Page 42 of The Crimson Princess
Of course, it might not matter if he has or has not. My mother also cautioned me about the snakes in the grass, the ones who you treat kindly, and appear trustworthy, but carry the largest blades, carving the deepest betrayals.Toren, I think, and it’s downright unnerving that I think of him in this context. He believes I can sense his intent, and there is no doubt, I radiate toward him, and trust comes oh so easily with him. But he is also an ancient vampire, whose magic radiates with a fire that has burned a thousand years. Can he create those feelings in me?
But the real issue at hand this morning is the druids. There is no way my father would partner with our sworn enemies, with Macklemore’s druids, not of his own free will. He defeated Macklemore to protect our kingdom. He’d never cede ground to them. And despite his supposed alliance with them, he’s invited Toren to stay in our lands, to help protect the portal. The words “of his free will”replay in my mind, with a sense of dread following. The sooner this meeting with Idris is over, the sooner I can press my father for real information.
At the bottom of the stairs, I’m aware of Mikhail guarding the door, while Evie rotates my direction and offers me a small bow. “Good day, Princess Satima,” There’s a flash of distress across her face, as if she fears a misstep, before she adds, “Unless you wish me to accompany you to the gardens?”
“No, thank you, Evie. I’ll be fine. And please don’t fret so much with me in the future. I assure you I’m not nearly as intense or formal as my father, nor will I ever be.”
“If you need anything I’m near.”
“Thank you. And I, too, will be here if you need anything.”
She studies me a moment, her lips parting as if she wishes to say something, but a moment later, she presses them together, as if she thinks better of whatever she intended to speak. I watch as she rushes away, uneasy in the outcome of the encounter. I find myself wishing I knew what secret she’d wished to share with me, a thread of my magic reaching for her, before I pull back. My father is waiting and she’s scared enough without me forcing a confession on her.
She disappears and I turn to Mikhail, who only stands by the door at my father’s instruction. I wonder who he fears will enter this day and with that very question on my mind I close the space between myself and my father’s most trusted member of his royal guard.
“Why are you at the door today?”
“As long as you are in the castle, princess, I’m to control who comes and goes.”
“Me?” My brow pinches and my nose crinkles. “What are you talking about?”
“You are the sole heir to the throne and there is quite an obsession with you since your return.”
“What?” My brows dip. “Says who?”
“Your father.”
Considering I’ve been out and about, this is nonsense, and I suspect we both know it. My father simply wants to control when I come and go. And to that, he’s guarding the wrong door, which I also suspect he knows. I’m not the reason he’s at the door, but if he doesn’t want to tell me, so be it.
“You were kind to Evie, princess Satima,” he comments, changing the subject. “Your mother would approve.”
There’s a pinch in my chest, emotion that threatens to become fire and my voice whispers from my lips, “I like to think she taught me right.”
“She did not fail. Did you rid us of the druid prince?”
My throat is an acid burn with the bitter truth, even before I speak it. “I did not. And I don’t understand why my father wishes to be friendly with the druids. We’re taught in school about their greed and brutality. My father went to war with Macklemore to save us from them.”
His expression remains inscrutable but there’s a cutting quality to his energy that tells me I’ve hit a nerve with Mikhail. “Permission to speak freely and confidentially, princess?”
“Absolutely. I would never betray your trust.”
“Nor I yours. I tried to take care of you mother. When she accepted her post, there was a part of me that knew she’d never come back. In your case, I think the best thing you can do is find space between you and the prince.”
I step closer to Mikhail, my head tilted low, my voice discreet, conspiratorial. “Why would he do this?”
“I do not know, but I comfort myself in him knowing what we don’t know. What the book knows.”
“What if the book only tells him pieces of a puzzle he has to figure out himself? And what if he gets it wrong?”
“I, too, have often had that thought,” he confesses, when most certainly such a statement would be the death of him if my father heard it. “Far more often than you might think. He’s ruled a very long time, princess, but we have to trust that he knows what he’s doing. He’s had centuries to expand his wisdom.”
“Sometimes experience breeds arrogance and carelessness. I’m the future queen. I have to live with whatever he creates.” I hesitate and then ask, “What do you think of King Toren?”
“I witnessed the day King Toren saved your father’s life. I think far more of the vampires than any druid.”
He witnessed Toren save my father’s life, then he should have witnessed my father’s attempt to kill Toren him as well. “My father betrayed him.”
“That is not for me to judge.”
