Page 65 of The Crimson Princess
When he would withdraw his hand I hold onto it, a grave confession on my tongue. “Last night I had a recurring nightmare. You and my father fighting to the death.”
His expression is unchanged, but I can feel the heaviness in him, the tension radiating through the stillness of his body. “And who won, Satima?”
“I don’t know,” I say regretfully. “I woke up before it ended every time.”
“Then the ending hasn’t been written.”
“You think that’s where this is headed? A fight between the two of you to the death?”
“Maybe. Or maybe you change it all. Maybe you become the magical conduit to peace. Read the Codex, princess, and we’ll talk after.” He blinks away and for several beats I’m frozen in place, barely able to breathe, replaying that nightmare in my mind. But inaction is not an option. I have to find a way to stop the war between Toren and my father, between gale and vampire.
I grab the smaller of the books, settling it in my lap, before I seek confirmation of all Toren has told me today. Taking a moment to sip my coffee and allowing the sweet chocolate of the bean to slide along my tastebuds, wishing it were amber. I’m addicted to Toren, and that feels dangerous to all that I have ever believed as truth in my life.
Beyond the magnificent towering window, sunlight splays on the edges of the darkness and begins to consume the black with light. It’s a stunning experience to watch and I’m reminded of the beauty that is everywhere in peace, and nowhere in war.
Trading my cup for a page of the book, I begin to read, and I gobble up the words on the page, wishing for magic that might place it all in my head. After what must be two hours of studying, I set my book aside. How can this ancient text conflict with all that I know of the Book of Life? I’m confused and I wish so much that my mother was here now, that I could seek her guidance and insight.
My stomach growls hungrily and I set the book aside, deciding I’ve had enough reading and far too little food. I push to my feet, stretch, and blink to the kitchen, the centerpiece of which is a sleek island of marble and stainless steel, the floors a dark brown of many tones. I don’t immediately see Toren, but I hear his voice, and my stomach knots with nerves.
Someone is here.
I cross to the opposite side of the island, the city under the glow of sunshine at this point, and find Toren sitting at a round table, with another vampire across from him. Both vampires arewatching me, obviously aware of my presence before I ever came into view. The other man is big, of course, his blond hair long enough to be tied at his nape. “Satima,” Toren greets, and both vampires stand, as he adds, “this is Stefan, my marshall of armed forces, and my closest friend.”
I close the space between me and them, and Stefan inclines his chin. “Princess Satima, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Satima, please. I really don’t want to be a princess right now for all kinds of reasons.”
Stefan laughs. “You too, huh?”
My gaze slides to Toren, a knit to my brow, a question in my eyes. “I have said on more than one occasion I need a break from being king. Not a long one. Just a break.”
“I think I can only now begin to sympathize as to what a burden a thousand years as king might bring.”
“Just shy of nine hundred,” he amends. “My father died when I was one hundred and eleven and my mother refused the throne.” I bite back so many questions about his parents as he motions me forward. “Come sit.”
Allowing my curiosity over Toren’s past to wait, I let it go for now, claiming a seat to Toren’s left. Both of the vampires sit and Toren offers me his goblet. “You should drink. You need to stay well hydrated in the days before your return to Ravengale.”
I nod and sip, aware of a look shared between the two before Stefan explains. “It’s strange to see a gale drink blood.”
“It’s strange to be a gale who drinks blood, but I guess it’s a testament to me not being who I once thought I was.”
“I know a little about being something I didn’t think I was as well,” Stefan comments, sipping from his goblet. “I’m half fae.”
My eyes go wide. “What? How?” I shake my head. “What?”
“King Alister saw me when I was a mere boy and knew immediately. He said there was no tolerance for crossbreeds in his world and dropped me on Toren’s doorstep. Thankfully, Toren took me in.”
My eyes meet Toren’s. “How long ago?”
“I was a hundred years into my rule.”
“You seem to like misfits like me.”
“You’re not misfits at all,” he assures me. “You’re the thread that brings us together.”
“Not when we’re shunned by our own kind,” I say grimly, “and we both know that’s what my father would do if he knew my truth.”
In that moment, another towering vampire appears on the opposite side of the table, his hair dark, and to his shoulders, his white T-shirt hugging an excess of muscle. He’s bulkier than Toren or Stefan, and somehow less graceful. The guy of a warrior who just blasts his way into his enemy, while Toren and Stefan, read more calculated. “What the fuck is Tabby doing, Toren?” the newcomer demands, all eyes on his kind. “She’s teaching yoga to our new recruits. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of.”
