Page 45 of The Crimson Princess (The Ravengale Chronicles #1)

Chapter thirty-one

I walk into the castle to find Mikhail on guard just inside the foyer. “How did you become a doorman?”

“There seems to be a need for heightened control over who enters,” he explains. “Your father doesn’t trust anyone but me to screen visitors.”

The only one my father trusts, and yet Toren is surrounded by loyal friends. Toren was right. My father thinks the book is all that matters. It’s as if it enchanted him in some way. As if Crya enchanted him and I think maybe that’s exactly the truth.

“He’s been asking for you,” he adds. “He’s in the gardens.”

“Who else is with him?”

“No one at present. Idris was here to update him on the werewolf extermination operation last night but left looking rather, shall we say, tense .”

Aren’t we all after talking to my father?

“Thanks, Mikhail,” I say, and head to the gardens, nervous as heck over my father potentially knowing I’m not only part vampire, but that Toren’s blood fills my veins.

Can he sense it? Smell it? I really don’t know what he’s capable of at this point. I really don’t know him at all.

The table comes into view and I find my father eating a plate of sweet bread quite heartily. He reaches for his coffee cup, and pauses, his eyes lifting on my approach. He sets the cup down. “Where have you been?”

“Hunting. That’s what I do.” At this point I’ve closed the space between us and claim the seat to his left .

His eyes narrow on me and I will my heart to remain steady, for fear he will know otherwise. “Why do you seem different?”

He might as well have just punched me in the chest, but I’m ready for this. I expected this. “How would you know what is different about me after a night of hunting? You don’t know me at all.”

He grits his teeth as if I’ve hit a nerve and picks up his fork. “Do you want a plate?”

Relief washes over me at his change of topic, but I need some distance from him. Now. “I need rest more than food. The werewolves are spread throughout the villages to the east of the forest. I took out a nest in Essex. We’ll need to send in teams to handle the rest.”

“Idris will handle it.”

“Good. I’ll let him.”

“ Let him ?” His brow inches upward. “ You will let him?”

“Yes. I will let him.” And on that note, I think it’s my turn to grit my teeth. Running out of here just to get away from him isn’t a luxury I have at present. “I know there are things going on that make you feel you must join with the druids, but—”

“No but. It’s done. I am one with the Book of Life. We will not cede power to the druids.”

“And yet, we invited Toren to the Challenge. Why? To defeat his brother if he shows up?”

My father sets his fork down. “Who told you that?”

“I’m my mother’s daughter. I watch. I learn. I see. It’s pretty obvious.”

“If his brother shows up, we’ll kill them both and be done with those bottom feeders forever.”

Exactly what Toren thought. “The druids just want the book. They will use you and me to get to it.”

“Keep the prince so well pleasured he doesn’t want to betray us.”

Just that easily, I’m seething. “So I’m your whore now? I told you I will not marry him. And we both know you’re worried about the portal on Challenge Day. I’ll act loved up with Bellar until then. After that, you better have a new plan.”

“You marry him or you lose your crown.”

The threat hurts despite it being expected. “If I marry him, I will lose my crown. I don’t have anything to lose, now do I?”

“Check yourself.”

“You’re afraid of Toren,” I say softly, leaning in closer.

“I can read you. I can read the fear. It’s like a stench and it’s driving you to make a wrong decision.

If Toren wanted your crown and the book, I’d read that from him, too, but I don’t.

I read it from Bellar. Rethink your next move or I predict Ravengale will be lost forever.

” I push to my feet. “Just to repeat and be clear. I’ll play nice with Bellar at the party tonight and at the Challenge.

After that my whore duties are over.” I turn to walk away, and he captures me in his magic, refusing to let me walk away.

In utter frustration, I rotate to face him. “Is that necessary?”

“Just reminding you who’s in charge.”

“I am well aware of your role as my king.”

“And your father.”

He hits so many nerves with that response, that he destroys any filter I might still possess after losing my mother and feeling as if I’m about to lose my entire world, quite literally.

“I’m sure you have plenty of bastard children who can fill my seat.

The problem for you is will the gales accept them as their future leader? ”

“I don’t plan on dying anytime soon.”

