Chapter 101 Dagger to the Heart
❀ Maeve ❀
For the first time since my status changed from wolfless rogue to princess consort, and then queen, I let another brush my hair.
Jessica handled the comb with deft but soft movements.
Long after she’d gotten every tangle out, she continued to gently brush it, and I allowed her.
I might have lost my mind without her quiet presence.
A hailstorm thundered right outside the window, hitting the shutters in a mixture of tinkling and banging sounds.
The hearth roared, the human with me needing the warmth.
I sat in front of a mirror, my face drawn tight, eyes appearing shell-shocked.
My body was tense and still. A heavy cloud hung in the air.
A slow blink.
The image didn’t waver, just a small girl calmly becoming a woman by way of blood, curse, and claw.
After my outburst earlier, Nikolai had returned me to the room, fists clenched in promise. “I swear to you, I’ll find a solution to the curse, destroy the amulet, and protect you with my very life.”
Then he’d tapped a finger under my chin. “All I need from you is your trust, dusha moya,” he’d said.
But he didn’t trust me.
He hadn’t trusted when I’d said Lilith was dangerous to me. He didn’t trust me when I said I needed Bastian.
My hands cupped the cloth-wrapped talisman.
I felt horrible even considering it, but I knew, without a doubt, that Bastian would do whatever it took to save me—even if it meant sacrificing Alpha Mordane.
Or at least I did, back when he still thought I was just a wolf.
Would he feel the same way once he found out that not only was I a hybrid of the creatures he hated most, but I also had a vampire mate and had accepted him into my body and heart?
Said heart throbbed in my chest. Jessica continued to comb.
My fair hair glided through the ritual with an ease I envied. Was I doomed to never enjoy such frictionless peace?
“What is that you hold, Your Grace? It seems of great importance to you.”
I glanced down at the talisman Nikolai had given me in Blackbridge.
“It’s a mystically charmed talisman to repel vampires—” Jessica gasped. “But as you can see,” I continued, “it’s not that strong. The barest wrap of fabric over it dampens it’s power.”
“Did your mother give it to you?”
I closed my eyes. My mother had given me scented oils to snare a campmate.
“No, Nikolai gave it to me. Before my identity came out. He was trying to protect me, but he seared my skin.”
In more ways than one.
Jessica said nothing. I glanced back at my image in the mirror.
My chest was bare, my neck carrying only one mark.
Suddenly, my head felt naked and raw as well, as though an object of importance was missing from it. Almost like a phantom, I felt the weight of the thorned crimson crown around my head.
But would the people accept me as I was? I snorted, raising my palm to block my face with grace.
A half-wolf and vampire-lacking queen. The stuff of theater.
A wave of loneliness suddenly hit me. It’d been mere hours since Nikolai had left to do gods knew what, and I craved his support despite the low hum of resentment in my chest.
That he would keep me imprisoned here—
But then I’d heard whispers. Gossip through the walls, thanks to my heightened hearing.
They’d planned a coronation ceremony for me. My fists tightened. I took a deep breath, tears stinging my eyes.
I wasn’t ready. No, that was the wrong sentiment…
I just wished they’d involved me.
What was it with others making plans on my behalf without my input? Was I that bad of a team player? A bad decision-maker?
What if I attended the ceremony and the crowd—assuming there was one—booed?
If Nikolai were here, he’d simply say, “The stone chose you, and no one can contend that.”
But what if they just harbored the resentment until it boiled over? What would happen then?
“You carry so much within you, Your Grace. Your eyes are rife with it.”
I was grateful for the interruption. My gaze slid to hers in the mirror.
“I know about the ceremony.”
Her hands froze on my hair, then they trembled.
I sighed. “I’m not angry at you.”
I heard her gulp. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Lazily, I pointed to my ears. “Superhuman hearing.”
“Ah,” she nodded, cheeks flaming. The human servants had forgotten that bit.
I decided to take the opportunity for some digging. “In your time at the castle, what have you heard about feral vampires? Graves' vampires?”
“Maverick Graves, the infamous feral sire.” Her brows drew together in a serious expression. “He’s assembling an army.”
I hummed, encouraging her to go on.
“They’ve never infiltrated Veilmoor, if that’s what you’re wondering, and no one knows why.”
My head tilted at that. “Interesting. But it could be he’s just focusing his force on non-vampires. If he wants to rule, that seems the best course.”
“Yes, but,” she leaned in, getting animated, “no one’s heard anything of him for months.”
“What?”
“The ferals seem to be getting scarcer. Some say they’re dying out from some mysterious defect, or that he stopped creating them.”
“Graves would never stop turning vampires,” I said thoughtfully.
“My thoughts exactly. So I think he’s hiding them to keep his true numbers secret, or… he’s dead.”
As much as I hoped that to be true, I knew I wouldn’t get that lucky.
And if Graves mysteriously, impossibly, died, how would we find Lyssa’s blood to destroy them?
“You have really fine hair. Gorgeous, truly.” She gently set my hair down my back and shoulders. “You’ll make a great queen.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t even know me.”
“I do,” she said, affronted. “You’re kind and curious. You challenge Master Nikolai, and you entered the thirst hall without fear just to find your friend. You never abandon those you love, and you fight to do the right thing always. If that’s not a queen, I don’t know what else is.”
At her comment about never abandoning those I love, I thought I saw a shadow of something in her eyes.
Did she know about my dual mates—about Bastian?
“Have you heard anything about a Lycan trying to get into Veilmoor?”
The corner of her lips twitched as if to say, told you so. “No, but I will inform you as soon as I get even a breath of it.”
“Thank you.” I glanced at the talisman in my hands again, then set it on the vanity table. “Have you been down in the city?”
“Gods, no.” She looked appalled. “They’d capture and enslave me as soon as my feet touched the cobblestones.”
“I thought humans were protected here? With laws on indiscriminate bloodletting.”
“Oh, that’s only upheld in the castle and on royal grounds, Your Grace. It’s a jungle out there.”
My chest constricted. Then what was Drusilla doing about it?
Were there humans down there right now getting abused for their blood? Veilmoor was far from the utopia I thought it was.
“There’s something else you should know, Your Grace.” Jessica curtsied.
“What?”
“Well, the other humans and I, we noticed something disturbing.” She lowered her voice, then glanced around before continuing. “Lady Lilith has been spending a suspicious amount of time with Master Vladis. They never used to see eye to eye, so the timing is… I have to say, ominous.”
After Jessica retired, I readied for bed, twisting my hair into a protective sleeping bonnet, my mind working.
Once crowned, I’d nip things in the bud before they grew fangs to bite me.
Lilith and Vladis in cahoots spelled a brewing plot.
I’d be free to see Bastian regarding the amulet and investigate solutions to the curse and Lyssa’s blood.
Nikolai would wish he’d secured me to an iron post.
Once crowned, I would do things my way.
I settled into bed, snug against the soft pillows in the large bed.
But something was missing, the soothing presence of my infuriating vampire mate.
I could summon him—oh wait, he’d disregarded my feelings so much our bloodgem had disintegrated.
My teeth gritted. I forced sleep to take me.
Just when my mind finally quieted and I began to float on pillowed clouds—
A force like a sharp dagger pierced my heart.
I shot up in bed, clutching my chest. My breaths came in frenzied pants.
What was that?
Then an inexplicable pull began to tug on my scalp, a desire so palpable my skull trembled with want.
A crown. A crown was missing from my head.
My eyes widened…
The crimson stone had made a demand.
Lyssa was dead. She was supposed to be the recipient of the pangs.
I had to destroy her essence, accept the crown, or die—