Page 60 of Xantera
Where are we going? A private room where he’ll take my blood and then leave me to my own devices? For as many times as I’ve dreamed about being Chosen, I’ve never given any thought to what would actually happen once I walked through those front doors. Will it be quick, or will the process take a long time? Will I feel myself fade right away?
I steal a glance behind us to check if any other Guardians are following with their own Chosen Ones, but as far as I can see, we’re alone.
“Don’t worry, Saskia.” The Third Guardian’s voice slides out like a snake next to my ear. “We’ll be to the dining room in no time.”
I jolt at the realization that the Guardian knows myname.
They know everything about us, I told Odette months ago. But for some reason, I didn’t think it was possible for them to actually keep track of every one of their citizens. Are vampire memories exceptionally superior, or—
No, Lucan says, his voice rumbling up my body from where that necklace is wrapped around my thigh.This was premeditated. The son of a bitch must have planned to choose you long before tonight.
If tones could kill, the Third Guardian would be a splinter of bones at my feet already.
But unfortunately, that’s not how murder works, and I’m not even sure the Third Guardian’s bones are breakable. His hand against my back, forcing me forward, feels more like stone thanskin. And suddenly, tears prick my eyes for the first time since I was Chosen.
My mother walked this same hallway. She took these same steps. And now, I am heading toward her same doom.
Except she didn’t possess this necklace.
Does he know?I wonder helplessly, not daring to steal a glance at the Guardian over my shoulder, although I feel his presence like a magnet—not a force pulling me toward him, but something that repels every atom in my body.Does he know we’re…
No, Lucan assures me.He would rip the necklace off you right now if he knew you had it.
At that, my step is a fraction lighter. Lucan can stay. I can keep him through whatever I’m about to endure.
I’m yours,he affirms, though something in his voice cracks. Tell me what you need from me, Saskia. Tell me how I can help.
I wish I could answer him, but there’s nothing he can really do from the other side of the Wall anyway. Which means it’s up to me to get through this. I’m the damsel in distress, but I can save myself—the male between my thighs is just an added benefit.
Keep on being the same asshole you’ve always been and I’ll do just fine, I reply with my chin tilted a fraction higher. Because the catacombs wouldn’t have been possible without his snarky voice in my mind, goading and guiding me forward. He’s not the light in the dark, exactly, but the shadows at my feet, the thing that reminds me how brave I really am in the dark.
And if I can deal with a Monster in my head, I can deal with this.
The hallway finally splits wide open into a sort of antechamber, two massive spiral staircases swooping up and around to a second floor, a polished wooden doorway between them. Looking up, I find a domed ceiling high above my head, the same dome I’ve looked at from afar for twenty-three years. Except it looks even more enormous on the inside.
Split into twelve sections, each depicts a painting of one of the Twelve Guardians, and the intricate gold swirls catch the lightfrom the windows in all directions. The Third Guardian’s portrait is the most intense, peering down at me like an all-seeing god.
Next to me in actual form, he pushes me toward that doorway, and my resolve tightens into curling fists.
“I can walk in myself, thank you,” I tell him politely—though there’s a bit of bite to my voice as I flash a stiff smile over my shoulder.
The Third Guardian’s smile tightens, too, but he removes his hand from my back and gestures. “Of course. After you, then. We wouldn’t want to be late, would we?”
His red eyes hook into me as I breeze past him and stifle my smile. Let him be mad. It actually brings me a little joy.
Good girl, Lucan says.Keep defying the bastard.
My nerves light up with his appreciation—quickly smothered by a flare of shock as I step into this new room and my senses are assaulted yet again.
A table spreads from one end of the room to the other, longer and grander than any table I’ve ever seen. Just like carpet, I’ve never given much thought to the possibility that tables could be anything other than thin metal squares on four spindly legs. But this one stands on clawed legs made of dark mahogany with a beautiful lace cloth of some sort draped over it.
Yet hardly any part of its surface is even visible under the weight of all thefood.
Silver platters of steaming chicken and ham and steak. Ornate bowls of rice and pudding and soup. Little glass plates overflowing with grapes and other colorful fruit I’ve never seen before. Goblets filled with a burgundy liquid that looks too strong to be tea. And so many other types of food or drink I wouldn’t be able to name even if I tried. The smells wafting up make my mouth water against my will.
The sheer enormity of it makes me dizzy in comparison to the perfect little proportions everyone else gets back in the city. Who would ever need this much abundance? What purpose does itserve? And why is it laid out before us right now, when we’re supposed to be giving our blood to the Guardians? Do they need to eat regular food before they sip from us?
I blink for several seconds before I realize there are already several others in the room.
