Page 4 of Vows Forged in Blood

“I cannot believe you’re wearing that.” Another voice had filtered through the stone, followed by a snort of a laugh.

“Have you met me?” This voice had a slight husk to it that made me slow my steps. It was…pleasing to my ears.

The first girl laughed lightly. “Ok, so Icanbelieve it, but still. You know damn well that most Potentials wearwhite…and far more modest dresses. It’s tradition.” Her voice was softer than the other girl’s, higher pitched but gentle.

“It’s fucking stupid is what it is.”

I blinked in surprise. I was honestly shocked a Potential even knew the wordfuck, let alone would say it so casually.

“Dahlia,” the girl hissed in a warning whisper, though there was amusement there as well.Dahlia. A pretty name, I supposed. The flower she was named after grows high in the mountains, near my camp. Some might say that this was a sign of sorts, but I didn’t believe in signs. At least, I didn’t when I was in that hallway…now, I’m not sure.

“What? You know as well as I do that I will never be picked, regardless of what I wear. We shouldn’t evenbehere, Enid.” I moved towards the voices, leaning my shoulder against the wall, imagining what might be happening on the other side of the stone. I knew that a small room had been partitioned off for each Potential Consort to dress and prepare in semi-privacy within the ballroom.

Why shouldn’t you be here?I wondered, despite myself. As if in answer, the girl—Dahlia—spoke again.

“I’m only here because Lord Burren hated his worthless son and left his entire fortune and title to da instead. We’re technically a noble family now, but in what world does a blacksmith’s daughterreallybelong here?”

My brows had flown up at that.A blacksmith?I wondered…but it couldn’t be…could it? I can admit that my interest was piqued, something strange simmering in my blood.

“That may be true, but wearenoble now. So, you could at least pretend to be a lady.”

“Again, I must ask: have youmetme?” Dahlia asked incredulously.

I’d barely stopped myself from laughing. Enid did laugh, seemingly despite herself.

“Alright, fair point.” I heard a rustle of fabric, and when she spoke again, she sounded closer to the other girl. “Mum would roll over in her grave if she could see you right now.”

“I think the dress would be theleastof her worries about me.”

“You mean like you in the stables with the Roland twins last week?” Another round of soft laughter, and, damn it, I couldn’t curb my curiosity. What in the devil’s name had she done in the stable with these Roland twins? And had she done whatever it was withbothof them?? For reasons I couldn’t fathom, I was entirely intrigued, and yet…bothered?

Enid sounded thoughtful when she’d said, “But ofallthe princes to be Choosing today andthisis the dress you wear…” Dahlia made a sound that was part groan, part sigh.

“I know. I know. But don’t read anything into it, Enid. You and your signs from the gods.” I could practically hear the girl rolling her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what dress I’m wearing, I won’t be considered for even a moment as a real option. They’re given dossiers on every Potential, you know. He’ll take one look at our family history and toss mine into the fire, I assure you. So, nothing to fret about.”

It was true that I’d been given information on each of the Potentials. Names, family lineage, any previous Consorts from the house, languages spoken, instruments played, special skills—none of which I gave two shits about. So, I hadn’t read any of the files. I honestly wasn’t sure how I was going to pick at that point. Perhaps I’d toss a pebble and whomever it hit was thewinner. Or loser, I supposed, depending on how one chose to look at it.

Enid didn’t sound convinced, giving a simple noncommittal “mmm” but chose to let the topic drop and move on to the more interesting one ofme.

“So, do you think he’ll come back from the war now that he’s choosing a Consort?”

“I don’t think so,” Dahlia had responded. “He’s a warrior. He won’t be content to be caged in some castle drinking blood-laced whisky or wine, having courtiers fawn over him and companions falling over themselves to get into his bed—well, perhaps he’d like that bit, actually. But he’s been free,” she added in a wistful sigh, “he couldn’t give that up any more than he could stop breathing, I’d bet.” I leaned away from the wall, stared at the stone as if I could see past it if I only concentrated hard enough, that I could see the girl on the other side. The girl who, somehow, had me dead to rights without ever meeting me. Leading my army, the thrill of battle, riding my warhorses over the rolling hills: itwasfreedom. A freedom I couldn’t imagine giving up. It was a part of me, as much as a limb. I could survive the loss of it, surely, but it would be a constant pain that I could never escape, knowing my men were out there fighting without me.

“Well, I’m sure his Consort will love being toted off to some war camp in the mountains instead of a lavish castle,” Enid added with a laugh.

“Oh gods, can you imagine Nicoletta Hargrave out in the Northlands, surrounded by an entire army of vampires? Do’ye think she would shite herself first? Or just die on the spot?”

The girls both laughed, and I felt the corner of my mouth curl upward, partly in amusement at her words and partly because of her accent. The brogue of the mountain lands to the east slipped through a bit thicker as she joked with Enid. I’d always likedthe sound of it, something a bit…wild and untamed associated with the lilting melody. The girl couldn’t live there, I knew, her accent not nearly thick enough for that to be the case, but perhaps her parents had. Many of my men were Rykhurst born, and hearing the brogue brought back memories of them sitting around campfires, drinking and telling tales, of comradery and friendship…and the bitter tang of loss as I remembered the ones that had been slain over the years.

I suppose it was then that I’d decided that she would be the one, but everything had shifted so completely when she’d entered the ballroom, any doubt or questions melting away like snow at the edge of winter. She was absolutely stunning, more beautiful than I could have imagined, and I watched raptly as she took her turn to be presented, walking down the center of the enormous room, shoulders back, despite her thundering heart giving away her nerves. Flaming red hair and startling green eyes, the color of jade. She was tall for a woman—though she would still probably only reach my chest, if that—and she was lithe and shapely, the material of her dress hugging her curves in a way that made me crave…things. Things I had no business craving, at least not from the likes of her, and things I promptly told myself tostop fucking thinking about.

But besides her beauty, I’d taken note of the quiet ferocity and strength about her. The other Consorts reminded me of the delicate petals of a flower, but Dahlia was like a rose: beautiful, but with thorns one should mind.

When she’d moved ever closer to the dais, I’d felt it. Like a small explosion in my chest, everything around me seemed to flare brighter for a moment, rocking me back on my heels. My entire world seemed to tilt and change its focus, now revolving solely around the girl before me. My heart thundered, my fangs shot long without thought, and my blood felt as it was boiling in my veins. At first, I had no idea what was happening, no ideawhy my body and soul seemed to be pulled to her, as if she were my sole purpose in life, as if she were the sun, as if?—

No, I’d thought, horrified by the possibility even as part of me reveled in it, soared with a joy I couldn’t explain.Keeva, my mind whispered in our ancient language.Mine.

No, no, no.I refused to accept the truth of what I’d felt, even as instincts flared to life, instincts I never thought I’d hear inside my mind. My entire being screamed at me, screamed things I didn’t want to hear. I forced my body into immobility, forced my mind to quiet. I would not obey these instincts. I would not accept this fate.

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