Page 60 of Their Blood Queen

Hundreds of Elites are here, all in one place, dressed in their best finery for the occasion with a blood-red theme. I run my fingers over my lacy dress glimmering with reds and sapphire-black hues.

For once, I fit right in—had I been in the crowd. Now, peering over them from above, I feel like I sorely stand out.

They haven’t noticed me yet as I stay a few steps just out of immediate view, so I take a moment to gather my scrambled thoughts.

Is this my life now? I wonder as I try not to gape at the oversized ballroom filled with the Magic Sector’s most prominent and prestigious families.

Deciding to make my entrance alone now feels daunting—and possibly like a mistake.

I have no idea what I’m doing.

The ballroom spans out in a sea of extravagance and glittering jewels. My perch from the top of a gilded stairway lets me see just how many families want to impress the Rinholds. The Nightingale Village Day of the Choosing attracts perhaps four or five families to our meager ballroom. I doubt there will even be a fête this year without my mother being well enough to put it together.

My brother certainly won’t be of any help. He often travels off-site for Cain knows what, and my father goes in person to oversee the selections himself at the village multiple train stops away.

But Rinhold’s Choosing Day is quite the affair. I lose count after fifty as I take in the mingling crowd.

There has to be half of the Magic Sector’s upper echelon here tonight.

I have never seen most of the faces in clumps of embroidered silks and sparkling jewels. That makes sense. Even if I’ve been in the Magic Sector for two years, I’ve spent the majority of it behind the walls of the Nightingale estate or the rare outings outside while I hid underneath a parasol.

I can’t help but scan the crowd for my mother, even though I know she can’t have possibly improved enough to attend. She would have enjoyed this.

She might have even been proud of me. While she had not prepared me to take a husband, she had told me that I could always choose my own fate.

Is this what I choose for myself?

It seems like a better alternative to taking our chances with the culling.

But that’s next month’s problem. Today is Rinhold’s Choosing Day. Nightingale’s will be coming up soon, meaning my own family has many tasks to attend to in preparation.

Such as my father departing on the train to Nightingale Village just this morning. He gave me a kiss on my forehead as he said goodbye.

I can’t remember the last time my father had kissed me.

My brother had also disappeared, not onto a train but by carriage. He wouldn’t tell me where he was going, but there was mention of the Nightingale Compound among the servants. I know even less about the compound than I do the village.

The fact that Rosie wouldn’t tell me anything only made me more concerned.

Maybe things will be different as a Lady of the Rinhold family, I wonder.

Although, I feel incredibly unprepared for this courtship and all it might entail. Despite all of my training, my family only has so many connections here. Most families are incredibly private, so it can be difficult to obtain any documents with likenesses or information on those who wish to remain mysterious.

I have largely relied on rumor to navigate the new families I have encountered. But based on my interactions with Edward so far, I have reconsidered that method. Perhaps I need to reserve judgment based on my own experiences and not that of idle chatter likely born from a place of jealousy and disgruntled families unable to afford such extravagance.

Because this is no fête. This is positively lavish.

I no longer have the luxury of remaining frozen as trumpets sound. The blaring notes announce my appearance, and I instantly wish I were anywhere else.

Because the entire ballroom has fallen silent and all eyes turn to me.

“Announcing the arrival of the esteemed Lady Scarlett Nightingale, blood-betrothed to Earl Rinhold,” says the announcer I hadn’t seen emerge from his post. He’s wearing a velvety red suit with frilly black under layers. He gives me a low bow after the damning introduction.

A wave of shocked gasps sweeps through the room as the music comes to an abrupt stop. My heart jumps into my throat, and it feels as if my corset has constricted, cutting off my air.

Was our courtship not yet publicly announced?

The only moving object through the crowd is my so-called blood-betrothed, a term I’m familiar with, so it doesn’t surprise me. I dislike it immediately, though, because it makes the whole courtship period sound like a dispensable ceremony.

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