He takes four shallow breaths before answering me. “In a way you cannot imagine.” It’s a quiet, deadly confession. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to my forehead.
And then he’s gone.
I hear Nial walk up and turn to see him drinking from a wine glass. I can smell the blood, though, and it’s not fresh. I have little doubt he got it from a blood bag.
“You do enjoy tempting fate, don’t you?” he says. His light blue eyes study me. There’s something about Nial that make me feel as if he sees straight through me. “It’s a dangerous thing, tempting the wrath of the man who thinks he has claim over you. It will not be met well.”
I don’t have a response for him. I feel shame. Anger. Resentment. So many emotions, and up against such a powerful foe, I don’t know what to do about them. I change the subject, instead. “Where is Rath? I haven’t seen him since I Resurrected.”
“He thought it best to give you a few days to adjust,” Nial says after he takes a sip from his glass. “I do believe he’s staying with the Sheriff. He knew that’s what you wanted.”
I nod. “I did. I asked him to leave when it happened. I suppose that means he is human, then?”
Nial shakes his head. “When it comes to Rath, I don’t think anyone knows.”
So, it wasn’t just my dull human senses that didn’t know how to classify Rath. Even my vampires don’t know what he is or what he’s fully capable of.
“How long until I normalize out, do you think?” I ask the good Dr. Jarvis.
“It took me about a week,” he says as he observes the room with me. “But I do suspect it takes others longer. I was used to being around blood all the time. I don’t crave it the same as most. I’d suspect it will take you about three weeks.”
Three weeks seems like so long.
“Do not forget you have eternity before you,” Nial says, as if he can read my mind. “Three weeks is the blink of an eye.”
“Thank you,” I say as I reach out and take his hand in mine. “You’ve always been able to put things in perspective for me.”
“Of course,” he says. He raises my hand to his lips and places a brief kiss there before re-joining the blood party.
I follow behind him, weaving in and out of Court members. I wonder how old they are. Thousands of years? Young, fresh vampires, like many in my House? Generations of vampires have been created. An entire new species.
It’s incredible, really.
And somehow, the King has kept it secret for all this time.
“The weather outside is quite frightful.” I turn to see X walking up to my side. She wears a white dress that clings to her form and reveals all too much. Her hair is styled severely and her makeup darkens her pale features. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen a curse bestowed.”
“It does make for a lovely winter wonderland, though,” I say. There’s something about X that sets me on edge. If I thought Jasmine was calculating and controlling, it’s nothing compared to the woman beside me.
“Hmm,” she says indifferently. “Best to dance carefully when dealing with curses, Lady Conrath. They have a way of stepping on your toes and cutting them off.”
It’s a grim analogy. But I suppose she’s seen plenty of evidence. She is the King’s chancellor, after all.
“I came to tell you that the King wishes to join you in your room this morning,” she says. A prickly fish instantly inflates itself in my stomach. “He’s found in the past it helps Sevan remember her past lives faster when he is around her more. You’ve been granted a bit of privacy this day, but he does grow impatient quickly when it comes to his wife.”
Without another word, she walks away, back into the crowd.
I swallow hard and feel my body go cold.
The party goes and goes. It’s a constant roll of food and blood and dancing. I waltz with Markov, jam out with Cameron, let Nial lead me in a dance I don’t have a name for, sway back and forth with Samuel.
And finally, the King catches my eye. The music shifts to something beautiful and mournful. As if sensing what is to come next, the crowd parts between us. Cyrus walks toward me, his boots tapping across the marble floor. I am drawn to him because I’m moving, too. We meet in the center of the ballroom, right over my father’s crest.
Cyrus bows deeply to me, and it only seems right that I curtsey back. “May I have this dance?” he asks as he looks up to meet my eyes.
“Of course,” I answer him. And it says something about his enchantment when a smile pulls at my lips, and it’s genuine.
Cyrus takes my right hand in his. His other hand wraps around my waist. I settle my free hand on his shoulder, feeling his strength through his jacket. When he pulls me close, I’m overwhelmed by his scent. Of cotton and sandalwood. Of the mountains and time. Cyrus even smells infinite.