Page 12 of The Pureblood Princess
As the evening comes to a close and the guests of the house excuse themselves for their final evening, Nadia returns to her room and fetches the single piece of porcelain she brought along when leaving the Gray residence in the city. Looking down at it, the porcelain white with a chipped royal-blue flower, reminds Nadia of the morning Lord Gray dashed it to the floor, his eyes smoldering and his face ruddy with rage.
So much has changed since then, and the memories of that life almost feel like dreams now.
Nadia tucks the porcelain into a tiny cotton bag and touches up her hair in the mirror before departing her bedroom and heading for Lord Rosetti’s study. The corridors are quiet, apart from the laughter of the children in the drawing room, and Nadia is fortunate to not run into any of the Kazamirs on the way.
When she arrives at Lord Rosetti’s study, however, it is dark and empty. He must still be with the men, perhaps having another glass of port, so she enters his office and places the bag upon his desk. Leaving the way she came, she passes the closed library doors, and voices carry from within.
“Youbothagreed to this engagement, and I expect you to keep true to your word.”
Lord Kazamir’s raised voice causes Nadia’s footsteps to falter, and she pauses, staring straight ahead as she listens to what seems to be an argument.
“Now, Viktor,” Lord Rosetti says, his voice calm and smooth, “no one could have expected this to happen. You must understand—”
“No,youmust understand that a man does not go back on his word. It’s preposterous. You’ve broken the girl’s heart, Lord Rosetti.”
“As I’ve told you,” Theodore says, and the sound of his voice sends Nadia’s heart hammering, “I’m bonded now. This changes everything.”
Lord Kazamir laughs, though the sound is joyless. “Bonded? You expect me to believe this nonsense? Bonds are so rare as to be considered fiction. I’ll not have it, Niccolò. Your son and my daughter are to be married.”
His words send a knife spiraling into Nadia’s heart.
Theodore and Honora are to bemarried? How cou—
“I shan’t marry your daughter, Lord Kazamir. I’m engaged to Miss Magdalena, and I’ll not discuss the matter any further. Now, if there’s nothing else...”
Nadia has still not yet recovered from the shock when the library doors open and the men find her standing in the hall. She looks at each face—Lord Kazamir’s enflamed, Lord Rosetti’s shamefully surprised—but Theodore’s is the only one that matters. He softens at the sight of her, and Lord Rosetti sets a hand upon his shoulder before departing down the hall after Lord Kazamir, who storms off, grumbling all the way.
“Come,” Theodore says gently, gesturing for Nadia to step into the library.
Moving into the candlelit room, she casts her eyes about the grand space, and the door clicks closed quietly behind her. The air smells of dust and paper, and if not for the circumstances, she’d be most at ease here.
At first, Theodore says nothing. All at once, she feels alone in the spacious room, adrift in a sea in the dark of night.
He’s engaged . . . to Honora.
The thought makes her stomach turn, makes her nauseated.
Now Honora’s behavior makes sense: her venom at Nadia’s very existence, her never-ending attempts to seduce Theodore into her arms rather than Nadia’s. She was supposed to be his wife, not Nadia.
“I take it you overhead?” Theodore asks from behind her.
She nods without turning around, afraid of what her expression will betray. Instead, she focuses on a shelf on the opposite side of the room, attempting to keep tears from her eyes.
“I intended to tell you tonight. I apologize for not doing so sooner.”
There’s a globe upon the table, and Nadia spins it with the tips of her fingers. The glossy sphere gleams in the candlelight as it spins around and around, its whooshing revolutions the only sound in the silent room.
“How long?” Nadia whispers. “How long have you been engaged?”
Theodore’s sigh is soft. “It’s... unofficial. I was expected to propose this season, but I kept putting it off. I never wanted to marry her, Nadia. But she’s from a pureblood family, and...”
In his silence, she feels his unspoken words, remembers what Lord Rosetti taught her about clans and blood and vampire lineage:“There are not so many pureblood families as there used to be, and many would go to any lengths to protect their pedigree.”
“I understand,” she whispers, though hurt lingers in her heart despite the words on her lips.
There’s a whisper of air, a rustle of clothing, and then Theodore is standing before her, the candles in the candelabra flickering wildly with the speed of his passing. “You do?”
Though it pains her, she nods. “Your father taught me about the clans, the importance of keeping lines pure. It would make sense, then, that your families would arrange a marriage.”
