by Ali Winters
Cassius closes the distance between us and rests his arm over my shoulders, pulling me into his side.
Vampires and their constant need to touch.
I don’t pull away.
We remain like this for a long time. I hate that I am finding comfort in him when he’s not the one who should be comforting me.
At some point, he starts talking about places and people I’ve never heard of. I ignore him, but the steady drone of his voice rumbles though me, and distracts me from my thoughts.
I put my hand on his side and push back, looking at him—really looking. Cassius breaks off mid-sentence, watching me with a perplexed expression.
He hasn’t acted insincerely this entire time, never trying to get me to do or think what he wants. He has, as he said, just offered his presence.
“Why did you keep trying to take me from Alaric back at the manor?” I ask.
His expression darkens, jaw clenching. He takes me in, calculating what to say. I know, at best, I will get a half-truth.
I shake my head and pull away. “Don’t bother. If you’re not going to tell me—”
“I was there on orders from the queen. She asked me to see if there was a bond between you two and, if so, to break it.”
My mouth drops open. I climb to my feet, wanting to put more distance between us. I knew the truth would make me angry, and I still asked for it.
He came to Windbury to break our bond. He set me up to nearly be killed by a demon-cursed vampire. There is nothing good about this man. He is evil—a pawn for his queen.
I run my fingers through my hair and tug. Yet his actions here and last night contradict all of that. He is inconsistent.
Cassius stands with me, advancing. I retreat until my back is against the wall, and we are chest to chest.
“You’re a bastard,” I say breathlessly. “You can be my guardian if you want, but you needn’t bother pretending with me.”
Fury distorts his features. His fingers dig into my shoulders. “I’m not pretending with you. I answered your question. If I’d told you anything else, that would have been the lie. You need to stop thinking of yourself as pathetic and weak. You will never get what you want without power, and to get power, you must take it.”
I frown, not understanding why he’s telling me this again.
“You are devious—”
“You must learn to bend so you do not break.” He releases me. “Just as I’ve had to.”
I want to curse him, rage at him, but I can’t seem to find the words.
After a minute, he backs away. “Eat, Clara, and get some rest. You will need all your energy for the reclaiming tomorrow.”
He has gone from scolding me to acting as if we had never fought in the span of seconds.
“A servant will be here in the morning to assist you.”
Then he’s gone.
I want to hate him, to blame him for everything. But none of this is his fault. Instead, I think of what he said.
He is right. I must learn to bend so I don’t break.
I must never break.
Chapter Twenty
Clara
After Cassius leaves, I debate whether or not I should sneak out to look for Va’rin. But the halls have been continuously filled with voices. There’s no way to leave, let alone make it to the secret passage on the third floor, unseen, so I continue to lay in bed, staring at the high ceiling.
Warmth blooms in my chest. I miss Alaric. I miss the weight of his hand on my hip as I sleep, his warm musky scent, and I miss his presence. I hoped he would have come to visit me before the reclaiming, though I knew that would be impossible from the start.
Dawn was several hours ago, and nothing has happened yet. I haven’t moved since I opened my eyes. I’d woken from a light sleep the moment the faintest light peeked through the archer’s slit window.
Of course, a vampire’s idea of the morning would be different than a human’s, but I remain here, on my back, praying to the Otherworld that time would stop or at least slow down as long as I stay still.
Dread pools at what the day will bring when I get up.
The door is thrown wide, and a woman storms in. She sneers when her gaze lands on me still in bed. She fists her hands on her hips and heaves a bone weary sigh.
“Get up, you lazy girl,” she orders, marching to the window and opening it. A cold blast of winter air blows in. I suck in a sharp breath, squeezing my eyes against the chill. “As soon as the sun sets, you will meet your new suitors.”
Suitors. She either doesn’t know what tonight is really about, or she thinks it’s some kind of honor. Either way, her word choice sets my blood on fire. These vampires are not going to court me or attempt to win my favor. They are beasts who will vie to see who’s control of me is the strongest.
“I would rather not,” I grumble, tugging the thin blanket over my head.
The woman grabs my wrist and yanks it, dragging me out of bed and onto my feet.
Demons and saints, she’s strong.
“You’ll bruise her if you continue to handle her like that. Our queen would not be happy.” The woman freezes at Della’s words. “You are dismissed. I can handle her from here.”
The woman releases me like I was nothing more than a sack of soiled clothing then turns to Della and says, “You have two hours, and not a minute longer. I will return to escort her.”
The door slams shut.
“I don’t care if I’m about to be reclaimed. I’m not a possession,” I seethe.
“If Alaric had fully marked you right away, then you wouldn’t be in this predicament.”
She picks up a pile of folded material and straightens out a cloudy gray dress. Her hand smooths over the material as she works out several wrinkles.
“Why are you here, Della? Did Cassius send you again?”
She looks up from the dress and says, “Someone had to chase away your mother.”
“What?” I hiss.
She continues to work out nonexistent wrinkles. “I owed you that much.”
