Page 40 of The Crimson Princess (The Ravengale Chronicles #1)

Toren stands and offers me his hand, helping me to my feet.

“Like I’m hungry. Freya’s opening her bakery early for us.

You all may come, but then you need to get lost.” Toren blinks us out of his kitchen, and we appear inside a vampire’s version of a cozy bakery, and I’m coming to realize they do everything in dramatic fashion.

It’s two levels with a pair of curved stairways on either side of a balcony.

The immediate area is filled with a mix of cute tables, covered with red silk cloths and adorable table displays decorated with books and baubles.

A beautiful petite blonde with long hair and black rimmed glasses, rushes our direction.

“King Toren,” she greets, her energy as young as the twenty-something years she appears, though looks are deceiving.

“I’m so pleased to have you and Princess Satima here with me,” she adds, bowing to us both.

“Welcome, princess. I’m Freya, the owner of the bakery.

And I’m absolutely honored to have you join us today. ”

“I’m honored to have you invite me. I’ve heard amazing things. Do you use magic to bake?” I ask, as the gift of baking exquisite treats is actually quite rare and highly regarded.

She holds up two fingers an inch a part. “A little bit of a very special magic passed down through my family.” She glances at Toren. “There’s a sampling table set-up in the oval private room upstairs. ”

Toren’s team appears to our right, and her brows shoot up. “I didn’t know they were joining you.”

“They begged,” he says. “And they aren’t joining us. I told them they would need to take theirs to-go.”

She laughs. “They can stay. They do protect us from harm. I’ll get them set-up down here.”

Toren offers her a small bow and then blinks us into the oval room that is quite literally oval.

A table of the same shape is filled with too many delights for me to begin to taste, the scent of sugar and spice teasing my nostrils.

“This is incredible. I feel like my little tasting box I shared with you didn’t compare. ”

“It was delicious. The chocolate cherry cookies and the éclairs are my favorite.” He motions to an éclair station, where a collection of small and large pastries rest on a plate. “You almost have to just taste everything.”

I don’t even hesitate. I pick up a small gooey éclair and sink my teeth into the sweetness. “Hmmm. Wow. That is magic, the right kind of magic.”

“Many believe her recipes are untouchable.”

“I think she wins. They are.”

We move around the table, each of us testing and tasting, and I decide the chocolate cherry cookie is the best thing I’ve ever tasted, next to the eclair.

Of course, Naomi’s treats connect me to my mother and can never be replaced, but Freya’s are true delights.

Each of us finish our tasting by filling plates with savory croissants filled with cheese and meat.

We sink into chairs at the end of the table, huddled together as we sip a rich beaned coffee, and nibble on our food.

“Thank you for this,” I say, and I’m not talking about the sweets, not solely at least, “all of it,” I add to be clear, “including the part where we made sure I met those closest to you. I like them. I think you knew I would.”

“I thought you would. I’m glad you did.”

I think of my father’s inner circle and I don’t feel the same loyalty in them as I see in Toren’s men and I wonder if Toren knows this. I suspect he does. I don’t actually think Toren does much without a purpose. “What’s Gideon and Tabby’s story? And how can they blink?”

“They’re brother and sister, and from an ancient vampire lineage.”

“That explains so much. They fight like siblings.”

“Tell me about it. They make me crazy sometimes, but they would do anything for each other, too. Their father died in the war and was the marshall of our army. Stefan was his second-in-command as Gideon is to him now. As for the skill of blinking, it’s common among vampires, but I think gale history suppresses that fact to try to downplay our threat. ”

The way gales are kept in the dark concerns and confuses me. “I don’t even know what to say to that right now,” I say, “so I’ll change the topic. Stefan being half fae was unexpected.”

“Stefan is exactly why I knew those closest to me wouldn’t immediately see you as an enemy.”

“They were really quite nice. How did your father feel about the other races?”

“He ruled at a time when we were a more violent race, but it was him who saw the dangers of their ways. Over time, he reigned in the vampires, created civility. Once that was achieved, he demanded peace, and he was never a part of provocations toward other worlds. He believed the best way to achieve that was to become home to the greatest warriors in existence. And I believe to this day, we bear that distinction.”

“Did he and my father get along?”

“Never.”

“Why?”

“Your father pined to rule us all long before the civil war broke out, and frankly, I know your father celebrated my father’s death.”

My heart sputters with this news. How deep is the divide between our worlds, between us? Did my father kill his father?