Kingsley is sporting the gothic look he rocked last night, dressed head to toe in black with a studded belt and unlaced boots. Tattoos peek out from the sleeves of his shirt, and a few thick band rings ornament his knuckles. Again, he looks like the opposite of the Kingsley I grew up with.
Kingsley crooks his brow at me. "Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?"
"You're the ones who opened the door then stood out in the hallway and talked loudly," I point out. "It's not my fault I overheard."
His lips tug into a smirk. "Sure, it's not. Just like it's not your fault I spent all day trying to track down Gabe."
"I never said that wasn't my fault." I feel sort of bad, considering he has dark circles under his eyes and his skin is paler than normal. He's probably been up all day. "And I feel bad for running off."
"Good." He moves past the stranger and steps into my room. "Don't ever do it again."
"I wasn't planning on it," I say. "Although, I'm pretty sure I don't have to take orders from you."
His lips twitch. "No, you don't."
Okay, so maybe being queen won't be entirely awful.
To make the situation even more bizarre, Kingsley lowers his head and gets down on one knee. "From now on, I swear to protect you with my life. I promise to make sure no harm comes to you. I take a vow of silence that all your secrets will remain your secrets. I will give my blood to protect yours."
I gape at him. "What're you doing?"
He continues to ramble on nonsense with his head bowed.
"He's initiating himself into his new job title," the stranger says with a curious smile gracing his face as he studies me from the doorway.
I glance down at Kingsley, babbling about blood spilled and death sacrifices, and then back at the stranger. "What's his new job title?"
He straightens and ambles into the room. "Your sworn Blood Protector." He must read the confusion on my face because he adds, "Every queen has a clusterfuck of bodyguards that will throw down their lives to protect her, but she also has one guard-the Blood Protector-who not only guards her life, but guards her secrets. He does anything to protect her, will be there when she needs him, and lives and breathes for her."
My gaze drops to Kingsley, who is down on one knee in front of me. "And mine is Kingsley?"
The stranger nods. "The king appointed him at dusk." He strolls around the room, tracing his finger along the top of the dresser. "The words he's quoting right now are part of a spell that will bind him to that oath forever. If he breaks the oath, he dies."
I blink. "Well, that … sucks. For him, anyway."
The stranger glances up at me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Only if he breaks the oath."
"Yeah, I guess so." I pause. "Who are you?"
His eyes light up as he claps his hands together. "I'm Dexlarelle. Dex for short. I'm your stylist."
I stare at him stupidly. "You're my what?"
"Stylist," he repeats in amusement. "By the shocked look on your face, I'm guessing you didn't know the queen has one of those, either."
"I don't know much about the queen," I admit. "Which might make me the worst queen ever."
"Or the best."
"Why's that?"
"Because it means you can give us a fresh start, and we're in definite need of one of those." He approaches the bookshelf, skims his fingers along a row of titles, and selects a thick book that looks more ancient than the vampire species. "This will tell you a lot about the queen's history." He hands me the book, and then whisks to the end of the shelf. Tapping on the side with the palm of his hand, a small compartment glides out from the wood paneling, revealing a file of worn leather notebooks. "And these are the last queen's journals if you want to learn about being a queen on a more personal level."
"How did you know they were in there?"
He plucks up one of the notebooks and gives it to me. "I was the stylist for the queen before you."
"Wow, that makes you ol-" I bite down on my tongue to stop my mishap. Vampires hate being called old.
"Very smart on the knowledge of what it takes to be the queen," he finishes for me with laughter in his eyes. "Lucky for you, that's just what you need."
I run my hand along the engraved cover of the notebook. "These are the last queen's journals? Like, her private thoughts?"
He nods, the sparkle in his eyes dulling. "I'm not sure what exactly is in there, but I'd recommend reading it and thinking about all the ways not to do what she did."