I shake my head. There was never any semblance of friendship between us, real or otherwise. “Owe me?”
“Otherworld take me now,” she mutters, dropping the dress over the foot of the bed to face me. “How can you be so dense?”
I say nothing.
“You do know that Lawrence is my sire?” she asks.
“Yes.”
Della walks up to me and takes my hand, sitting me down on the bed. She sits next to me and takes my hand. “I’ll tell you something I’ve never told anyone before.”
I swallow and wait for her to continue.
“I allowed Lawrence to turn me because I loved him. It wasn’t until it was too late that I realized I had only been a way for him to pass the time. The moment he met Rosalie, I knew he didn’t care for me. At least, not the way I’d wanted him to.” Della holds her chin up, but her eyes slide closed. “Now that he can never have her… maybe he will be able to see me again.”
I suck in a breath and hold it.
Della waves a hand. “I know it’s horrible to be glad that another vampire has died, but maybe some good can come out of everything.”
That’s… disturbing.
“You… you think you owe me because I killed Alaric’s sister?”
Della nods, and a tear glints, caught in her long lashes. Her face pales, and she buries her face in her hands.
I reach out and pat her back, not sure how to feel. I work through what she told me. Rosalie’s death is something I’ve struggled with for a long time.
Della breaks the moment by jumping to her feet and wiping the back of her hand over her eyes. “Enough of this. We don’t have much time to get you ready.”
“I’d rather you throw me from the window,” I say.
Della snorts. “Don’t be ridiculous. I couldn’t get your head through that tiny opening.”
With that, she quickly strips me of my clothes and fits me into the too-tight corset. It�
��s all I can do to keep breathing in this thing.
The dress looks like a storm, dark gray with a thin layer of shimmering material on top. The neckline dips low. It’s designed to show off my neck and shoulders. There are no sleeves to hide my scars or my dagger. The skirt is thin and tight.
Della talks as she dresses me with deft movements, instructing me on how to act and when to speak—keep my head up and eyes down and answer questions only when they are directed at me.
She stands before me, a long nail tapping her chin as she examines her work. “Things will go smoother for you if you behave as expected.”
I force a smile, but it is more of a grimace than anything else.
“If there is a vampire you think has the possibility of letting you live, don’t fight their compulsion. It’s not much, but you have some choice in the matter.”
I’m about to tell her that there is no vampire I would ever obey when the human woman returns.
Della steps back. “This will have to do.”
“Fine,” the woman says, turning to me. She jerks her head, indicating that I’m to follow her and walks off without a word.
I take two steps before stopping and running to my bed. I clutch the hilt of the dagger and squeeze my eyes closed for a fraction of a second before holding it out to Della. Her lips part in surprise.
“Give this to Alaric.” When she doesn’t take it, I add, “We both know I can’t take it with me, and he should have it back.”
She reaches out, hand hovering over the hilt.
“If you honestly feel like you owe me, then do this and you can consider your debt paid.”
Della purses her lips then nods once. As soon as her fingers wrap around the hilt, I drop my hands and race after the human woman.
Della is right. Alaric and I should have made sure I was fully marked. It had scared me then, but why? He is my best friend, a rock against a storm. He is someone I care for.
If only I hadn’t been cut at the theater… If only I had stayed in the ballroom and not wandered the halls… If only.
If only.
If only.
I can come up with a hundred things I could have done better, but it will always be easier to see things after the fact.
I follow the woman down the halls, feeling the eyes of palace servants on my back. Their blank faces send a shiver down my spine. It’s hard to tell if they are skilled at hiding their thoughts or if their emotions have long since been compelled out of them.
I’m suddenly sick with nerves. I want to run outside and breathe in the cold evening air to get away from the queen and the vampires who want to own me.
Della said to look for one who seems decent. I should have laughed because the chances of that are damn near impossible.
We turn the last corner, and the servant stops, waiting for me to catch up.
“Be on your best behavior,” she says, and for a second, I think to be as terrible as I can. The woman takes my wrist and squeezes, her boney fingers digging in. “Don’t even think of causing a scene. If you are out of line, make no mistake, the queen will have your head.”
There is no exaggeration in her words.
“Now,” she continues. “When you enter, keep your head up, look straight ahead, and walk directly to the queen. Bow to her, but do not rise until she gives you permission, and above all, obey her as if she has compelled you.”
My skin goes ice cold. The look on the woman’s face says she knows her threat worked.
The doors to the throne room lie straight ahead on the right. It’s close, but the walk feels like it takes an eternity to reach them. She stops, giving me one last push.
Two guards pull open the doors. I stand frozen in place.
The queen sits on her throne, surrounded by hordes of vampires filling the room, standing to either side to create a straight path to her. Elizabeth stares me down, a smug look on her delicate features.
Somewhere in the distance, someone plays the violin. It’s all wrong. It doesn’t fit.
All eyes swivel to rest on me. I want to run, painful, agonizing death be damned.
“Get moving, girl,” the servant woman hisses.
