Page 43 of Their Blood Queen

“Rough night, my king?” he asks as he tilts his head with a birdlike gesture.

He’s a Raven, a creature that lurks in the shadows and is known for its stealth. His human form has fluffy, jet-black hair and eyes as dark as pitch, and his face has symmetrically sharp features. Helia has asked to borrow him multiple times, but I’ve always refused.

Bernard is not a pet. He’s my friend.

Which is why he’s comfortable enough to observe that I’m on edge.

“On the contrary. I had an eventful night that was quite enjoyable,” I say as I lean back and grab my sweating drink. It has created a ring of moisture on the neglected paperwork it was sitting on. I have trouble caring about what it might have damaged. I take a swig, almost unaffected by the spike of alcohol that humans seem to enjoy, but this one has a fruity flavor I requested the kitchens to add.

Peaches.

I shouldn’t be this obsessed… but after tasting the flavor between her legs, Scarlett Nightingale has become an all-consuming desire that haunts my waking hours, and if a Dream Eater can dream, she’ll be mine.

“She is the key.”

Those words roll over and over in my head in Edward Rinhold’s voice.

The overconfident human seems to know a lot about her. Perhaps more than he should, which has drawn my attention.

“Then why do you look like you’re about to eat another village?” Bernard asks, placing the stack of new envelopes in the incoming mail tray, which is already overflowing.

I glower at him. “Careful, Bernard. I’m in no mood.”

He’s a good friend. He’s warning me that he can see my monster threatening to take control. The last time I let him out, too many people died.

I promised that wouldn’t happen again.

Humans are a rare and precious commodity. Even if some might need to die to keep the entire train from careening off the tracks, a massacre wouldn’t help anyone.

And contrary to popular belief, I am not evil. I regret that sort of bloodshed at my hands.

But no matter how hard I try to play nice, at the end of the night, I’m still a powerful monster without a mate or a mate-circle to keep me grounded.

I’m dangerous, and I need to do something about that.

Bernard sighs, then digs through the pile and slaps a blood-red envelope onto the desk. “Then maybe you should accept this invitation, my lord. I was going to suggest otherwise, but I think a fête might do you some good.”

Arching an eyebrow, I take the envelope and slit one of my extended claws through it. My monster insists on bleeding through my body, so I don’t even try to hide the fact that one of my hands has changed.

My eyes widen when I read the invitation. “A Choosing fête at the Rinhold residence?” I ask, then glance up at the Raven who has eyes everywhere. “You know exactly who’s going to be there, don’t you, Bernard?”

He grins, showing off sharp teeth. His black tongue flicks out when he talks. “I wouldn’t be a very good Raven if I didn’t pick up on the fact that you’ve found a compatible mate, my lord. She’s going to be there.”

“At her courtship entrance,” I clarify. “Under a contract written in my blood.”

Bernard shrugs one shoulder, betraying that he already knew all of that information. “I’m sure you’ll find a way around those details. Plus, maybe you can solve a little riddle for me while you’re there.”

Now my Raven has my attention. “A riddle?”

He clicks his black tongue. “Yes, Sire. There’s one thing I can’t seem to figure out, and it has to do with this new red-haired bride everyone suddenly seems to be so interested in.” His dark eyes glitter as I silently wait for him to continue. Bernard delights in dragging out the suspense. He’s incredibly smart, and at the same time, infuriatingly calculating. “There’s something different about her. I just can’t place my feathers on what that something might be.”

Indeed, I noticed that right away.

“She’s from a village,” I say, then add, “but you knew that already.”

His head flicks to the other side in that distinctly birdlike gesture. “I did.”

So he wasn’t necessarily talking about her genetic makeup.

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