Page 15 of The Crimson Princess (The Ravengale Chronicles #1)

Chapter eleven

T he castle sleeps while I do not.

I toe my way up the stairwell to my quarters without intrusion, but then the staff has long protected me, sheltered me from my father’s wrath.

They all adored my mother and feared my father.

And while some would say a king should be feared, I believe he should be loved as well, and not just by the women who slide between his sheets.

My mother often defended him, declaring the weight of the world on his shoulders, but I fear our people would not fight for him out of devotion, and that feels dangerous to me.

I wonder if Toren’s army would follow him under duress and demand, or true desire.

Per his own admission, there is an uprising driven by his brother.

And to date, he’s expressed no need for our military support against civil unrest.

Once I’m inside my room, I lock my door and lean against it, my lashes lowering as I relive the moment Toren had leaned in, his breath warm on my lips, so close to a kiss I’ll never know.

Regret clenches in my belly that I shouldn’t feel.

He’s an ancient vampire who would rip my power from my very hands if I ever let my guard down.

And tonight, I came far too close to such stupidity.

Unbidden, a tremble vibrates through my body and I gasp for air.

My fingers curl in my palms, and ice slides down my spine, followed by a surge of heat.

It’s happening. Toren, damn him, all but willed a vicious change upon me.

A surge of power quakes inside me, and my knees buckle.

I crash to the ground at the same moment the lights flicker and shatter.

Darkness and magic suffocate me, and I cannot breathe, my skin so hot I think I’m on fire.

I can’t take it. I can’t make it stop. Help , I whisper in my mind, but there’s no one to answer.

No one to help. I’m alone, and all I can do is brace for the pain.

No one prepared me for this; no one told me what to expect. Only that’s a lie.

Toren told me.

Only Toren.

And with the vampire’s warning in my mind, I begin to tremble all over again, fading into the bittersweet of oblivion, and time is no more.

The concept of time vanishes as I lay there, but there are fleeting memories of pain, so much pain.

I come back to the room in a splash of daylight dilating my eyes.

I’m in the corner, knees to my chest, without any idea how I got here.

For a beat, maybe much longer, I just don’t know, I sit there, unable to move, but as day brightens, reality blasts through my mind.

The druid prince.

Breakfast .

I push to my feet, and my head spins, my stomach roaring with hunger, and my gaze lands on the clock on the wall.

I’m due at breakfast in fifteen minutes.

Somehow, I have to shower and dress and look presentable in ten minutes.

No sooner do I have the thought than I’m dressed in a long, formal lilac dress with a deeper green woven into the silk.

I gasp and rush into the bathroom to find myself in perfectly primped order.

My hair is freshly styled, draping my shoulder, shiny and smelling of flowers.

My makeup perfect, and my lips a pretty pink.

Did I do this?

Did my magic do this?

Magic comes to me as easily as breathing, but I’ve never been able to take it this far.

If this is a new power, I darn sure could learn to like it, though I will never deny myself a hot bath and a glass of warm cocoa.

There’s a tapping sound echoing from my bedroom, and my brows dip as I step outside the bathroom, my gaze drawn to a window.

There sits a galbird, and I assume Ambrose is responding to my message.

The idea of setting up a meeting with a friend is a needed escape, and I rush toward the messenger.

The window is stuck, and I grunt with frustration.

I decide to give my new skills a try. With a simple thought, the window opens.

The galbird drops the note inside the opening, where the paper tumbles to the floor.

By the time I’ve retrieved it, the bird is gone.

I shut the window using my hands not my magic, the freedom to lex, hard to fathom after years of hiding my true self from the humans I lived amongst.

The note in hand, I unfold it and read:

Princess Satima,

We’re friends until we are enemies.

A friend you almost kissed, and I’m always one galbird from remedying that misfortune.

—King Toren

I’m stunned at his effort to communicate, my skin hot, and this time it has nothing to do with the change and everything to do with the intimate tone of the vampire king’s words.

He’s thinking about the kiss we didn’t share, too, and this pleases me far too much for my own good.

Or maybe he’s just seducing me for his own interests, and I’m a fool.

The portal has aged me, forced me beyond my youth, and brought me toe to toe with many a devious Third World being, not all of whom wanted to fight for their freedom.

Some wanted to negotiate, sweet-talk, and even gift me powers to remain on the human side of the portal.

All of them returned to Third World.

I toss the note in the air, and it disappears, already sealed away in a special magical box under my bed and invisible to all but me.

I tell myself I keep Toren’s note in my very special and private place to prove his manipulation should it ever be necessary, though there’s a niggle of more inside me that I swiftly bury.

As my mother often said, a good princess, and guardian, never allows herself to be unprepared, and that’s exactly what I’m doing.

Ensuring I’m prepared for anything Toren throws my way.

Which, for now, means setting aside my exchanges with Toren and focusing on the druid prince who’s expecting me for breakfast. I dash for the door and waste no time heading down the stairs.

The castle is officially awake, the staff bustling about here and there, preparing the flowers for today’s Tribute, while the mix of sweet and savory scents trickle from the kitchen where the day’s food is being prepared.

Last night was the first time I’d eaten for pleasure in days, I realize, and only because the sweets brought me the joy of my mother’s memory.

The thought of another Tribute day, filled with condolences and blossoms that symbolize her loss, knots my belly.

But I’ll eat. I’ll eat because it’s part of being polite, and I’ll eat for strength. I’ll eat to go on, and I go on for her.

Once I’m in the main foyer, Mikhail, our head of security, is quick to let me know Bellar has already arrived and is in wait for me in the gardens.

Mikhail is tall and fit, with a buzz cut, and wears a royal security uniform that sets him apart from our army.

It’s black with the gale green emblem on his shoulder.

Mikhail is close to my father, and despite looking no more than forty human years, he’s nearly as old as our king, or so my mother once told me. In other words, his ways are set.

“Just to be clear,” he states, his tone as sharp as his jawline, “I don’t like him.”

“Because you’re conditioned to hate druids.”

“Your point?”

My lips are so very close to an amused curve he will not appreciate, and I cautiously firm my voice. “Just ensuring we’re on the same page.”

“We are.”

His words are pure steel and crankiness, which, even for him, strikes me as quite extreme. “He did nothing to invite further ire?”

“Not yet,” he states, “but I’m sure he will. And your mother would not approve. ”

And there it is. He’s heard from my father, who all but told me to seduce the druid prince. “I do not approve,” I assure Mikhail. “And as was the case with my mother, I have a strong will.”

“Do not bend, princess.”

Do not bend.

There is a message in those words that reeks of secrets and lies, and I’m reminded that my father all but told me he was whoring me off to Prince Bellar. He underestimates the druids, and me, if he believes that’s his golden ticket to peace.