Finally, I get my legs to obey and take a step forward. The music stops, and the only sound is my heels clicking against the polished marble floor with each step.
I keep my eyes locked on the queen, though I can’t help but notice the subtle shift in demeanor in the vampires I pass. Their chins lift, faces angling away. I want to walk faster and end this show as quickly as possible, but in truth, any faster and my shaky legs would give out.
When I finally reach the queen, I bow low.
“Your Majesty,” I say in a voice filled with as much saccharine as I can manage. There is no respect underneath the words, and I know she can sense it. She isn’t naive enough to think otherwise.
She says nothing for several heartbeats, and I wonder if she is testing me.
“Come and stand by my side. The suitors have waited long enough.” Elizabeth pats the arm of her throne.
Slowly, I straighten and do as she bids. The second I’ve taken my place, a vampire enters then another and another until there is a progression of four men and two women. My heart stops when I see the seventh vampire enter.
The room erupts into a din of murmurs.
I can’t breathe.
My heart resumes beating, though now the rhythm is erratic as it pounds mercilessly against my chest.
Alaric.
The queen shifts in her seat. I don’t care if she can hear how my pulse races with hope.
“We let him join in the fun, as a way to regain some of his dignity at failing something so simple,” she whispers under her breath so only I hear. “Don’t get your hopes up. He will try, but he will not win you back.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Clara
I can’t pull my attention away from Alaric. Seeing his face only compounds how much I’ve missed him.
But the happiness I feel comes crashing down around me. His presence here is only to make this process hurt worse for both of us. Alaric has no chance. He will try and be made to fail before everyone. He will be publicly humiliated by having something taken away.
Like the vampires ahead of him, he keeps his chin high and gaze forward. The lines of his features are stony, not even holding a sliver of emotion.
There are seven vampires in all spread out into a long line before the dais. Silence descends upon the room.
Elizabeth lifts her arm, and the large demon bird glides through the air, seemingly to come from nowhere. They soar over the heads of the vampires on silent wings. The demon circles the room once then lands on the high back of her throne. With a flick of her wrist, one guard speeds from across the room to stand right before me, moving too fast for my eyes to track.
The guard leads me down the steps and into the center of the room. Once there, she bares her fangs and says, “Move from this spot and you will not live long enough to take your next breath.”
Elizabeth stands at the edge of her dais. She pulls in a single deep breath and commands the attention of everyone in the room.
“Each suitor may approach the human one by one to examine her, but if you touch or attempt to compel her before it is your turn, you will be denied.”
I hold my breath as the seven vampires encircle me.
The first vampire steps forward, wearing a half-smile that makes my skin crawl. Tall and reedy, his arms and legs look too long and thin for his body. His sandy brown hair is greased back, making his crooked nose stand out.
He reaches out with his lanky hand, stopping short of running his fingers through my hair. He leans in and inhales deeply. I keep my eyes locked on Alaric, in an attempt to steady my pulse.
Once the first vampire returns to his place in the circle, one of the women approaches. After several seconds, she shakes her head and moves back, allowing the others their turn.
One by one, this continues until all except Alaric has
examined me. I wait for him to take his turn, wanting to be near him, to have him make his intentions clear to everyone in the room.
A knot forms in my gut when he doesn’t.
“Who among you wish to claim the girl?” the queen asks.
Alaric and two of the men step forward. One is blond with unremarkable features. Nothing about him stands out. His presence is forgettable which could make him dangerous.
The other vampire to step forward is the crooked-nosed man. The gleam in his eye chills my blood and I instantly push the other man from my mind.
The queen looks at the others and asks, “Do any of you wish to try?”
In unison, they shake their heads. Elizabeth nods a dismissal. They back up, melting into the crowd.
“Whoever among you can compel her the easiest can claim her,” Elizabeth says. “Mr. Thomas, you may go first.”
My pulse races in anticipation and dread as the three vampires surround me. For the first time, Alaric meets my gaze. His face is a neutral mask, but I see the worry in his deep sapphire eyes.
You have some choice in the matter. Della’s words come back. I will let Alaric compel me. Whatever he commands… I trust him.
“Come, human,” the blond vampire orders.
His voice echoes in my head as his power seeps through his words and latches onto my marrow. It pulls on me, urging me to obey.
I fight it with everything I have as his power clouds my mind. My body takes jerky steps toward him.
“Embrace me,” he says. “Think only of me for the rest of your short life.”
The order seeps into my mind, making my will weaker by the second. I can feel my body giving in. My thoughts grow hazy behind the throbbing pain.
In the end, I know it’s a losing battle. Woodenly my arms fling themselves around his neck. My stomach roils at the touch.
“Kiss me,” he orders.
I grit my teeth as I lift up on my toes, bring his face down to mine, but not even the pain can make me follow that order. Sweat beads along my forehead. I close my eyes, using every ounce of willpower to fight. Then, his lips come crashing down on mine. I rear back, pushing at his shoulders.
