Page 54 of The Depraved Prince
It’s open.
I blink, taken aback by the massive oversight on Hayden’s part unless it was one of the guards when they dropped off breakfast. Hayden wouldn’t make a mistake like this.
Whoever it was, I’m thanking them. I take advantage and swing it open, ready to try and escape once more. Hayden should be resting. It’s daytime; I assume every vampire is asleep except the guards.
I walk down the dark halls, holding the long dress just a few inches above my ankles to avoid tripping over it as I jog barefoot to the same exit as last time.
I walk stealthily down the same stairs and see the familiar big French doors.
This time, I know Hayden is asleep. I have this feeling…this weird connection to him, and I know he’s far away from me, which makes me more secure to walk faster.
My salvation calls my name just as my heartbeat thunders in my ears and neck.
This time, the sound of a woman crying behind me halts me faster than I can process my movements. I stand there frozen on the black stairs and turn my head slowly to the woman’s soft sobs.
She’s dressed in all black, her hair just as black as her dress, and black streaks are down her face. I only get her profile because it looks like she’s so concentrated on a male portraitfrom Victorian times that’s mounted above the fireplace. A man with long dark black hair, blue eyes, and a mustache that sits above his pink lips stands next to a beautiful woman with cinnamon-red curly hair. She’s tall, just like him, with freckles over her nose and glowing skin. She wears a bright yellow corset and a bright emerald heart-shaped jewel in the center of her neck. It’s blinding…even in the painted portrait, the artist did an elaborative job of capturing little details of the encapsulating jewelry and features of the couple whose love is so visible that it’s almost palpable.
A powerful tug of my bicep sends me off balance, and I almost fall the last two steps on the stairs. I turn to see a guard in a suit, with a long black beard and red eyes.
He hisses a creature-like sound through his pointed fangs.
“Queen Drago, it seems to me that Prince Hayden Drago’s pet has gotten out of her cage again. I made sure to lock it after I dropped off her breakfast. This isn’t my fault, I prom—” He trembles as I try to fight his overpowering hold.
The woman turns around, wiping her black tears away with the back of her hand. Her red eyes slowly change to brown, and she clears her throat to cut him off.
“Mr. Charles, it’s okay. I believe you. I’m sure it was a mere oversight…” He still looks guarded, like he’s trying to hide the fact he’s pissing his pants because he might get fired and or killed.
“I’m not my husband, and I’m definitely not my son. You can go. I won’t have you executed for a genuine mistake.” She dismisses him with a gentle wave of her hand that has a massive rock on her ring finger. Her voice is serene, just like her smile. She looks like she has a gentle charisma about her, something warm in the way she talks with a British accent. She has a heart-shaped face. Her beauty is out of this world.
“Leave the girl,” she commands gently.
Charles stops midway, loosening his grip, and I free myself from him.
I turn to the guard as his brown eyes jump back and forth between Queen Drago and me with a confused flattening of his pursed lips.
“Queen Drago. Are you sure? You need to rest. The sun is out. Let me escort Ms. Flores back to her room,” he insists.
“Oh, Charles, it’s the anniversary of my brother’s death. I cannot sleep on this day, so I think this will give me a small chance to get to know the woman who changed my son’s outlook on his ascension.”
I furrow my brows, wanting to ask her questions, but I bite my tongue instead. I’m too scared to speak to these strangers, let alone breathe.
“She’ll be fine with me,” she reassures Charles as she lifts a perfect dark brow at me, “Right, Ms. Flores?”
I look to Charles and then back at the ‘queen.’
“I-I,” I stutter, unsure of what to do, but I think the best thing for me is not to disagree with Hayden’s mother. I grab my elbows for some type of emotional support to speak, rubbing the laced fabric, and swallow nervously as I stand amongst vampire royalty. “Yes, you’re right.”
I look away from the vampires and fidget with my fingers instead, pinching at my laced black dress, hoping it’ll calm my nerves.
“Good,” she chirps happily, satisfied with my answer even though it wasn’t as convincing. Because deep down, I do want to try and escape again. At the end of the day, I’m still human, a fragile, different kind of creature they can toy with and break so easily if they choose to.
The ends of her red lips tilt, and her white teeth make their presence known. Charles stays but keeps his distance behindme, watching like a hawk ready to whisk me away if the Queen gives him the word.
“I want to get to know you. My son tells me you like peonies.” She drives her forearm between mine just as my heart skips a beat, and it palpitates so hard I almost choke on my saliva.
How does he know these big and little things about my life?
Her skin is cold but soft at the same time. She leads me down a large hallway on the first floor. We pass by more portraits from different eras the further we walk. Some have children in them, and various people I don’t recognize. We pass by a portrait that says 1955 in small cursive handwriting in the right-hand corner.
