Page 49 of House of Royals

“I know how badly you want the respect of the Royals again,” I start. “If you claim me, you won’t be shamed anymore. I can only imagine how hard it has been keeping the House afloat without any support.” I play to Jasmine’s sympathies. I need her to agree to my terms if I want to stay in control of my life. “But I also understand what may happen if the King comes.”

I meet each of their eyes. Lillian seems understanding and nods as I speak. I decide I might like her. If I ever tried to gain an ally here in this House, she might be it. Micah just looks at me with disdain. We will never be on good terms.

“I will help you,” I say, turning back to Jasmine, who watches me with impassive eyes. “I will claim the House, and I will help you get the respect you need back. By doing this, I know that the King will try and probably succeed in killing me. I’ll resurrect and become a Born. But you have to wait a little while.”

“How long?” Jasmine asks. “I’ve lead this shamed House forfifteenyears.”

“Just until January first,” I say, letting it out in a breath. Because after that day, I’m surrendering my life as a human. “That’s my twenty-third birthday. And if I’m going to stop aging, that seems a good one to be frozen at.”

“What’s wrong with being well seasoned?”

I turn to see Markov walk into the library. His face is covered in blood, it drips down onto his white, button up shirt. He dabs at himself with a handkerchief.

“Nothing,” I squeak. “But I don’t think you all want to wait until I’m an old woman.”

“No,” Jasmine says. “January first is just over three and a half months away. That’s long enough.”

“It gives us both time to prepare,” I say. “You make whatever preparations you think will be helpful in protecting yourselves against the King. I get to say goodbye to being everything that makes me, me.”

I look over at Lillian. She stares at the floor, and her eyes are haunted. I realize something then. Lillian resents being a vampire. She didn’t ask for this. And I wonder if she got a nasty surprise when she woke up inside a grave. Not all Born can know what they are before they die.

“And what would you like in the meantime?” Jasmine asks with weight and hesitance in her voice.

I look back at her. “Nothing,” I reply simply. “I will claim the House for you. We will say it’s mine. But I don’t want anything to do with it. My father didn’t feel the need to be involved and neither do I. I won’t forsake you, but I don’t want your throne. And until my birthday, I just want to be left alone.”

“That’s fair,” Lillian says. “You should take her up on her offer.”

“You lack ambition, my child,” Markov says. I look over at him. He’s staring me down with that sly, scary smile of his. “You’ve been given the world on a silver platter, but you do not wish to partake.”

“I agree to your terms,” Jasmine quickly cuts him off. She doesn’t want anyone planting any seedling ideas of power in my head. “The House will leave you be until January first. In exchange, you will claim the House and leave me to continue doing what I’ve been for the last fifteen years.”

I step forward and extend a hand toward her. She stands, as well. Her eyes are cold and serious and she searches me. It’s not hard to tell she’s a woman who’s been betrayed and stabbed in the back, and she’s done the same to others. She’s evaluating if I’m the same kind of person.

She takes my hand and shakes it.

When she releases it, I turn and head for the doorway. I pause though, turning back. “How are Trinity and Christian?”

“They’re fine,” Lillian says. She stands, as well, and crosses toward me. “It was a rough couple of hours, but they’ve both fully recovered.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I’ve been worried about them.” I look at Jasmine when I say this. And she’s trying hard to cover the annoyance under her skin with a pleasant smile.

“Goodnight,” I say, smiling back at her. Without another word, I turn and walk back out the front door.

Jasmine may be a tri-polar queen with an iron fist, but I won’t be pushed around.

I’VE GOT THREE AND A half months until my life changes forever. Literally. I could sit here and wait for it. I could worry my time away over it. I could have sleepless nights as I think about saying goodbye to the sun, how blood is going to taste, how sharp my fangs will be.

Or I can keep living, right up to the very last second.

“You’ll be here every mornin’ at four?” Fred asks.

I nod. “I’m already used to the schedule,” I say as we sit at the back of the bakery. The floor is covered in a fine dusting of flour. The air is heavy with the scent of dough. Fred, the large man with the darkest skin I’ve ever seen, has dried and cracked hands from the constant exposure to baking elements and endless washing. “So I promise it won’t be a problem.”

Fred, the owner and namesake of the bakery and coffee shop—Fred’s—nods. “I need someone to help me Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. If that’s good for you, I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

A huge grin breaks over my face and I nod. “Thank you, sir. I appreciate the opportunity.”

He just chuckles at me and shakes his head.

---