“No one ever does. Your queen certainly did not.”

He pushes to his feet, a scowl etched in his brow. “You’re acting like a brat.”

“You’re acting like the kind of dictator that gets overthrown.”

His scowl transforms to anger, a stormy rage rippling across his features. “Are you threatening me?”

“How would a lowly young princess threaten an ancient powerful king such as yourself?”

“You will do what is right for Ravengale. Say it or you will stand there until you do. ”

As if what is right for Ravengale means I will do what he dictates. I no longer believe that and I doubt he does, either. “I will do what is right for Ravengale.”

He releases me and says, “Play nice with the druid. It’s what’s best for your gales.

Or not. It’s been a long time since I enjoyed a good war, and with the blood on your hands I’ll have nothing to fret about, now will I?

Bellar will be here at six to escort you to the event tonight.

” He waves me away. “Go rest. I need to finish my breakfast.” He sits down.

It’s all I can do not to launch myself at him, but I hold myself in check.

I turn and walk away and only when I’m out of his view do I blink to my room where I begin to pace.

I don’t know if I reach out to Toren or not.

What good does telling him how unreasonable my father is right now?

He knows as much. He told me as much. If I can’t control my father, I need a way to control the druids.

Which is exactly why my father wants me to whore myself out to Bellar, but do we really think me getting naked with the druid prince lowers his desire for power?

I do not. All it does is make him believe he’s closer to it, and the book.

But of course, my father knows this. He simply doesn’t fear the druids.

He fears Toren. The book, Crya, has ensured he starts a war.

With Toren.

My dress for the Laudation is an emerald floor length gown of luxurious silk.

It is as elegant as it is feminine, hugging my curves in all the right places, reminding everyone I’m not the little girl I was when I left for the Earth realm.

My brown hair flows around my shoulders, one stunning emerald holding the front away from my face and decorating the back of my head.

I hope that I present as a future queen.

I cannot be a little girl and earn respect.

Of course, I will lose every drop I earn when the gales see me with Bellar.

Once I’m fully ready, I sit on the bed and do what I have wanted to do all day. I reach for Toren’s mind.

Toren?

He doesn’t answer.

I try again. Toren?

Still no answer.

He’s not here. I can feel the emptiness between us. He’s not in my mind. He’s not in my world. He must be in Bloodstone, and our connection, I assume, can’t reach beyond the same realm. And it feels wrong. What if he’s hurt? Or dead?

Why isn’t he here? Is he not attending the Laudation?

I need to stop. Now. Toren will be in Bloodstone for centuries to come and I will be here.

He is not my future. I am not his. I’m just working myself up over the potential of war.

That’s all this is. He’s lived a thousand years.

He’s fine, but if war erupts there’s no turning back.

I yank my dress up to my thigh, and lex a holster to my leg before I slide my blade inside.

If a battle is coming, I’m not being caught unarmed. I will be ready.

Letting my dress slide back into place, I head for the door and once I’m in the foyer of the castle, I find my father and Bellar waiting on me, both in their formal royal uniforms. There was a time when my father would not think a druid uniform belonged inside our castle walls. Oh how times have changed.

Bellar’s eyes rake over me with far too much lust for my liking, and when I draw nearer to him and he offers me his arm, I want to offer him my knee.

The knee is a universal way to hurt males of all races.

Proper knee usage was one of the first things my mother taught me.

Fighting my survival instincts, I accept his arm, and soon we’re loaded into a limo, me squished between my father and Bellar, and I do not allow my leg to press to that of the druid prince, despite my father’s scathing look of disapproval.

Mikhail sits across from us and his eyes glow with disapproval for Bellar.

Why won’t my father listen to his closest friend?

But then, perhaps he’d have to share his fears with Mikhail at that point, and my father would never do such a thing.

Our destination is the arena which is set-up as a gala of sorts for this evening.

Among the guests will be the competitors, their families, the council, and select invitation-only guests.

The limo pulls to our private entrance and Idris is there waiting, and when he sees me link arms with Bellar, his expression is unchanging, but I can feel his disgust. It’s what all of the gales will feel, and I’m shocked my father really wants this.