Page 14 of Hot Vampire Next Door: Season Five

“I did,” he answers.

“Did you like it?”

The path curves back in toward the center of the courtyard where steps lead up to a half-moon terrace that looks over the reflection pond.

“I did.”

“Can you say more than, ‘I did’?”

“I can.”

I catch the barest hint of a smirk on his face.

Is my brother amused by me?

I want us to get along. I want to joke with him and confide in him and…

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Jessie.

The sadness I feel now knowing I missed out on having a brother for the first twenty-plus years of my life will pale in comparison to being outright rejected by him in the future.

When we come up on the landing, I spot a large, arched doorway hidden in the shadows of another upper terrace. The doors are thrown open and inside, banners hang from the vaulted ceiling, but the fabric is limp in the still air.

We go in, everyone bowing and gaping and whispering as we pass.

I want to gape and gawk at all the sights—I’m in the fae realm! In the Summer Court!—but I pretend I’m indifferent. I don’t want to be the stupid fae girl raised by mortals, shocked by the very sight of a palace.

The hallway leads us deeper inside, but domes of glass above us cast hazy light throughout the space making it feel warm and cozy and bright.

When the hallway ends, we’re deposited into a large circular room with a high ceiling with hand-carved arched beams that remind me of European abbeys. There’s a gurgling fountain in the middle of the room and hanging above it, a giant chandelier with crystals that wink in the light.

And directly across from us, past the fountain, is a raised dais where the queen sits on her throne.

There is a crowd here. They’ve clearly been expecting us. There’s no mistaking the buzzing energy here is different than the buzzing I felt in my legs. This is excitement, apprehension, a hunger for drama.

“Bring her here.” The queen’s voice rings out, echoing around the room.

“Of course, Mother.” Maven takes my hand and I can’t help but look back at Arion, begging him to help me.

But he’s powerless here. I’m seeing that now. His mother betrayed the courts. His mother was a traitor.

He’s no prince.

Maven drags me across the room, skirting around the fountain, then up the three marble steps to the expansive dais.

The air is cooler here, thank god, and the wet basement smell is gone, but I can tell they’ve had to work hard at that, overwhelming the throne room with florals. It’s like a perfume counter in a department store after a someone sampled every scent under the sun.

My nose itches.

The queen rises from her throne. I try not to look directly at her, but it’s hard not to gape at a queen. Even one who probably wants you dead.

Her steps are silent as she comes nearer, the long, silky train of her dress dragging behind her.

She’s flanked by two other women—one with bright blue eyes and milky skin, the other with dark green hair and darker skin. Both are wearing swords at their hips and armor that reflects the light.

Silence descends over the room, but it’s hard to hear it over the loud thumping of my heart in my ears.

What happens now? Am I supposed to bow? Curtsy?

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