“Please, come into my office. Bring your goblets. My mother is here.” He turned to Nerissa. “I know you must be nervous. Curtsey low when you meet her, and address her as Your Majesty. Her full title is Her Majesty Blood Wyne, Queen of the Crimson Veil and the Vampire Nation. Take her lead. If she decides to play it informal, she will tell us.”
And with that, he led us into a private office that was off one side of the Grand Parlor. Just as lavish, the ornate furniture was white with gold trim. It was rococo, late baroque in style, embellished with flourishes and engravings. The end tables were marble-topped, the sofa and love seat upholstered in white. The desk was especially large, fit for a dandy, with gold trim on every drawer. Plants flourished around the room, and the carpeting was white, which led me to believe that either Roman never fed in this room or he had an impeccable carpet cleaner and maid. Most likely the latter.
And in the center of the room, as we entered, stood Blood Wyne, waiting.
The Queen of the Crimson Veil was like a statue, carved from the whitest bar of Ivory soap. She was colorless, soft, ivory white in skin and with eyes the same frost color that Roman had, with almost no delineation marking the separation of iris to the whites of her eyes. She had been alive for so long that all pigment had faded from her body. Her hair, black that was streaked with white, coiled in a towering braid atop her head. She was wearing a gold tiara, inset with rubies and diamonds.
Her dress was woven gold, beaded with crimson. The neckline was low and straight, and her cleavage swelled gently over the top. The waist cinched in tight, and the skirts flowed out over a mass of crinolines, or a hoop—I wasn’t sure which—to trail along the ground. The sleeves of the dress puffed out on top, fitting snugly around her forearms.
Roman immediately swept into a deep kneel in front of her, and Nerissa and I curtsied low to the ground, holding the pose until she examined us for a moment.
“Rise.” The single word resonated through the room. Her voice was low and throaty, rich with power and years of command.
As we straightened up, she held out her hand and Roman quickly moved to kiss it. “Your Majesty, we are honored by your presence.”
Blood Wyne looked past him to me. “Menolly, you are looking well.” Her eyes flickered over to Nerissa and her nostrils flared for just a second. “Introduce me?”
I almost tripped over my tongue in my haste to obey. “Your Majesty, may I introduce my wife, Nerissa Shale? Nerissa, this is Her Majesty, Blood Wyne, Queen of the Crimson Veil and the Vampire Nation.”
I wasn’t sure if my protocol was correct—I could never remember who you were supposed to introduce to whom, in terms of importance. I knew there was some rule about it, but I had never paid much attention to Miss Manners or Emily Post, and I hoped that Blood Wyne hadn’t either.
If I screwed up, the Queen didn’t mention it. She turned to Nerissa, who again curtsied. “So, this is the wife of my son’s consort. You are a pretty thing, that I will say.” She ran her gaze up and down Nerissa like she was judging a beauty contest. “What are you again, girl?”
If she was offended, Nerissa was cautious not to show it. “I’m a werepuma, Your Majesty. I come from the Rainier Puma Pride.” She flashed me a look that said, You owe me so big. I gave her the slightest of nods. I’d be paying for this one for a long time, and rightly so.
“A werepuma. Well, now. What does your family think of your marriage to a vampire? I had thought—perhaps my knowledge is out of date—that Weres were not all that fond of vampires.” Blood Wyne began to circle Nerissa, nodding to herself.
I glanced at Roman, who simply stared at the ceiling. Yeah, he didn’t want to get into it either and as much as I owed Nerissa for tonight, he was going to owe us ever so much more. I planned to make him pay and pay good. He must have felt my stare because he shuffled and glanced at me, then back to his mother.
Nerissa looked like Bambi caught in the headlights. “My family . . . we aren’t on speaking terms. They didn’t approve of my choice, so I walked away and joined my wife’s family instead.” Her voice was a little higher than usual, but she was managing to hold her composure under Blood Wyne’s scrutiny.
But I was beginning to get irritated. “Your Majesty, my wife is nervous. I would ask of you . . .” I paused. How could I best ask the Queen of Vampires to back off from upsetting my wife without causing a ruckus?
Blood Wyne’s lips curled into a smile as she turned to me. “You are protective of your mate. This is a good thing.” And then she laughed—not gently, but with a sincere touch of mirth. “I will relent. Nerissa, you are a credit to your wife, and to your loyalties. It must be difficult when forced to choose between one’s heart and one’s familial duty. Which is precisely the reason I invited you here, today. I know all about your background—don’t look so surprised,” the Queen added when Nerissa bristled. “Of course I would check into anyone who has access to my son’s personal affairs. As his consort’s wife, you have precisely that access.”