Page 18 of Princess of Thorns and Ruin

“The king gave me strict instructions.”

Jason holds both palms up in front of him. “Of course, of course. I’ll have my staff ready the plane at once.”

My blood boils. How dare he speak to us the way you speak to rowdy children? “I really do not care for your tone, Mr. Beaumont.”

He might have a hundred years on me, but he looks barely thirty, so it’s not like he’s an Elder or anything. In fact, anyone less than two-hundred years old is basically still a teenager in our world.

“Excuse me, your royal highness. I’m a soldier, not a gentleman.” The fake honey in his apology is as stiff and dishonest as his curt bow.

I turn around in anger, making a mental note to tell the king about the guard’s unacceptable behavior, and head to my room.

I’ve just finished changing into a short black skirt and a white blouse when a soft knock on the door interrupts my outraged train of thoughts. I close my eyes and breathe in deep, the familiar thuds of Leo’s heartbeat calling out to me from the other side of the wood.

“Come in, Leo.”

He enters the room with his arms braced at his sides, fists curled. “I’ve been informed of our hasty departure, princess. Do you wish to feed before we travel?”

My heart softens, his fear as easy to see as the leftover bite marks on his neck. “That won’t be necessary. Just ask Selene to get me my favorite bag, the one with the gold and silver sequins.”

“As you wish.” He doubles back to find Selene with a slight bow, his fist uncurling.

All the other humans were only temporarily assigned to me, so he’s the only one that’ll come along. There’s no time to say goodbye to my handmaidens, no time to do this right. I grab my mother’s ring, my letter sealer, and the family tree my father drew by hand.

My diary is tucked between ribbons and necklaces, and I pry it from the bedside table. As I flip the pages, my elegant script runs along the paper, and my throat tightens. This journal contains the essence of my soul. I’ve been writing in it for years, consigning my thoughts and feelings in ink.

My hand shakes a little as I stride forward and throw it into the fireplace. A puff of ash and glittering embers rise into the air, but I turn my back on the book’s already blackened corners.

I’m not a kid anymore. I can’t afford to have my personal musings found by the wrong people.

Leo returns and hands me the requested bag with Emilia on his heels, the long skirt of her dress flowing in the breeze. “I’m sorry you have to rush out. Let us deal with your belongings. We’ll send them after you in a few hours with your first-blood.”

I swallow hard, my mouth dry. “We won’t travel together?”

Emilia fails to mask a wince, her dislike for Alec Beaumont plain as day. “The royal guard insisted, but I’m sure you’ll be reunited before dawn so you can feed.”

Leo nods, his head bent in submission. I throw the leather strap of my duffel bag over my shoulder and stroll through my room one last time. I’m thankful for the change, really. Besides Lucas, the life I built here was empty, and I hope my undead life will not follow the same pattern.

A black armored car is waiting for me at the foot of the estate, and Emilia hugs me awkwardly. “Safest travels, princess.”

The fabric of her blue dress glides along my arms, fresh and smooth, as I give her a quick hug. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Jason nods in acknowledgment, and I turn to my impolite bodyguard.

Beaumont stands in front of the black Range Rover, hands braced together at his front, gazing dead ahead like we’re invisible to him and he to us—the perfect picture of professionalism.

He opens the door for me as I draw near and makes sure to close the door behind me before walking around the car to the driver seat. The short trip to the edge of the property where the landing strip is located is quick and silent, and we board the small private plane waiting for us there in silence.

I haven’t been on a plane in years, and a tingle of excitement shivers through me. The interior of the aircraft is spotless. Three rows of seats stand on each side of the aisle, each of them located next to a large porthole, and a sleek white quartz bar with a matching couch form a living room area in the back.

I freeze, one hand gripping the headrest of the closest seat. “Where is Lucas? He was supposed to travel with me.”

Alec ignores my questions and exchanges a few words with the flight attendant.

A black and white uniform hugs the blond woman’s curves, a few buttons of her blouse undone to emphasize her cleavage. She’s human, about my age, and the scent of her blood dries up my mouth.

“Mr. Beaumont,” I snap, commanding my escort’s attention.

My curt question wipes the dashing smile from his face. “Lord Pereira is taking a different plane.”

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