Page 18 of The Crimson Princess
My lips part in shock, and I can’t catch my breath. I…my God. My mother and Toren? It’s as impossible to believe as it is possible. My father cheated on her too often to count, and Toren is as fine a male as any woman could desire and one of the only living males who rivals King Killian’s power. It must be true, and I swear I feel a little sick. “You…she…Were you and my mother—”
“No. No,never, Satima. We met here to talk through some diplomatic strategy she didn’t feel your father would agree on unless we framed it in advance.”
I’m a generally suspicious person, especially with beautiful and powerful vampire kings. “What diplomatic strategy?”
A couple eases closer to us to wait on their drinks, and Toren grabs our cups from the counter but holds onto mine, motioning toward the door. “It’s a nice night. Why don’t we grab a table outside and chat?”
“Satima.” At the sound of Naomi’s voice, I glance to the counter to find her standing there, her brown eyes filled with sadness and sympathy. “I rushed your box. Come see me before you leave.” She slides my goodies across the counter.
“Thank you,” I say, stepping to the counter. “I know you’re busy.” I grab my treats. “I really appreciate it.”
“You’re special, honey. I didn’t want you to have to wait. And be careful. Keep your head down.” She lowers her voice. “Your eyes will draw attention, and you’ll be swarmed with condolences.”
She’s not wrong, thus the baseball hat, but it’s far from a good disguise, and the eyes do tell the story. I nod my vow of caution, and seemingly satisfied, she squeezes my hand and hurries away. With a pinch of emotion in my chest, I turn back to Toren and decide he sticks out far more than me in a village of commoners. He’s huge, and even dressed down, there’s an arrogant quality about him that reeks of royalty. I step in front of him, and he just stares at me. He does that a lot. Is it a vampire thing?
“Outside is a good idea,” I say, and indicate my box. “And if you refrain from pissing me off, I’ll share my sweets with you.”
His eyes dance with mischief. “I’ll save the bad stuff until after we eat.”
“Is there bad stuff?” I ask, certain now there is, and that’s why he’s here.
“Relax,” he murmurs softly, leaning in a little closer, his voice low and for my ears only. “I was joking, princess. There’s nothing I haven’t told you.”
A breath trickles from my lips, the tension in my shoulders easing, and he motions toward the door, a question in the action. I nod, and we work our way past the tables. As Toren’s hands are full, I open the door, the action forcing him to give me his back. I almost expect him to protest, but his eyes meet mine, warmth withthe connection, and I can feel the pulse of a delicate trust between us, at least for now. He exits first, and I follow him out, pointing the direction of a bar that faces the ocean and places our backs to the rest of the crowd milling about the patio seating.
“Good choice,” he approves, and we claim our seats, side-by-side barstools, the salt of the ocean licking at my lips, the cool air a salve to the heat of my tangled emotions.
Once we’ve settled in, I’m oh so aware of our intimate proximity, but I tell myself it’s a necessity for privacy reasons. It’s far smarter to be close, with our voices low, when speaking of sensitive topics, like him and my mother. Just the idea of them creates thunder in my chest. “Why did you meet my mother here? And how did you even communicate with her?”
“She had a messenger deliver a request for me to meet her.”
My brows dip at the idea of my mother doing this behind my father’s back. “When? Why?”
“Ten years ago. And as to why,” he continues before I can press, “your father was considering testing me. He wanted to end my reign.”
I blink, utterly confused. Though I have no trouble believing my father would want to end his reign, it seems a careless action. “And my mother did what?”
“She knew I was more powerful than your father gave me credit for being.” He pauses for effect. “Just as you do. She shared your gifts. Therefore, she didn’t believe war would end as your father hoped.”
Toren is dangerously in the middle of my business, and yet I feel no stir of fear or warning inside me.
It’s confusing.
As if reading my mind, he adds, “How I knew of her gift is nothing nefarious. I saw an exchange between her and one of my men. He lied to her. I knew he lied. I knew she knew he lied. When I met her again, which was ironically here at the Silverdale Bakery, I asked her why she trusted me after his lie.”
“And she said what?”
“He lied to me, too. He was dangerous to us both, she’d claimed.”
“What did you do?”
“I investigated, discovered she was right, and I dealt with him. And I never spoke of how I found out.” He offers nothing more. “Ultimately, she trusted me, not because of my discretion, but because she’d read my intent when I’d visited your palace.”
“I see,” I say, sipping my cocoa, and unbidden, the memories the sweet taste brings squeeze my heart. I didn’t know enough about my mother when I should have known everything. Of course, I can’t take everything Toren says as truth, either, I caution myself, peeking over my cup to ask, “And what did you do when you found out my father intended to start a war?”
“I invited your father and his queen, your mother, to visit our military facility as a show of good faith.”
“Did they?”
