I pry my gaze from Alaric and look at Lawrence from the corner of my eye. I’m embarrassed that it has taken this moment for me to learn the truth.
Lawrence’s expression changes, taking me in as though seeing me for the first time. His features soften to something akin to kindness. I swallow thickly. That can’t be right—he hates me.
“Who did you think he was?” he asks under his breath.
Alaric stands and walks up the dais and into the open arms of the queen. She wraps herself around him. He doesn’t return the embrace, but he doesn’t fight it. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest.
“I… I don’t know. I suppose I thought he was just a vampire,” I say. I probably shouldn’t admit anything to him, but I don’t think he’s asking out of malice or trickery.
“Just a vampire?” he scoffs.
I cringe.
He shakes his head, genuinely shocked that I never had a clue—as if who and what Alaric is was common knowledge among humans.
As the queen releases Alaric, the crowd resumes movement and sound. Conversations pick up, but the path leading to the queen remains clear.
“You had no idea he was the first of Elizabeth’s creations and the most powerful of us all and fated to be the vampire queen’s consort? You didn’t want him for his money or the things he could do for you?”
His questions rip the air from my lungs—painful realizations. My face heats with every word that comes out of his mouth because I naively believed everything was simple. I believed Alaric was an ordinary man.
“How could I?” I ask, voice cracking. “I’ve never seen him until he claimed me.”
He looks at me for a single heartbeat then throws his head back and lets out a sharp laugh. I cross my arms and wait for him to finish.
“Look,” I say, attempting to keep my temper in check. “I never wanted anything from him. Not his money, or that manor, or…” I trail off shaking my head, feeling foolish. I wrap my arms around my middle. Then in a small voice, I add, “I still don’t want anything of his.”
“Then what is it you do want?” he asks.
Then I understand. When he questioned me about where I would want to be if I could choose, his cold demeanor, trying to scare me off in the library the day he arrived at the manor, and all the accusations that I might want what Alaric has… Lawrence was worried about my intentions. He must be a good friend to worry for Alaric like that. Even from someone with such a limited lifespan, such limited strength… someone powerless.
“I want—” I shake my head. “I don’t want anything,” I say.
Lawrence’s eyes narrow on me.
I only want him.
I don’t dare speak the words aloud. How can I admit that to Lawrence when I haven’t even admitted it to Alaric, let alone to myself?
I can’t.
It would only complicate things, but knowing that doesn’t stop the words from building and bubbling up to the surface. I lo—
I close my eyes for a brief moment and push the thoughts back down, locking them away.
The rest of our conversation dies on the air as Cassius pushes off the wall, clearing his throat. He moves across the floor toward the queen. Lawrence grabs my arm and drags me along.
The queen and Alaric descend the steps of the dais and walk toward us. He avoids looking at me as if I don’t exist, but I can’t help but frown at her arm linked with his.
Our two groups meet in the center of the room. The crowd closes in behind us but spreads out, giving us privacy.
I study Alaric’s face.
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.
A prince… 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.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” My words are sharp and cutting.