The Crown Prince of New Ve. As if anyone could forget, he wears the reminder of it on his head, a silver circlet that shines in the moonlight. Henry would be handsome, with his golden hair and amber eyes, were it not for the cruelty that lives in his smile. No one could truly look at Henry Travesty and mistake him for the angel he appears to be at first glance.
He also has the misfortune of being both a vampire and a blood fetishist. A fact that, while not public knowledge, is whispered about in the shadowed corners of clubs or behind wine glasses at formal dinners.
“You have the eyes of a trueblood, and yet, you look at me with the fear of a mortal,” Henry murmurs. His warm breath tickles my right earlobe and his musky aftershave invades my senses. He’s too close, I think. Suddenly, I know that if I don’t tell Henry who I am, he’ll kill me.
With trembling fingers, I take off the mask and meet his gaze.
But Henry doesn’t look surprised. He just stares down at me with a pensive expression. Worried someone will see my face, I put the mask back in place.
“When I heard of your Awakening, I felt true pity for you,” my brother says, his tone light, as if we’re talking about party favors or the buffet table. “To be a human being is to be fallible, mortal, an animal which feels pleasure or pain depending upon its circumstance and on the influence of others. What a genuinely bad stroke of luck, to have a whore for a mother.”
Before I can respond, Henry seizes my arm, and in the next moment we’re walking farther away from the mansion. He must be taking me toward the swimming pool—that or the tennis courts. I think about screaming, calling out for help, but that would inevitably result in the removal of my mask as the drama unfolded. Henry wouldn’t hurt you at a party the Vampire King is hosting, I tell myself. All of his children, especially the heir, know how much Alexander detests what he calls ‘vulgar behavior’.
The Crown Prince doesn’t say a word, but he keeps turning around and smiling. I begin to take my mask off again. “Leave it on,” he growls suddenly, his countenance darkening.
I freeze, there in the middle of the sidewalk, and stop breathing. “Why?”
Henry tilts his head, blinking at me, as though the answer is so obvious. His hand slides off my arm. “Because it’s more fun this way, silly thing.”
“I b-better get back to the party. My date will be looking for me.”
“Would you like to conduct an experiment with me, dear sister?” he questions suddenly. Mute with terror, I can only shake my head. Henry makes a disappointed sound. “Don’t be so boring, Charlotte—I kill boring people. Now, I’ll ask you one more time, all right? But you better get the answer right, or who knows what I might do. Would you like to conduct an experiment with me?”
“Sure,” I manage, knowing he can hear the thunder in my chest.
“Wonderful!” Henry rewards this with a dazzling smile. He reaches into his pocket and there’s a tinkling sound, like wine glasses touching. When his hand reemerges, there’s a vial in his palm. It’s much like the ones the Vampire King’s wives wear. This, too, holds blood, and it trembles within the glass as Henry shakes it in my face. “The experiment is this—what kind of an effect would vampire blood have on a Lavender? Perhaps your own vampiric blood will negate the results… or perhaps something interesting will happen. Let’s see, shall we?”
“Why do you have that?” I ask without thinking.
Henry acts as though I haven’t spoken, and he pops the lid off with the ball of his thumb. I stare at the vial, my thoughts racing toward a singular, inevitable conclusion. Henry would have no use for vampire venom, since only females wear the vials, and he can’t get high off it himself. And judging from the sounds in his pocket, he’s carrying more than one.
Stupidly, I hear myself whisper, “You’re the traitor. You’re the one putting vampire venom on the streets.”
I have Henry’s attention now. “Well, I’m not personally putting it on the streets—I have slaves for that. But now, I’m afraid, I truly do have to kill you.”
“But why?” I whisper, fear making it harder to speak. “You don’t need the money.”
Henry sighs. “I’ll tell you for two reasons. One, because this party is a bore, and I have nothing else to do. Two, because you are my sister, so I feel as though I owe you something before I end your life. My reason is simple, really—I want the throne. Now. I’m tired of our father’s rules and restraints. I loathe his vision of ‘utopia’. We are vampire, Charlotte. We may as well be gods. Which means I should be able to kill who I want, when I want, in whatever way I want.
“Reports had begun trickling in, months ago, about weepers killing our citizens. I knew it was only a matter of time before they got angry. And how better to stoke the flames? Add a little gasoline to the fire? Speed the process along?”
I swallow and whisper, “Venom.”
Less than a second after I speak, Henry’s hand moves faster than even I can track, and within the same breath, he jams one of his vials into my mouth. I feel the glass hit my teeth and feel an instant of jarring pain, then the blood is pouring down my throat. I smack the vial away, sending it clinking across the tiles, but it’s too late.
Henry watches expressionlessly as I wobble on my feet and try to run, except the world is changing and my legs stop working correctly. The edges and outlines around me—leaves, hedges, walls—are now blurs. The sky becomes the ground. I start to crawl, gasping, and I’m dimly aware of Henry’s voice floating past. Squinting, I turn around and find the blur that should be his face. As I go still, the words pouring from his mouth start to have meaning again. “Don’t die. I haven’t killed you yet!” he calls.
The stars are everywhere. Euphoria creeps through my mind like a slant of moonlight. I struggle against it, knowing there’s a reason to be afraid, to feel urgency.
I’m reminded of it a moment later, when Henry’s fingers tangle in my hair. I dig my heels into the ground, but I’m too weak to kick or scream. The euphoria is already gone, replaced by a blinding terror. He drags me even farther down the path, away from the mansion, out of everyone’s sight. Within seconds, hedges appear on either side. Panic grips my throat. Why can’t I speak? Why can’t I fight back?
Suddenly, the smell of chlorine assails my senses. The pool house. I hear water, then, a sound I normally find soothing. At the edge of the pool, Henry finally releases me. “What—” I start, but my tongue fumbles around the word.
With efficient movements, Henry finds the zipper at the back of my dress with his other hand and pulls it down. Baring skin, I realize faintly. Readying me for pain. But I’m your sister, I try to say, still trying to drag myself away. Nothing comes out. As the Crown Prince rests his knees on either side of me and works to tug the dress completely off, I pat the tiles, hoping to find something to use as a weapon. Henry grabs my arm and slams it down so hard that I cry out. Using my other arm, I bring my fist up and smash it against the side of Henry’s skull. With a guttural, enraged shout, he throws me against the brick wall.
A second after I hit the ground, and a kaleidoscope of pain goes swirling through me, a new voice speaks before Henry can. “Kindly take your hands off my slave, Your Highness.”