Page 11 of The Pureblood Princess
“Oh, dear,” Contessa says. “They’ve found us.”
In the distance, the four younger Rosetti siblings skip and run through the grass, peeling off their clothes as they go. Theodore isn’t with them, thankfully; Nadia isn’t sure she’d be able to keep from ogling him if he were to peel off his tunic and join them.
One by one, the children run down the dock and plunge into the water, their laughter bright and jubilant.
The six of them spend the afternoon swimming and sunning themselves on the dock, and it is perhaps one of the most carefree days Nadia has ever known.
Floating upon her back while Contessa and the children nap on the dock, Nadia holds her hand up, admiring the way the water rolls over the glistening band wrapped around her ring finger. A burst of love blossoms in her heart, and a single tear of joy streaks down her cheek and into the water holding her aloft.
He’s to be her husband, and she’s to be his wife.
Viscountess Nadia Rosetti.
Her lips curl into a smile.
It certainly has a nice ring to it.
Nadia spends the rest ofthe day with Lady Rosetti, Contessa, and the younger Rosettis, and she delights in learning more about each of them. Renzo, the third eldest, has a strong affinity for horses, and the fourth oldest, Giulia, speaks a number of languages as fluently as if they were her first. The youngest siblings, Luca and Francesca, seem absolutely taken with their eldest sister, and they refuse to leave Contessa’s side, even for a moment.
Theodore has been gone from the manor, out shooting with Lord Rosetti and the Kazamir men, but they’re due to return shortly. Only Charlie stayed back, claiming he needed rest aftertheir travel, but Nadia spied him reading and smoking a cigar on the veranda and wonders if perhaps he finds the Kazamirs as trying as she does. If he’s as lovely as Contessa claims, Nadia is sure they’ll become fast friends.
In these first days of autumn, the sun kisses the horizon earlier in the day, and the last rays of light illuminate the sky as Amélie finishes tying Nadia’s hair up in an elegant braided crown.
“Thank you,” Nadia says, turning her head left and right, admiring her lady’s maid’s handiwork in the mirror.
“Of course, miss. And congratulations on your engagement. I think you’ll be a beautiful bride.” Amélie’s cheeks redden, and the sight makes Nadia long suddenly for her blood. But she drank from her just this morning, and the puncture wounds still mar her sandy-brown skin.
So she turns quickly away, determined not to let her desires get the best of her.
“Is there anything else, miss?”
“No,” Nadia says, busying herself in the mirror and carefully avoiding Amélie’s gaze. “Enjoy your evening. I’ll prepare myself for bed tonight.”
“Are you sure? I—”
“I’m sure. We’ll have much work to do for the wedding, so you should enjoy yourself while you can.”
Amélie curtsies and bids Nadia good night, and only when she’s closed the door behind her does Nadia let out the breath she was holding.
That familiar ache returns to her gums, and when she leans toward the mirror and pulls her lips back, her reflection is fanged. For a moment, she studies herself, admires the way her sharp canines glisten in the dim candlelight.
Now that she’s drinking blood regularly, her countenance is much improved. Her skin has never been so aglow, her eyes never quite so vivid blue. And it’s all because of the blood.
The thought makes her throat feel parched.
She wants blood, and she wants itnow. It’s likely a carafe will be served with dinner, but if Amélie’s blood is watered-down wine, the blood served at meals is akin to water itself; it may keep her alive, but it offers very little in way of pleasure.
What she wants is Theodore’s blood. Drinking from him brings her delights her human body never knew, and her heart beats slightly faster at the thought of slipping her fangs through his skin.
But there’s no time for that now; she’s expected in the dining room for dinner. The Kazamirs will be there, with their sharp eyes and pretty smirks, but they’re to leave in the morning, and that is the only consolation Nadia feels as she takes a steadying breath and turns for the door. One more dinner, and then she’ll be free of Honora for good.
Dinner is not near soinsufferable as Nadia anticipated it would be. For once, Honora sits away from Theodore, and though her steely-blue eyes are sharp as ever, she keeps them mostly to herself. Despite the outbursts at brunch, the Kazamirs remain cordial. There’s tension in the air, though, a tenuous peace that feels ready at any moment to snap. Thankfully, the thread holds firm, and no one so much as raises their voice during the course of the meal.
After dinner, the women depart to the drawing room to await their after-meal tea, while the men stay behind to enjoy cigars in the dining room. Nadia would dread it—being expected toconverse with Honora and her mother—but having Contessa at her side makes even the stifling small talk feel more bearable.
They sit together upon a settee, and across the room, Honora sits beside Lady Kazamir. They wear matching scowls, and it’s almost comical how displeased their pouts are. In fact, Contessa whispers about it in Nadia’s ear, and it takes all her self-control not to dissolve into laughter at the Kazamirs’ expense.
To her credit, Lady Rosetti moves the conversation along flawlessly, though by the time they’ve finished their tea and the men have burned through their cigars, Nadia can scarcely control the desire still burning through her veins—the yearning for Theodore and his blood.
