Page 53 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Four

Dozens of fae are dancing in the center of the room, some linked arm and arm, others twirling in and around each other.

And there are so many. More than I ever knew resided in Midnight. Possibly more than were reported on their census.

There are fae with deer horns and fae with ram horns. Fae with red eyes and pink hair and pointed ears. Fae that look human save for a slight upturn of their nose or a dusting of bright blue freckles along their cheeks. Everyone here is an adult though, not a kid in sight. I don’t see the Leaf family or the mother I helped on the riverside not that long ago, and I don’t see Stanley either. It’s unfortunate, because I really could have used a friendly, familiar face.

My slippered feet are just a soft whisper on the stone floor as I crane my neck, trying to take it all in. The sheer size of the great hall is astounding, like a football field, if a football field were enclosed by earth and tangled, blooming vines.

Hanging from the ceiling are pendants fashioned from thick vines with glowing orbs at the ends, the lights various shades of pink and gold.

Arion precedes us into the great room, his hands clasped behind his back.

I notice there are faded black tattoos along two of his fingers. Shapes and symbols I can’t decipher.

He’s wearing a dagger at his left hip, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s hiding another sheath beneath the sleeve of his royal blue tunic. I can just make out the faint line of the leather through the material.

Attention starts to wander to us. First because of Arion and then because of me.

Their eyes lock on the dull red stain covering my dress from chest to toe.

I swallow, sweat breaking out along my hairline.

When we reach the center of the room, the music fades out. The shuffling of the assembled fae echoes around us until they all bend to their knees.

Are they bowing for me or for Arion?

I suppose it doesn’t matter, because he isn’t bowing.

Bran comes up beside me. His shoulders are loose, his hands hanging by his sides, but I can read the tension in his body. Bran only likes supplication when it’s aimed at him. I don’t think it’s envy or jealousy. It’s worry and fear. Power means a target and at any moment, any one of these people could turn on me to test that power.

“We welcome the princess to our great hall,” Arion says, his voice booming across the domed space. He steps in front of me and walks the perimeter of the circle of bowed fae around us. “The princess has been apart from her people for too long and we are honored she would join us in our hollowed halls. Let us drink and rejoice tonight, the eve of the new moon.”

He turns back to me, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Let us show the princess what it truly means to be fae.”

A servant appears with a silver tray and three golden goblets set on top. Arion takes two and offers them to me and Bran. Bran takes the drink and sniffs it and I wait for his approval.

“We grew up with warnings not to drink or eat anything of the fae,” I say.

Arion grabs the third goblet and the servant scurries off. “I assure you, princess, the wine is safe for both fae and vampire.”

Bran eyes Arion over the rim of his goblet before taking a long gulp.

My heart thumps a little harder in my chest as I wait for any reaction. But Bran seems fine.

The assembled fae are still on their knees, but they’re heads are craned, watching, waiting.

I can’t very well snub them and the offering of their fae lord.

I take a drink.

The moment the fairy wine hits my tongue, I know I’ve made my first mistake.

The taste is delectable. Like the plumpest, juiciest, ripest strawberry, mixed with spices, mixed with a sharp tang of something that should be citrusy but is far more complex.

The wine goes straight to my head and then floods my body with warmth and ease.

I’m no longer worried and the fear fades away like the silhouette of someone I should be following but can’t.

Arion smiles at me.

---