Page 13 of Princess of Thorns and Ruin

She presses her creased lips together.

“Why does he want to die?” I ask, still at a loss. “I did nothing wrong.”

“Oh, ma chérie, it’s not about you.” She sets a gold cup on the table between us and pries a dagger from her robes.

“I can’t—”

“I trust you.” She slices her wrist and fills the shimmering mug.

My muscles go rigid, and yet I resist the urge to leap forward and drink from her neck, my whole body shaking.

This is the last part of the ritual.

“Thank you for your loyalty, Genevieve Damora. You have served us well,” I whisper, knowing I’ll never see her again.

“Your mother would be so proud of you.”

My eyes sting. “I wish she was here…”

Her hand immobilizes in mid-air, as though she just remembered she can no longer touch me. “Don’t bow down to injustice, and always fight for what you believe in.”

“Goodbye, Genevieve. May the dark Gods smile upon you.”

“And you, my Arielle. Ma petite sirène.”

I clasp my jade pendant as she walks away.

She’s the last person alive who knew my mother like I did, and now she’ll vanish from my life forever, her services to the crown fulfilled now that I’ve transitioned. The golden cup she left behind beckons, so I snatch it off the table, tilt my head back, and gulp it down until there’s nothing left.

Chapter 6

Anything

LEO

The hospital wing beneath the Delacroix’s estate is well-equipped to transfuse and rehydrate a servant. It comes with the territory, I guess. It hasn’t been 24 hours since the princess almost drained me dry, and I’m bitter that she didn’t finish the job.

The discarded hospital gown forms a blue clump at my feet as I change, ready to meet the obligations of my non-life. I hate how smooth and sharp my muscles feel, a sure proof that her cursed blood healed me quicker and more thoroughly than the doctors did. Most of all, I loathe that I almost died with her blood in my system, which would have turned me into one of them.

Humans turned vampires aren’t as powerful or sturdy as the natural-born vampires, but they certainly feed as much as their counterparts do. I’d rather die than become a watered-down, feeble version of the bloodsuckers that rule this world.

A man enters my room just as I’m done pulling my jeans up.

“Don’t you knock?” I snap, adjusting my belt in a hurry. The rules might be different here, but knocking before invading someone’s room is Human 101.

He holds his palms in front of him. “Fuck. Sorry.”

I shrug and wrangle my white t-shirt over my head.

“I’m Quentin, Lord Pereira’s first-blood.” The newcomer extends his hand. He’s got short hair, and he’s young. Younger than me.

His goofy smile rings a bell.

“You’re Trent’s brother, right? I went to school with him. I didn’t know you’d been chosen.” I didn’t keep up with the island’s gossip after I left for the continent, but Trent was a good friend of mine in high school, so I shake his intrusive brother’s hand.

“Yes. My parents were stoked. Come, Jean wants to speak with you.” He motions me forward.

“Now? The doctor just gave me the green light to get up from that wretched bed.”

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