Page 37 of Dhampira

So I didn’t open the door. Hours crawled by, and as shadows lengthened outside my windows, Alon’s face had floated in my mind, leaves tumbling through his glassy eyes as he stared at the trees above us. Suddenly the elegant riding habit had felt like a prison. I’d struggled with the buttons, my shoulders aching as I twisted and stretched before finally going to the vanity and craning my head over my shoulder to find them in the mirror. Freed of the habit at last, I’d curled up on the bed and let the tears come.

The balcony doors rattled, jerking me from my thoughts. A breeze swept into the chamber, swinging the doors wider. Rising, I went to the balcony and pulled them shut. For a moment, I stood with my hands on the latches, my gaze unfocused as the odd dream replayed in my mind.

Are you a tool or a blade?

My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since the morning’s hasty croissants. I was just tired and hungry. Guilt rose, and I swallowed against a suddenly thick throat. Exhaustion and hunger were privileges of the living. Alon would never feel either again.

Sweat cooled on my skin. Delphine’s elegant braid had unraveled, and now a thick black loop dangled over my shoulder. I fingered the curved lock of hair, other visions forming in my head. A pair of black eyes and a blood-stained mouth. Dark lashes and a bored expression.

My heart sped up, Rasimir’s declaration ringing in my ears. Under no circumstances was I marrying Prince Lorcan. If I did, I’d be trapped in Nocta. I had three months to figure out how to get across the Feyline and find my mother. But how? I had no allies in Rasimir’s court. Not anymore.

Vander’s silver eyes replaced Lorcan’s in my mind.

I can give you my word as a knight that I’ll protect you from harm. But I don’t expect you to believe me.

If only I’d listened. I’d probably never get another chance to speak to him alone—to ask why he’d put on such a convincing act when it would have been easier to simply knock me out and dump me at Rasimir’s feet. But other questions lingered, too. Why did he help me before the hunt? Why did Lorcan speak in my mind, warning me not to show compassion? He and Vander had seemed to work together before the hunt, as if they’d coordinated ahead of time. Was that what they’d spoken about in front of the maze?

A knock on the door made me jump.

“Princess?” a gruff male voice said. “The king requests your presence at the feast.”

I stood and faced the door. Request was undoubtedly a euphemism. Rasimir had sent his guards to bring me to the feast. I didn’t have to wonder how he’d react if I refused.

“The king doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” the man added.

Anger flared, along with a surge of fear. “I’ll just be a minute,” I called. Snatching the gown from the bed, I moved to the screen near the washstand and tossed the dress over the top of the wooden panels.

My hands shook as I poured water into the basin. I washed quickly, then ducked behind the screen with water still drying on my skin. Thank the gods, the gown had laces instead of the riding habit’s line of miniature buttons. Maybe Delphine had chosen it for that reason. Maybe she’d known she wouldn’t be around to attend me. Yet another mystery on top of the others I’d encountered since I’d entered Nocta.

I pushed the lady-in-waiting from my mind as I went to the mirror and unbraided my hair. With the guards at the door, even a simple style would take too long. But the braids had left it wavy, so I brushed it and tucked it behind my ears. My reflection in the mirror was pale, my eyes wide with worry. What would Mama do in my situation? The answer came immediately.

Nothing. She’d do nothing, because she never would have ended up in my situation. Forget sneaking out to find the dragonstone gown. She never would have spoken to Cyprio in the first place. Never touched the tiara.

Another knock rang out. “Princess?” the man outside prompted.

Nerves knotted my stomach as I went to the door. When I opened it, two guards filled the doorway, their jackets identical to the one Vander wore to the hunt.

“Take me to your captain,” I blurted.

The guards looked at each other.

“I’m Rasimir’s heir,” I said. Recalling the way my mother bargained with herb sellers at Derryton’s weekly farmers market, I raised my chin. “I could rule all of Nocta one day.” Inwardly, I kicked myself. Mama always urged me to be bold. Don’t say what you could do. If you mean to do something, say it plainly from the start. On the other hand, I didn’t want to rule Nocta. I wanted to escape it. Rasimir could have his twisted kingdom.

The men looked at me, then at each other.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. At any second they were going to seize me. They’d carry me directly to Rasimir, who would—

“This way,” the taller guard said. He and his companion turned and marched down the corridor. Disbelief dropped my jaw. Then I hefted my skirts and hurried after them.

The Drakhold’s rooms and corridors passed in a blur of light and luxury. Distant laughter and the chatter of a crowd drifted from somewhere. The noises faded as we made our way down one long passageway after another. The guards’ boots clicked against the marble, the synchronized beats driving my anxiety higher.

Finally, we paused outside a pair of glossy black doors. The taller guard rapped his knuckles on the wood and called, “Sir?”

“Come,” Vander’s muffled voice said from the other side. The guard opened the door and stepped back.

Princess or prisoner? I’d get nowhere acting like the latter. Squaring my shoulders, I swept inside.

A masculine study greeted me. Bookcases the same glossy black as the doors lined the walls. Candlelight illuminated the gold lettering on the spines of hundreds of books. Vander looked up from a big desk, surprise flaring in his silver eyes before he quickly concealed it.