“Behind you!” Alex yelled, and Lucette spun and saw a vampire heading toward her, in the courtyard just outside the back entrance to the palace. The vampire lunged, fangs first.
Executing a twisting side-kick, she planted her heavy boot into the vampire’s nether regions and he staggered back, bent over in pain.
Raising her stake, she said, “Go back to Sanguinia, or I’ll plunge this stake deep into your heart.” She’d become better at issuing these threats believably, and so far almost every vampire she encountered cared more about his own life than the money he might earn if he drank from her vein.
She’d had to stake one or two to drive home her point, but no lethal strikes, yet. She hoped her first kill had been her last.
“Boy, I’m glad I’m not that guy.” Alex chuckled. “Serves him right, though. No one bites my girl.” Alex draped his arm over her shoulders. “Great job.”
She ducked out from under his grasp. “Thanks.” She tipped her head to the side to stretch her stiff neck. “I hope that’s it for tonight.”
He reached for her again. “Here, let me rub your shoulders.”
“Let’s get back inside first.” She stepped away from his reach. “No sense in drawing more vampires here on purpose.”
They crawled through the tiny, hinged door beside the back entrance that had been used by the royal canines in years gone by to come and go from the palace. When she was a baby, her father had given all of the royal dogs away to ranchers and farmers in the countryside, afraid that boisterous animals in the house might lead to finger pricks.
Once they’d both squeezed through the tiny door, Alex locked it and slipped the key into his pocket. Lucette was so glad she’d discovered that little door that was hard to spot from the outside unless you knew it was there. So far, no other vampires had found that way in, and it provided a great entrance for Alex, without her having to move a barricade from another door, and without Alex having to smash through one, thus opening the way for other vampires to pass through.
As the pair climbed the staircase from the main foyer to the balconied corridor, midway between her parents’ bedrooms, Alex’s fingers brushed hers. She clasped her hands behind her back, but then turned to smile at him.
“Come on,” Alex said. “When are you going to let me hold your hand? We’ve spent every moment of every night together for more than two weeks now. Don’t you trust me yet?” His lips twisted and the skin at the sides of his eyes crinkled. “Don’t you like me?”
Her heart squeezed at his obvious hurt. “I do like you, Alex. You know I do, but... ” But she didn’t feel that way about him. She didn’t want to hold his hand or welcome his arm across her shoulders or around her waist. It felt odd and awkward and wrong. At this rate, she would never find true love.
“But what, Lucette?” Alex stopped at the top of the stairs and crossed his arms over his chest.“You need to find true love to break this horrible curse, and I’m sorry, but unless you’re falling in love with one of the boys who gawk at you in that display case and fall asleep next to your glass coffin, I’m all you’ve got.”
She walked along the railing that ran the length of the balcony high above the foyer and trailed her fingers on the polished wood. Was Alex right? By resisting his advances, was she prolonging the curse? If Alex was her true love, she’d feel it eventually ... wouldn’t she?
He moved over to the wall opposite the railing, so she turned to face him. She did find Alex attractive. He was certainly handsome. His bright eyes flashed with humor and intelligence under eyelashes that were thick and dark, given his red hair, and his infectious smile never failed to draw out one from her. But it didn’t feel right. He felt like a friend, nothing more. Still, wasn’t friendship the way true love was supposed to begin?
“Give me time, okay?” she asked. “The curse won’t lift if we pretend to be in love. It has to be real. I have to prove that it’s real.” She looked down for a moment. “We can’t force it.”
Alex leaned back against the wall, crossed one leg over the other, and spread his strong arms to the sides. “Whenever you’re ready, here I am.”
“Thank you,” Lucette said. Alex was right about one thing. He was her only option. All the other boys were either asleep or trying to drink her blood.
Lucette’s eyes snapped open in the darkened room. She flipped over onto her belly and pressed the panel to spring herself free from her glass coffin. The twenty-eighth night of the curse, and she still had no idea if her father knew she got out of her cell every night. He had to realize someone was responsible for the wounded vampires, but neither her father nor her mother had mentioned a word in any of their letters. Perhaps her mother was covering some how, or her father was in denial.
