Vesnic of House Verenim—aka the vampire king, if we’re being blunt—turns his attention back to the clustered royals at his feet. Those simpering sycophants gaze up at him like he’s a god incarnate and yet, they’d kill him first chance they could get. It’s nauseating to watch.
“I have an announcement,” the king purrs, sending ripples of pleasure through the crowd. To be fair, there’s a reason this man is king and it’s not just because he was born into it. He’s as powerful as Vyce, Sorrow, and Wolfe, this overwhelming presence that seems impossible to be contained in a man as young as he is. Crown blood runs hot with magic, that’s for fucking sure. “It’s come to my attention,” he continues with a small roll of his blue eyes, “that there are those in the ranks of House Verenim that would like to see me take a queen.” He pauses to grin, and flashes his fangs. It turns his face from lazy to terrifying in an instant. “Or...another king perhaps,” he muses, taking a champagne glass from the hand of a woman in his entourage. “Alliances made, families united,” he mutters, like the idea doesn’t hold even a lick of appeal for him.
And then those blue eyes slide over to me again, and I feel my cheeks flushing red. Shit. Now everyone in the room is glaring at me, just daring the king to choose a dhampir so they can tear her throat out. Hah. Not that I wouldn’t take him up on the offer. Shit, I might not find the guy attractive, but becoming an overnight princess and future queen is a fantasy even little girls with hearts of eggplant can get on board with.
But I have a feeling he wants me for something else—namely, to kill somebody.
I sigh and snatch yet another glass of champagne, trading out my empty glass in the process.
Vesnic turns his attention back to the cloying beauty of the crowd.
“If you study our history,” he continues and several people shift and murmur. Vampires rarely shift or murmur, so they’re clearly confused by the king’s tangent. “You’ll remember that once upon a time...” He trails off and grins again, this awful rictus that stretches across his face like a scar. “We manipulated Mundanes into choosing gold as their currency standard.” Ah, so we’re resorting to racist slurs now. Mundane is about the most fucked-up thing a vampire can call a human or a dhampir. “Because our people, we had the magic to transmogrify useless items. We could make gold and control human economies. As you also know, that skill’s long been lost.” The king sneers and stands up, throwing his head back and finishing off his champagne. He chucks the glass against the wall nearest me and it shatters to pieces, catching the red glow from the chandeliers. It almost looks like shards of solidified blood, all that glass.
I shiver as Vesnic passes his gaze over to me again. Whatever’s coming, I’m not going to like it, am I?
“So I’ve decided,” he continues, letting his sharp gaze sweep the crowd. I can feel the power in it, rolling over us like thunder. Lightning shivers across my skin as I shudder. I’m the only one that reacts to it, damn it. Fucking vampires. “That I will marry any individual that can turn straw into gold.”
Holy. Shit.
My blood turns to ice as images of my mother flash in my head. This is too fucking eerie. No way the king just picked this at random, right? But then, nobody knows—or rather nobody should know—about what happened between my mom, Rumpel, and whatever vampire crown was involved. Mom never told me, but now I’m starting to suspect I’m standing in the same fucking house that sent my mother and me on the run for twenty frigging years.
This is too weird. The urge to escape that room, those people, it surges through me fast and hard. Fight or flight has taken over, and I know my own limits better than anyone. If the king somehow knows who I am, then there’s no way I can fight through this. I have to run and start all over again. Finding another vampire house that’ll accept a dhampir—even as a for-hire slave—is a tough prospect. Most of them will kill me on sight. Shit.
And I can’t live among humans. I just can’t. I’ve tried and I’m too...other.
The king keeps staring at me, though? Why?
He grins again and then gestures with his chin in my direction. A man in Vesnic’s entourage, dressed in ripped jeans and a band t-shirt that are honestly probably ‘designer’ and cost a fortune, moves over and leans down to whisper in my ear.
“Ass on the dais,” he growls, and I curl my lip up in a snarl. If I didn’t think punching him as hard as I can in the stomach would get me torn to pieces, I would do it. Instead, I shove past him with a dismissive knock of my shoulder and move up to stand next to the king.
This could be bad. This could be really bad.
“I’m assigning Cameron of House Verenim to actively search for a person that fits this description,” he continues, and my mouth gapes open in shock. What? This is what Atticus was talking about when he said a more permanent position. I’m literally being tasked to do the impossible? “And if no one comes forward or if Cameron can’t find the person we’re looking for, then I’m content to rule alone.” Vesnic snarls this last part out and then smirks triumphantly. He’s assigned his useless dhampir slave to the task, and he’s set a precedent that nobody alive can meet.
Well, that he thinks nobody alive can meet.
“False claims,” he starts, using his nail to slice across his own neck. Blood wells crimson against white flesh, and the crowd leans forward like a field of flowers collectively straining for the sun. “You get the picture,” Vesnic finishes, licking blood from his thumb. I sniff the air, expecting a king’s blood to smell irresistible. Instead, it’s almost cloying. I frown and take a small step back. “The next person who petitions me to choose a bride or groom who cannot spin straw to gold will have their head on a pike next to the false prophets.”
I watch in morbid fascination as the king licks his finger and drags his fingertip over the wound to close it, turning and leaving the dais the way he came.
After he goes, the reality of what just happened sinks in.
The king gave impossible requirements to his future bride.
Requirements that I know exactly how to meet.
Shit.
So...is it worth the risk to visit the Stiltz’ brothers and ask for a favor?
Because I live above a Chinese food restaurant, down the street from a cemetery, and I work for fucking scraps.
I’d rather be queen.
4
My pay upgrade is quite substantial, enough that I can actually afford to take myself out to a nice dinner and buy some shoes. And all to perform a task that the king truly believes can never be met. The safe option here would be to keep my new job for the rest of...eternity? Or at least until a new king is crowned, or the current one actually gives up and takes a queen.
Vampires might be immortal, but they’re hardly eternal.
Vesnic’s dad, Besser—who would’ve been the one to imprison my mom if my hunches are right—only ruled for fifty years before he was murdered by the queen of a rival house...who was then quickly dispatched by Vesnic himself. Ah, the struggle is real.
“What do you think?” I ask Harry, sitting in The Dragonfly and sipping some blue nightmare my ogre friend calls Caribbean Sea. Sigh. Unsurprisingly, it tastes like gin and tequila. “Do I just sit pretty and enjoy that I have all the time in the world to hang out here and get drunk with you? Or do I push?”
We’re sitting alone in the bar while Harry cleans glasses and tries not to continuously bring up the ogre girl he took home last week—the very same one he pointed out the night I slept with Vyce and Sorrow—for the hundredth time. He actually managed to convince her to sleep with him and, also unsurprisingly, she was not happy with the size of his dick. They never are; I just wish he would learn.