Page 30 of House of Royals

“And he’s meeting you at town hall?” Rath says again as he opens the door for me. I nod as I slip in.

Rath takes the driver’s seat, and we wind down the long driveway. We turn right toward town.

And the city is alive.

Twinkle lights are everywhere. The sidewalks are filled with people dressed in gorgeous gowns and tuxedos. For a moment, I can almost imagine we’re back in 1875, before the attacks. The dresses, the out of century event we’re heading to.

The people of Silent Bend don’t have modern worries or cares tonight. They laugh. They live. They breathe.

It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.

But I remember why I am going tonight. And how I hid like prey last week.

“So, was it needed to send me into exile?” I ask as we slowly make our way through the crowd.

Rath stares forward out the window. “Two Bitten dropped by the house the first night you were gone.”

“Dropped by?” I contest, raising an eyebrow. “And what happened after that?”

“I very kindly asked them to leave the premises,” he says without looking at me.

“And did they comply?” I encourage.

“No, they didn’t.” Not another ounce of explanation.

There’s a chill to the statement that hints at what Rath did to resolve the problem. I wonder if there are two new graves on the estate grounds or if maybe Rath has his own stash of vamp eating alligators somewhere.

Once again, I find myself asking if Rath is an ordinary human, a more extreme version of Ian, or the most composed vampire in all of time. Then again, I’ve seen his eyes, and they appear to still dilate. From what I’ve been taught, that’s a sure sign of still being human.

We park right in front of city hall. It’s an ancient, beautiful building that nearly rivals the Conrath Estate in its historical charm.

“You call me foranything,” Rath reinforces. His eyes are dead serious and pained. This isn’t easy for him. He served my father and now that loyalty has transferred to his only daughter.

“I’ll be okay,” I say, resting a hand on his forearm. “I promise.”

He looks like he wants to believe me, but I can tell he doesn’t.

I climb out and shut the door behind me anyway.

Bodies crowd into the building, heels click on the concrete steps. Jazz music, lively and entertaining, spills out onto the sidewalk.

Twice the enchantment exists in here as did outside.

It’s something from a dream. Lights and lace and candles and twirling gowns and masked faces. The party already started an hour ago. It’s well under way. The scent of alcohol is heavy, woven with women’s perfumes and the candles.

When the crowd surges forward from behind me, I am forced to step inside and become a part of this.

Quickly, I slip my mask on.

I’m walking into the lion’s den, but I am not unprepared. There are no less than ten stakes hidden in the folds of my skirt. There’s a handgun strapped around my calf. I wish I could have hidden a crossbow on me somewhere, but the dress didn’t begin to allow it. My cell phone is tucked between my breasts with Rath and Ian’s numbers on speed dial.

A drunken couple stumbles into my back, nearly sending me flying. I crash into a man walking by, and he catches me awkwardly.

“Whoa there,” he says, smiling as he rights me. He wears a mask with a flare of peacock feathers. He gives me a devilish smile. “Did you just fall from heaven, angel? I must insist you be more careful.”

I barely resist rolling my eyes.

“Save a dance for me later,” he says, winking at me before walking away. I watch him as he goes. He exits out a door toward the back of the ballroom.

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