Page 13 of The Crimson Princess (The Ravengale Chronicles #1)

Chapter ten

I s he following me? What is this? I’m incredulous at Toren’s presence, uncertain if I should be ready for battle, manipulation, or seduction, but whatever the case, I will show no fear.

I feel no fear. I don’t even hesitate to close the space between us and step in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

Just that easily, he’s towering over me, and I’m captured in the magnetic pull of those bluer-than-blue eyes. “Princess,” he greets softly, his eyes warm, but his expression cautiously schooled to be unreadably vampire. “What an interesting surprise.”

“Do not call me that outside the palace.” I grit out the words between my teeth in a low warning. “Use my name. Satima . And is it a surprise? How are you here? This is nowhere near the royal cottages.”

“Your mother brought me here one time. It seemed a good place to pay my respects.”

My lips part in shock, and I can’t catch my breath.

I…my God. My mother and Toren? It’s as impossible to believe as it is possible.

My father cheated on her too often to count, and Toren is as fine a male as any woman could desire and one of the only living males who rivals King Killian’s power.

It must be true, and I swear I feel a little sick. “You…she…Were you and my mother—”

“No. No, never , Satima. We met here to talk through some diplomatic strategy she didn’t feel your father would agree on unless we framed it in advance.”

I’m a generally suspicious person, especially with beautiful and powerful vampire kings. “What diplomatic strategy? ”

A couple eases closer to us to wait on their drinks, and Toren grabs our cups from the counter but holds onto mine, motioning toward the door. “It’s a nice night. Why don’t we grab a table outside and chat?”

“Satima.” At the sound of Naomi’s voice, I glance to the counter to find her standing there, her brown eyes filled with sadness and sympathy. “I rushed your box. Come see me before you leave.” She slides my goodies across the counter.

“Thank you,” I say, stepping to the counter. “I know you’re busy.” I grab my treats. “I really appreciate it.”

“You’re special, honey. I didn’t want you to have to wait. And be careful. Keep your head down.” She lowers her voice. “Your eyes will draw attention, and you’ll be swarmed with condolences.”

She’s not wrong, thus the baseball hat, but it’s far from a good disguise, and the eyes do tell the story.

I nod my vow of caution, and seemingly satisfied, she squeezes my hand and hurries away.

With a pinch of emotion in my chest, I turn back to Toren and decide he sticks out far more than me in a village of commoners.

He’s huge, and even dressed down, there’s an arrogant quality about him that reeks of royalty.

I step in front of him, and he just stares at me.

He does that a lot. Is it a vampire thing?

“Outside is a good idea,” I say, and indicate my box. “And if you refrain from pissing me off, I’ll share my sweets with you.”

His eyes dance with mischief. “I’ll save the bad stuff until after we eat.”

“Is there bad stuff?” I ask, certain now there is, and that’s why he’s here.

“Relax,” he murmurs softly, leaning in a little closer, his voice low and for my ears only. “I was joking, princess. There’s nothing I haven’t told you.”

A breath trickles from my lips, the tension in my shoulders easing, and he motions toward the door, a question in the action.

I nod, and we work our way past the tables.

As Toren’s hands are full, I open the door, the action forcing him to give me his back.

I almost expect him to protest, but his eyes meet mine, warmth with the connection, and I can feel the pulse of a delicate trust between us, at least for now.

He exits first, and I follow him out, pointing the direction of a bar that faces the ocean and places our backs to the rest of the crowd milling about the patio seating.

“Good choice,” he approves, and we claim our seats, side-by-side barstools, the salt of the ocean licking at my lips, the cool air a salve to the heat of my tangled emotions.

Once we’ve settled in, I’m oh so aware of our intimate proximity, but I tell myself it’s a necessity for privacy reasons.

It’s far smarter to be close, with our voices low, when speaking of sensitive topics, like him and my mother.

Just the idea of them creates thunder in my chest. “Why did you meet my mother here? And how did you even communicate with her?”

“She had a messenger deliver a request for me to meet her.”

My brows dip at the idea of my mother doing this behind my father’s back. “When? Why?”

“Ten years ago. And as to why,” he continues before I can press, “your father was considering testing me. He wanted to end my reign.”

I blink, utterly confused. Though I have no trouble believing my father would want to end his reign, it seems a careless action. “And my mother did what?”

