Page 37 of Their Blood Queen

It was just a dream, I tell myself, even though I can’t explain the cut.

Maybe it’s a strange side effect of the blood contract.

I can’t entertain the idea that it was something more—something real.

Because that would mean I’ve attracted the attention of a monster.

Of the King of the Elite City.

Cain doesn’t care about me.

No one does.

I let my dress drape back over me as I shuffle into bed.

The sheets are fluffy and undisturbed, but I can’t help feeling like I’m crawling into it for the second time tonight.

It doesn’t much matter, because I’ll be up in a few short hours, facing a real nightmare.

The one where I become a Lady of the Rinhold family.

And that’s a nightmare I won’t be able to wake up from.

CHAPTER 8

SCARLETT

The irritating clink of a spoon against delicate porcelain has me flinching in my seat.

“Have you been listening to a word I’ve said, Lady Scarlett?” my guest of today’s morning tea barks.

Duchess Rinhold doesn’t look amused that I haven’t been paying attention. She tilts her head, sending a cascade of her loose curls tumbling over her shoulder. Her hair is done up in the latest style, threaded with dozens of pearls and gems that boast the wealth of the Rinhold family. My own hair is laced with silver, but I have none of the embellishments, making me feel plain next to her.

Her corset is stuffed over a skirt made with layers of muslin and silk that frill around her petite form as she perches on the edge of her chair. She must be around my mother’s age, but she doesn’t have a single wrinkle on her face. Her golden hair is a crown of ringlets that seem to burst from the style pinning them down, making her look elegant and youthful. She has pale blue eyes that are startling more than striking, giving her a wide-eyed, alert appearance.

Or maybe that’s just the evidence of too much magic bleaching her irises. Women in the Magic Sector wear their magic just like they do perfumes or makeup—except this brand of indulgence seeps into the skin.

The biggest reason I’ve stayed away is that I’m aware of how addictive the expensive tonics can be.

I’m aware of the anti-aging properties of certain elixirs obtainable in the Magic Sector. It’s not quite immortality, but a woman like Duchess Rinhold can surely afford a bottle or two—as well as the supply needed to keep up with any ensuing addiction.

She’s watching me pensively, her perfectly shaped brows finally arching on one side when I don’t answer her.

I want to, but it’s difficult to focus every time my mind shifts back to the erotic dream I had last night.

I can’t stop thinking about it.

My palm falls to the spot just above my navel. The tiny wound still stings beneath my corset, and even though I can’t feel it through the boning, I can’t stop resting a hand on my stomach.

The blood had vanished by morning, making me wonder if I hallucinated the wound and the accompanying stain—but it still feels like there’s a cut on my skin.

Everything about the dream had felt real, leaving me aching in intimate places well into my waking hours.

I cross my legs to stem the throb that doesn’t seem to have completely gone away.

I’ve decided that I’ve finally snapped after so much pressure. That, combined with the side effects from a courtship blood contract, and my brain is just trying to make sense of things.

“Apologies, Duchess,” I eventually say with my smoothest, most elegant voice. My voice training comes in handy when I’m feeling flushed and laying on a thicker accent native to the city than I normally would. The dialect in the Magic Sector seems stronger on that front, anyway. “I’m afraid I’m feeling faint,” I tell her, and I know I’m convincing because it’s not a lie.

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