She and Alex had become a great team. He might not be willing to fight, but he was good at keeping watch and warning her of danger. Plus, he was super sweet. Almost every night he brought her a small gift. His attention was so flattering, and she realized she needed to try harder to return his affections, especially if she were to find true love.
She rolled out of the long glass compartment and, once on her feet, bent down to stretch out her tight back and legs. Three young men had braved staying in the tower tonight as an expression of their alleged undying love and were sleeping in chairs next to her sleeping case. She turned on the gaslights and looked into the cell to see whether the boys had slid love notes through the slot. She’d stopped reading most of them weeks ago, because they all said the same things: she was beautiful, they loved her, they’d do anything for her. Some even suggested exactly what she should write back to them, in order to prove her love.
If only it were that easy.
Two of tonight’s young men she’d seen before. Henry, the one with the dark hair, drooled in his sleep, and, by her count, this was the seventeenth night of his vigil. She admired his persistence and bravery at not locking himself somewhere more secure, instead exposing his neck to whatever might come up the stairs of the tower in the night. He’d already been bitten once, and Lucette had left him a note begging him to take cover, to stop risking himself as a display of his love. But her letter had only encouraged him; his response told her as much. If he was bitten a second time, she’d write to both her parents and insist they force Henry to lock himself up at night.
The second suitor, a pudgy teenager with curly blond hair, was on his third night. She supposed that at some point she should read his love notes to at least find out his name.
The third boy, who looked older and more muscular, was new and wore a slayer uniform. His dark hood and mask covered his face. A slayer was potentially interesting, but off limits: slayers weren’t allowed to date, and Lucette couldn’t imagine why his commander had allowed him to sleep here. Perhaps he hadn’t gotten into his compartment in time? She snagged one of his stakes from the quiver lying on the floor next to him, then checked the eight wooden boxes around the room. All were occupied.
Too curious to leave the room without finding out more about her mysterious new suitor, Lucette turned back to the sleeping slayer. Had he left her a note? She reached under the slot at the bottom of the cell wall, grabbed the letters left there, and flipped through them quickly. The curly haired boy was named Felix, but there was nothing to indicate that any of the notes were from the slayer.
Time to take a peek under his hood. She thought that was only fair, since he’d been watching her sleep. She stood in front of him, impressed by his broad shoulders, his trim frame, and his considerable height.
She reached for the zipper that fastened his hood to his shirt.
His hand grabbed her wrist.
She gasped, and his other hand came up, holding a stake.
“You’re awake,” they said together.
She wrenched her arm free and lifted her stake. He had to be a vampire disguised as a slayer. Her heart pounded and she fought to gain control of her thoughts, fought to find an explanation for this person who was awake, other than his being a vampire. She braced herself, stake pointed at his heart, ready to fight should he attack.
“Princess”—he rose slowly, lowering his stake—“I mean you no harm.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” She lunged, stake forward to show she meant business. Threats frightened most vampires off.
“Hey, careful.” He chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” Anger rose inside her. Perhaps tonight she’d follow the slayer army code and stake first, ask questions later.
He shook his hooded head.“I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just that, watching you sleep this afternoon, I thought you were the most beautiful, delicate creature I’d ever seen. So sweet, so vulnerable.”
“Vulnerable?” She drew back her stake. “Guess again.”
He backed up a foot. “My mistake. Now you’re awake, a better description might be angry and violent.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I think I like it.”
Her cheeks burned. “How are you here?” It was just minutes after sunset. No vampire could run that fast, and he claimed to have watched her sleep. Creepy. Plus, according to everything she’d learned, the only vampire strong enough to withstand sunlight, even on a rainy day, was the vampire queen. “How did you get in here before dark? Do you know Alex?”
“I traveled a long distance,” he answered, “but I arrived before dark. And no, I don’t know anyone named Alex.”
She jabbed the stake with more force, coming closer to him than before, and as if by instinct, he raised his too. But then he took a step back, almost falling into his chair.
“Princess, I’m not a vampire. I’m a human.” He thumped his chest as though that proved anything.
“Then how and why are you here?” Something about his voice was familiar, even muffled under the masked hood.
“Stories of the sleeping beauty of Xandra intrigued me,” he said. “And I must say, even now, as you’re threatening to attack me, your beauty has far exceeded my expectations.”
“Do you think my blood will be sweeter if you flatter me first?” She pulled her stake back, ready to strike.
