Page 2 of Kept

My heart sped up. “I’m not—” I clamped my mouth shut. Was I hiding something? It was unwise to lie to him. Somehow, I’d ended up with two males who could scent falsehoods. I was getting more skilled at evasion, but I’d already hesitated too long for it to be effective. “I won’t come out here alone again,” I said finally.

Laurent’s expression was inscrutable as he brushed his lips over my knuckles. “You’re cold.”

“It’s winter.”

He kept my hand near his lips as he studied me. “You’re nervous about crossing the Rift.”

“Aren’t you?” A rider had delivered the invitation to Rolund’s funeral two days ago. Elissa, my brother’s First Queen, had penned the missive herself, claiming she wished to bury the hostility between our two kingdoms. To guarantee our safe passage across the Rift, the Sithistrans would lay their swords along the edge of the chasm. Nor Doruvian knights who returned from patrolling the Rift reported that the Green Guards had constructed Rolund’s funeral pyre well away from the edge. Laurent interpreted this as another assurance of peace. When the Nor Doruvian party crossed the Rift, we would stand between the Sithistrans and their weapons.

The catch was that our knights were also required to leave their weapons behind. I feared we were walking into a trap.

Laurent lowered my hand but kept it, his touch and penetrating gaze raising goosebumps on my skin. “I dislike standing on Sithistran soil. The sun is hot and the people are boring. But I don’t fear the South. Not with Varick leading my army.”

My gut twisted. “It’s Varick and your army I worry about. My actions put all of Nor Doru in peril.”

Silver eyes gleamed. “Spoken like a queen. I chose well.”

I shook my head. “You don’t understand. It was a mistake to kill Rolund. The Brotherhood blames me.”

“The Brotherhood isn’t Sithistra. The South is now leaderless. Leaderless countries are unlikely to start wars.” He shrugged. “The Brotherhood is powerful, but the brothers aren’t kings. And religious men make poor soldiers.”

“You’re a religious man.”

He smiled wide enough to show his fangs. “I’m not a man at all, princess. And I would have made a terrible soldier.” Mischief shone in his eyes. “I am very bad at following rules.” He tugged me toward the bedchamber. “Come. I brought you something.”

My heartbeat picked up as I let him pull me inside. Before we wed, he called me “princess” because it was my title. Now, he used it when he wanted to be wicked. “We should go downstairs,” I said. “The knights—”

“Will wait for us.” He led me to the vanity table where my ladies styled my hair. A bundle of silk sat atop the polished surface. Laurent lifted it and pulled the silk away, revealing a crown. It was sized for a woman, although it was a far cry from the delicate circlet he’d placed on my head during our wedding rite.

“It was my mother’s,” he said, setting the silk aside and turning the crown in his hands. It was lovely, but its beauty was dark and slightly unsettling. Black thorns twisted into elegant points. Small bloodstones winked among the tangles. There were no roses.

I touched one of the thorns. Pain shot through my finger, and a bead of blood appeared on my fingertip.

Faster than I could track, Laurent snagged my finger and sucked it into his mouth. Our eyes held as he sucked, drawing more blood from the wound before sealing it.

Too late, I remembered he had no business feeding from me. With a gasp, I pulled my finger from his mouth. “You can’t! It’s too dangerous.”

He ignored my protest and placed the crown on my head. “My mother had this made when my father chose her as his bride. The priestesses from the Wastes chanted rites as it was cast. My mother said if she was forced to wed a king, she would wear her own crown.” He turned me toward the mirror and stood behind me with his hands on my shoulders. “Her name was Sorina. She would have liked you.”

I gazed into the mirror and caught my breath. Slowly, the thorns twisted, the metal coming alive and rearranging itself. The bloodstones glittered and winked as the sensual dance unfolded. When the thorns rested at last, the crown’s points appeared sharper. Beautiful but undeniably sinister.

Laurent’s eyes met mine in the mirror, his silver irises glittering as brightly as the bloodstones in our crowns. He slid his hand from my shoulder to my throat. As he circled it, his rings caught the light. He put his lips next to my ear. “You are a vampire queen. My queen. And you’re not afraid of anything.”

In the mirror, my lips parted.

He squeezed my throat—just enough to make my heart trip in my chest. His breath coasted over my ear. “Turn around and grip the table. I have something else to show you.”

“Laurent…”

“Do as I say.”

He was in a mood. There was no arguing with him when he was like this—and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Our tentative truce endured. We were polite to each other outside the bedroom. In the privacy of the bedchamber—and his bed—we put our differences aside. He’d lied to me. He’d tricked me into marrying him, and he’d planned to kill my child. He’d had his reasons. I didn’t agree with them, but I understood them. He’d been tangled up in the prophecy and desperate to save Nor Doru. On some level, I forgave him. But I couldn’t bring myself to trust him. Or love him.

But I wanted him. All the time. At inconvenient times. I wanted him when I didn’t want to. I dared any female—or male, for that matter—to resist my husband.

Heart thumping painfully, I turned around.

“Grip the table,” he reminded me softly.

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