Page 73 of How to Dump a Vampire

I look around the room to see who the king could be demanding and find to my horror that his finger is pointing directly at me.

I don’t even have time to curse before vampires encircle me, their eyes glinting with malice—and is that excitement? In another life, I might have found it flattering to command such attention. Now, it is about as welcome as a swarm of bees at a picnic.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath, taking a discreet step back as my fingers twitch toward the hidden dagger strapped to my thigh. “Party’s over, Thorn.”

The vampires close in, their gazes cold and calculating. I tense, ready to fight, but a firm hand grips my elbow.

“No need for trouble, my dear,” the vampire from earlier says. “His Majesty simply requests an audience.”

I doubt that highly but allow him to steer me through the parted crowd toward the throne. All around, whisperings break out like hissing fires.

“Vivian,” the king purrs as we approach, his tone deceptively warm. “What a delightful surprise.”

His calculating eyes say otherwise. They rake over me, searching for cracks in my disguise.

“The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty,” I reply, dipping into a curtsy, “although I’m afraid you have me confused with someone else. My name is—“

“Do not play coy with me, witch,” he snap, cold fury blazing through the glamour. “I know precisely who you are. I was suspicious when my son brought you back. How you dug your claws into him, I will never know, but it’s so good to see you alive.”

Before I can react, he makes a sharp motion with his fingers. My illusion peels away in wisps of glowing magic, leaving me exposed. Gasps echo around us. The king’s smile holds all the warmth of a dagger’s edge.

“Vivian,” he purrs again, savoring my true name. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize a traitor in my own court?”

My heart stutter. I glance desperately for Draven but find only enemies. Their hungry eyes tell me my fate has already been decided.

I take a deep breath to steady my nerves. “Your Majesty is mistaken. My name is Thorn, not Vivian.”

The king’s eyes narrows. “Do not play games with me, witch. I know exactly who you are and why you have returned.” His voice drips with contempt.

“I speak the truth,” I insist. “Vivian was a name I once went by, before I was forced to flee this court under false accusations.”

Murmurs ripple through the crowd.

The king raises a hand to silence them. “False accusations, you say? You were caught red-handed stealing forbidden texts from the royal library, texts containing powerful blood magic, which you intended to use against me.”

“That’s not true!” I cry. “I discovered a plot—your plot—to slaughter innocents in a bid to expand your power. I had to run for my life when you marked me as a traitor for uncovering your deceit.”

Gasps echo around the hall.

The king’s face contorts in rage. “Lies! I would never harm my people. Do not listen to this witch’s poisonous words. She is clearly mad and deludes herself with fantasies.”

I shake my head sadly. “I speak only the truth. The people deserve to know howyou’ve betrayed them.”

The king rises from his throne, magic crackling around him. “Enough! I will hear no more of these outrageous fabrications. Guards, seize her!”

As vampires close in, I prepare to make my stand, praying Draven will fight by my side. The battle for the truth has only just begun.

“Touch her and you die!” comes Draven’s sharp command from somewhere behind me.

His presence is a torch in the dark, the silent promise that I’m not alone in this twisted dance, but I can’t focus on that. Not now.

“Sorry, boys,” I say with a grin that feels more like a snarl, “but I don’t do well with cages.”

The first vampire lunges, more shadow than substance, but I’m ready. Instinct and adrenaline are a potent brew, fueling my defiance. I pivot, ducking low as the room becomes a blur of motion.

“Guess it’s time to fight fire with fire,” I whisper to myself, summoning the magic that simmers in my veins, feeling it coil like a spring—or a serpent—waiting to strike.

I feel their hesitation, the vampires recoiling as if Draven’s words are tangible things, strikes against their undead flesh, but I know it wouldn’t be enough,not with the king’s command ringing in their ears like a twisted benediction.

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