He raised his stake in defense. “I repeat, I am not a vampire.”
“Yeah, right. Prove it. Take off your mask and let me see your eyes.”
“Sure.” He stepped forward. “But only if you drop your weapon. From the look in your eyes, I have a feeling I might be mortally wounded before I even get my hood unzipped.”
“You put your stake down first.” No way would she let herself be tricked.
He set it down and raised his hands.
She considered her options. Alex might arrive at any moment, but some nights he came later, depending on where he’d slept during the day and whether he’d had to head back to Sanguinia to replenish his blood supply. A few nights Alex hadn’t come at all, because he’d had to spend time with his mother or she’d get suspicious. But even if he arrived right now, he wouldn’t fight a vampire; she was on her own.
It felt dangerous to lower her stake, but she should at least let this guy take off his hood and show his face. One hint of fangs, and she’d move into action.
She lowered her arm. He unzipped the hood and pulled it off.
Tristan.
Lucette froze, unsure of what to say. She was not even sure her tongue would work. Seeing his handsome face, his beautiful blond hair, his lush lips, his strong neck, brought back a flood of memories. At first good ones, sending shivers of attraction racing through her, and then bad ones, piercing her pride and stabbing her chest with the pain and humiliation of his rejection.
“Princess,” he bowed, “my name is Tristan of Judra, and I’ve come to rescue you.”
“Is this your idea of a joke?” He was acting as if he didn’t know her, had never met her. Given his cruel rejection, he must be setting her up for some kind of humiliation.
“Joke?” He stepped forward.“Princess, I assure you, my intentions in coming here are entirely noble. I heard you were beautiful—which you are. I heard you were alone—which you are. I heard you needed help— which seems true. And I heard you wanted roses—which I brought.”
She gasped. Tristan had answered her father’s call for help.
Of course he had. He’d come to rescue her. And he brought roses. Yes, they were intended as defensive weapons, not declarations of love, but still... She tried to think straight through the happy thoughts dancing in her mind. Maybe he’d always loved her. Maybe he’d just been waiting for her to be older. Maybe he hadn’t meant what he’d told her nearly two years ago.
“You brought roses?” Her voice sounded breathy.
“Yes.” He gestured over to the corner where a vase stood, full of red roses on long stems.
She’d only seen drawings of roses, and they were more beautiful than she could have imagined. Their scent was so sweet, too, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t noticed the vase the moment she woke.
“I brought these,” he said, “and as many bushes as I could carry, too, although I’m not sure I understand the desperate need for flowers. Even a rose would pale against your beauty.” He bowed.
She wondered for a moment if he was mocking her, but the gesture seemed real. Suddenly, the truth hit, and she flinched like she’d actually been struck. Tristan didn’t recognize her. Not one bit. He had forgotten her that easily.
But perhaps not. He looked the same—except his hair was longer and his face had hardened—but she’d grown up. She was no longer that little kid he’d so easily dismissed. She wondered how to tell him, but decided not to. Not yet. First, she had to get to the bottom of how and why he was here—and awake. Had Tristan converted to vampirism? She studied his mouth for evidence of fangs, his blue eyes for yellow flecks.
“How are you awake?” she asked, embarrassed that her voice came out so weakly, without the confident tone of a slayer.
He ran a hand over his golden hair that reflected the gaslights. “The curse was on the citizens of Xandra. It appears I’m not affected, since I’m not Xandran.”
She nodded. That was possible. “Then why has no one else come to help me? Why only you?”
He looked down for a moment before answering. “Everyone’s afraid of getting involved. They think that if they do, vampires will attack their citizens, too.”
“So you’re not a vampire?”
He laughed.“No. Princess, I’m here to defend you from vampires—to slay them. When I heard of your predicament, I came running. I couldn’t imagine leaving an innocent young lady here on her own with no way to defend herself.”
Lucette narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can defend myself just fine, thank you.” She dropped her arms to her sides; it was crazy to be so defensive. She might be more capable than he assumed, but that was no excuse to be rude. Help was exactly what she needed, and to chase it away now that it had arrived—especially in the form of Tristan—would be foolish. “Okay then,” she said. “Gather your weapons. After I get changed, you can join me on my patrol.”