint Eastwood on it. She adored Clint Eastwood. Men like him – masculine and protective - didn't seem to be made anymore, which was such a shame…

  She laid on the bed, flat on her back, and her eyes once again took notice of the painting across the bed. Before she could consciously stop it, she felt her heart constrict painfully. She didn't want to think about it, but her mind wouldn't let her do anything else. Before she could even process what she was on her mind, a knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.