Page 37 of Princess of Thorns and Ruin

“They did,” I say, skirting the truth.

Her gaze flies to the ground for a split second. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I know he wasn’t who you have wanted for yourself.”

Tears mist my eyes. That’s the understatement of the century.

“Duty takes us on unexpected paths.” She motions flippantly to her golden crown, and to the ruby-red wedding ring shining on her finger. “I never thought I’d be queen consort, and yet, here I am.”

“At least you’re happy?” I let the end of the sentence dangle, throwing her a bone. If she takes offense, I can always pretend I was merely stating a fact.

Her jeweled hand twitches on her round stomach. “I’m about to be.”

The ambivalent choice of word stokes my anxiety, and adrenaline pumps in my veins once more. “I need to talk to the king.”

I scour the room and find Victor chatting with prime minister Chastain, both men laughing at some joke.

Adele grazes my elbow, stopping me. “Not tonight. If you have a shot at changing his mind, you should talk to him when he’s alone.” Her lips purse in a grimace, and she downs the flute I discarded earlier. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”

“Can you help me? Could you speak to him or your father? They must have conferred on the matter.”

“I’m sorry, Ari. If my father and husband cared about my opinion, my life would be very different indeed.” With a dry, almost bitter laugh, she waltzes off to her ladies in waiting.

Tears muddle my vision, and my undead heart aches in my chest. If even the queen isn’t happy, my chances to find joy in this life, this court, are very slim indeed.

Chapter 14

Everything

LEO

A footman in full livery erupts in my room. “Mr. Callas. The princess has returned to her chambers.”

The boy is young, barely out of puberty with a few rogue hairs on his chin, and his attire is straight out of a period novel, with white gloves and tails. Thank God I can wear whatever I want, as long as it's business casual. I’d die if they made me wear a penguin suit, let alone if I had to dress like a fucking English butler.

The intrusion spooks me, so I jump from the bed, discard my book on the nightstand, and throw a fresh t-shirt over my head. I thought I was off duty tonight. The coronation is a party reserved for the fang-bearing kind, so all the staff was pretty much looking forward to a quiet night until sunrise.

“Wasn’t the party supposed to last all night?” I ask curtly.

He shakes his head. “She ran through the gardens like a bat out of hell, clutching the skirt of her dress. I figured I should tell you.”

Heat blooms on his freckled cheeks, and I realize I’m being an ass to a human boy who was doing me a favor.

“Yes, of course. Thank you.” I force a little warmth into my voice.

With a sharp incline of the head, he takes his leave.

Dread fills my chest, but I blow a deep breath out of my mouth to calm my nerves. She just drank from me. How much blood does she need?

Maybe she wants an early dinner, being a newborn vampire and all.

Sniffles echo through the boudoir as I inch open the door. The golden accents of the tapestries gleam in the moonlight, the electric blinds wide open.

“Oh, evening Leo,” Arielle squeaks from the egg chair, the braided crown holding her hair up, half undone.

I nod in response.

She wipes the red tears from her cheeks and discards a fistful of tissues in the trash basket. “How are you?”

“Why are you crying?” My question comes out a little rougher than I intended, but my rudeness snaps her out of her sorrows better than warmth.

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