“She knew I was more powerful than your father gave me credit for being.” He pauses for effect. “Just as you do. She shared your gifts. Therefore, she didn’t believe war would end as your father hoped.”

Toren is dangerously in the middle of my business, and yet I feel no stir of fear or warning inside me.

It’s confusing.

As if reading my mind, he adds, “How I knew of her gift is nothing nefarious. I saw an exchange between her and one of my men. He lied to her. I knew he lied. I knew she knew he lied. When I met her again, which was ironically here at the Silverdale Bakery, I asked her why she trusted me after his lie.”

“And she said what? ”

“He lied to me, too. He was dangerous to us both, she’d claimed.”

“What did you do?”

“I investigated, discovered she was right, and I dealt with him. And I never spoke of how I found out.” He offers nothing more. “Ultimately, she trusted me, not because of my discretion, but because she’d read my intent when I’d visited your palace.”

“I see,” I say, sipping my cocoa, and unbidden, the memories the sweet taste brings squeeze my heart.

I didn’t know enough about my mother when I should have known everything.

Of course, I can’t take everything Toren says as truth, either, I caution myself, peeking over my cup to ask, “And what did you do when you found out my father intended to start a war?”

“I invited your father and his queen, your mother, to visit our military facility as a show of good faith.”

“Did they?”

“Yes. And it was not what your father expected.”

I set my cup down, no longer hiding under the guise of enjoying it. “Meaning what?”

“I’d say you could come see for yourself, but your presence would be newsworthy, and your father would find out.”

He’s not wrong, but oh, how I’d like to learn more about this vampire king and how his world stands next to ours.

Okay, if I’m honest, that’s true, but the interest runs deeper and far more personal.

He continues to spin me around and around in every moment I’m with him.

“One day,” I murmur, as if it’s a nonchalant answer when it’s anything but, “I’d like to know what I’m up against.”

“I do not see you as weak,” he says without hesitation, “and I have no reason to attack gale. I’m not hungry for your kingdom.”

“So they all say.”

His gaze doesn’t falter, as if he invites me to look into his eyes and see his truth. “Do you doubt me?”

“I don’t know you. And, supposedly, neither did my mother, and yet she inserted herself in between you and my father, the man she loved.”

He rotates in his seat and turns to face me, and since it would be weird if I didn’t do the same, I shift his direction, barely avoiding a brush of our legs. “I was never intimate with your mother,” he says, “nor did I consider it as an option.”

There’s a flutter in my chest I can only call desire. I want to believe him, and that’s the problem. “Want” tends to shadow logic. And in shadows, there is death. “If only she could confirm or deny your claim.” The statement cuts right through my heart.

“You’re an empath and omniscient. You can sense if I’m lying. Trust your instincts.”

“I’m omniscient, not an empath.”

“You’re both.”

I can sense what he is, and his powers, but truth versus lies? No.

Can I ?

His head tilts, the intensity of his inspection cutting. “You’ve only partially come into your powers and you don’t know what you have and don’t have at this point.” It’s not a question.

“Of course I have. My birthday—”

“Was the day your mother left this life. Grief clearly suppressed your change, at least in part. You’re an empath.”

“How would you know?”

“I know a lot of things others do not.”

He must be omniscient, though I can’t sense that in him, but then if the change hasn’t fully happened perhaps my magic is a mess right now. But that’s impossible. “The Book of Life—”

“Says you come of age at twenty-three. I get that. But you’re powerful enough to resist the change while suffocating in grief.”

“Maybe my gifts are not hers.”

“You have the gift I speak of. I can feel it, but it’s buried deep within you. Be ready, princess. A late coming of age may well lay you down with the force of it, or it might arrive in subtle, gentler pieces. ”

I’m overwhelmed with a sense of being vulnerable with Toren, of him knowing what I do not know, and how?

How does he think he knows what my father did not?

I face forward and reach for my box of sweets.

“I used to come here with my mother, and we always took home a big box of treats.” I glance over to find him still facing me. “You want to try them with me?”

I can feel his hesitation, and I point to a chocolate cookie. “My favorites.” My brows dip. “You do eat chocolate, right?”

“I love chocolate.”

“Is it the same as ours, or—”

“We adopted most of the gale food about the time I was born.”

I want to ask how and why, but a far more interesting question steals my focus. “Where’s your mother?”

“Also gone, and for a very long time.”