Page 20 of Blood Slumberm

And then what would Celandine eat? How would she put a roof over her head? As a woman on the run from the Mage Orders, that bounty was her only hope of making her way in the world.

“Let go of your worries,” Troi said. “You can rely on me.”

He stepped around the dressing screen.

The air left her lungs. The breeches she had taken in hugged his calves and thighs to perfection, showing off every muscle he had regained. His altered black-and-gold velvet tunic emphasized his broad shoulders and golden-brown skin. He had trimmed his stubble beard, and a topaz stud gleamed in his earlobe. Every detail was perfection. The famed prince had stepped out of the legends and into her century.

“Celandine,” he said, his voice low with a little rasp, “you look like a princess.”

She looked down and smoothed the gown she had modified for herself. It was the deep purple-black of a summer night sky. She had also donned a beautifully embroidered marriage headband, for her disguise would not have been complete without that to signify her status as his wife.

She tried not to wonder whom this finery had belonged to, for it was low of her to be jealous of a long-gone princess. “I hope seeing these on me does not make you miss your wife.”

“I never had a wife. I don’t know whose heirlooms these were, but they’re yours now.”

She looked up at him. “Didn’t you face pressure to marry and father heirs?”

“Certainly. I found it convenient to be at war as often as possible, where the matchmaking mamas couldn’t throw their daughters at me.”

Celandine chuckled. She couldn’t fault him for wanting to remain unattached after how she had shunned a second marriage. “Were you planning to settle down after your coronation, then?”

He adjusted his collar with a rueful look. “Let us say that my parents’ experience did not inspire a love in me for the institution of marriage.”

“Family politics are the most painful of all.”

“As you well know.”

“And what about the fanged mamas of Orthros?” Celandine asked before she thought better of it. “Did any of them arrange a heretical marriage for you?”

“Hesperines don’t marry, and the eternal bond between immortal mates is one that cannot be arranged. It is fated.”

“That sounds ominous. How does Hespera reveal this fate to you, then?”

“Addiction.”

Something about how he said the word sent an unwholesome thrill down Celandine’s spine. It was not impossible to imagine becoming addicted to a Hesperine’s bite.

“You know your mate by your Craving for their blood,” he went on. “An eternal hunger that can only be sated by the one destined to spend forever at your side. You need no other blood, mortal or immortal. We call that person a Grace.”

“Do you have a Grace waiting for you to wake?” She found that even more unpleasant to think about than a wife.

Troi gave her a humorless smile. “I doubt I’m a candidate for such a blessing from Hespera.”

There was something profoundly, unexpectedly sad about that bleak statement. She knew what it was like for life’s joys to be forever out of reach. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s just as well. If I were Graced, I would have died in that Slumber. A Hesperine can’t survive without their Grace. They die of withdrawal.”

“Oh.” She shuddered. “That seems a high price to pay for love.”

“It has its benefits,” he said, a gleam of amusement in his eyes. “Sating the addiction is said to be ecstasy without compare. The depth of the magical bond adds to the pleasure.”

Suddenly she felt too warm in her gown. “So Hesperines do practice profane pleasure rituals.”

“I promise I will behave at the ball tonight.”

“I doubt that very much.”

He gestured to himself. “Will I do?”

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