Page 5 of The Vampire Court

A prince…

And he’s fated to be with the vampire queen—to be with this unearthly woman standing among us.

It’s hard to believe. Not because I think it’s impossible, but because he looks every inch the part in the way he holds himself and I never noticed before. He knew it and never saw fit to tell me.

I feel as though I don’t know him. Have I ever known him? If he hid this from me, what else is he hiding? It stings. He didn’t trust me enough over the past three days and nights alone in the carriage to tell me this. He had to have known that I would find out once we reached Nightwich.

“Cassius, Lawrence, I am glad to see you both here as well,” the queen croons. Her voice is saccharine sweet and dripping with false joy. “I don’t see Victor. Where is he?”

There’s something dangerous in the way she asks the question, and her voice sends a shiver down my spine.

My stomach knots, and I’m grateful she has chosen to ignore my existence.

Lawrence pales, but before he or Cassius can speak, Alaric waves a hand dismissively and says, “Elizabeth, my queen.”

She smiles at the way he says her name and title.

“We have traveled a long way over the past few days. I am tired, and there is no reason we cannot discuss these things another time.”

She looks as though she might refuse, but when Alaric gives her a sultry smile, Elizabeth returns the look, victory glinting in her eyes.

“Very well,” she says, reaching her arms up around his neck.

Cassius grabs my arm and spins me around, leading me away. Lawrence follows closely, blocking my view of them, but not before I see the queen place a kiss on his mouth.

The second we leave the throne room, I jerk my arm out of Cassius’s grip. My breath hitches. They all knew what we were walking into, but no one warned me about any of it.

I walk over to a window on the far side of the hall and rest my forehead against the chilled glass. The outside view looks inward to the palace grounds. I grip the ledge and focus on my breathing. A slimy feeling blooms inside me. I hate how it feels. It’s ugly, dark, and twisted.

I feel betrayed. I feel lied to, and—

I swallow down the thought, not ready to face it. I focus on the anger and hurt, holding on to them and willing them to grow until they drown out anything else.

Soft footfalls sound behind me. Alaric’s hand lands softly on my shoulder but I don’t turn to face him. If I do, I’ll give in to whatever comfort and accept any reason he might give for what happened.

“Come, Clara.” His hand slides down my arm to take my hand.

I don’t fight or resist as he leads me down through the halls. I’m too angry with him to pay attention to my surroundings as we meander toward his room.

The queen kissed him. Not a chaste kiss on each cheek, but on the mouth. I could brush it off if she had greeted Cassius and Lawrence in the same manner, but she didn’t.

I sneak a glance at Alaric, but nothing in his expression gives away his thoughts.

We climb two flights of stairs before we reach a landing and continue walking until we reach the only door halfway down the hall.

Alaric drops my hand and places his on my lower back, guiding me inside. I walk a few paces into the room and stop, focusing my unseeing gaze on the floor.

Aprince… fated to be the queen’s consort.

The door closes with a soft click.

“Clara?”

I don’t respond.

Alaric turns me around and cups my face, tilting my head up and forcing me to look him in the eye.

I push away, and he lets go. I stumble back a few steps before catching myself. Warm pressure builds behind my eyes, blurring my vision. I blink, and hot, angry tears slide down my face.