My dress was ridiculous.
Final preparations for the coronation were almost complete. Chairs lined the edges of the Great Hall for the ceremony and would be pushed aside to add tables for the feast. Massive platters of food rested between hot ovens to stay warm. There had been a small rehearsal and most of the guests had already arrived.
The council had avoided me since Zavier informed them of the surrender. They were insulted. The council traditionally approved a new ruler’s coronation and I wasn’t sure even the king’s decree would change that custom. If the council rejected my appointment tonight, all would be lost. It would cause a rebellion and the vampires could pick off the unruly crowd. No need for a battle, my people would walk into their own slaughter. I hoped the council would see what was at stake beyond hurt feelings.
I was the last to get ready. I took a bath, which was much too short, and washed the grime and blood away. Saffa combed my hair, wrapped it into elegant, twisting braids, stuck them with diamond pins that caught the light, and brushed rouge and kohl on my face.
Then they brought out the dress.
Air hissed through my lips as Saffa and Elaine pulled on the silk cords that wrapped around my chest. The fabric tightened, straining my ribs.
“I don’t know if it fits,” Elaine whispered, barely six inches from my ear.
“I can wear a different dress.” I suggested.
“Nonsense.” Saffa pulled on the stubborn laces again. “It’s tradition to wear a beautiful, expensive dress to your coronation.” Pull. “The dress is a symbol of sophistication and wealth.” Pull. “Plus, this one was Queen Estelle’s.”
My mother hadn’t had a coronation, as my father was already king when they married. This had been her wedding dress.
It was broken into three layers. Beneath the dress, a tight slip convinced my body that it didn’t need so much space. Over that, two petticoats scratched at my legs. The base dress was white silk, sleeveless, and corseted against my chest. It wrapped around my waist and flared into an elegant A-line. Hems embroidered with golden thread shone and diamonds sewn in here and there sparkled with every movement.
The top layer waited on my bed—an overdress of pure golden lace, woven so delicately that a strong breeze might unwind the fabric. It was long sleeved, would button under my breasts, and then fall against each side of the silken skirt all the way to the floor. The delicate fabric would probably rip the moment I stuffed my arms into it.
“There!” Saffa tied the last lace. She brushed her hands down the dress, smoothing any wrinkles, and fluffed the petticoats. We looked at my reflection in the mirror.
Elaine squinted her eyes and tilted her head.
Saffa pressed her lips together.
“Maybe it’s the eyes,” Saffa said.
“It could be the hair,” Elaine said. “I’m not sure I like the side braids.”
They reached for me, but I ducked out of the way.
“It’s fine,” I said. “It will look better with the lace overdress.”
The girls smiled and nodded.
We all knew it wouldn’t look better with the lace. The dress wasn’t the problem, I was. Queen Estelle was dainty and petite and her dress wasn’t meant to fit on my five-foot-eight inch frame. My mother had never held a sword and I used to practice twice a week with the soldiers. My arms were stronger and thicker than hers, my waist straighter than hourglass. I would have looked better in my armor, but my mother would have clicked her tongue at me for even thinking such a thing.
“Please find Zavier and tell him to come talk to me,” I said.
The girls bowed and left the room.
I squinted at the mirror, trying to see my mother. Even wearing her clothes and about to take her title, I stood alone in the mirror. Familiar bitterness toward my parents blossomed.
They left us. They left me. They took everything we needed to survive and ran away in the night. There hadn’t been a note. They hadn’t even said goodbye. We had eaten dinner together and the next morning they never arrived for breakfast. Anger burned a hot fire inside me and every thought added wood to the flames.
Sorrow mixed amongst the embers and ashes. My soul ached that they would not be here tonight. My mother should be the one tying my dress and assuring me I looked wonderful. My father should pass his crown, instead of the circlet perching on the pedestal we had ground into the raised dais for the ceremony. This should be a happy, joyous, anticipated moment. Instead, it rained with dread and finality.
Hot tears poked at the corners of my eyes. I brushed them away before they could spill. Saffa didn’t have time to reapply the rouge.
“Princess?” The door creaked open and Zavier peeked inside. He scanned my face and his brows tightened. He hurried toward me and I let him wrap me in a firm hug until the pain lessened.
“Why are you crying?” he asked.
I pulled back. “I’m not crying.”
“Of course not,” he said smoothly. “Why are you upset then?”
“I’m not upset either.”
“Whatever you say, Your Majesty.” He mocked me with a bow. I laughed and poked him in the chest. His eyes danced, but an edge of darkness lined them. He was worried about me.
“You are a vision, my princess,” he said. “I remember when Queen Estelle wore this gown to her wedding. I dare say, you might rival her loveliness.”
“I can always count on you for a laugh, Zavier. Has security been tightened in the Hall?”
Zavier gave a stern nod. “We’ve doubled guards at all entrances. If more assassins appear, we’ll have a forewarning at least.”
I tried to smile, but feared the expression turned to more of a grimace. Rogue assassins had become an unfortunate problem, desperate to end my rule before it even began. They appeared to know my schedule well and attacked in unexpected places. Zavier worried we had a traitor in the castle. I didn’t disagree, nor was I surprised. In my experience, people tended to be more ruthless than one may expect.
I didn’t need uninvited assassins trying to kill me at my coronation. The vampires would be enough to contend with.
“Did our guests of honor arrive safely?” I asked.
“Yes, my men and I met the king and his entourage outside the gate. We used the underground tunnels and staff passages into the castle. Nobody saw us,” he said. “Although I would rather have left them outside.”
“If we left them outside, they would catapult their way in.”
He waved his hand, brushing away my statement. “The king is a very…stubborn man. It will be interesting to see how this plays out. We may all die yet, coaxed by him to do the deed ourselves.”
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He’s very provoking.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You will, Princess. He wants to meet with you before the ceremony.”
Of course he did.
“Please let him know I’ll be there shortly. Send Saffa and Elaine back in. They have to persuade that jacket to fit me.”
Zavier looked at the golden jacket spread across the bed and back at me.
“I’ll wish them luck.”
My steps were silent on the stone floor as I led Saffa and Elaine to the formal reception room on the ground level. The benefit of wearing a dress I was too tall for, was that I couldn’t wear high heels. The girls had slipped silk slippers onto my feet and I resolved they would be my only footwear from now on. Comfortable and flexible, they might be better in combat than my boots.
A guard opened the door to the staff passage behind the Great Hall. The Hall was full of guests and I didn’t have time to mingle. The narrow spaces fit two people side-by-side and roamed the entirety of the castle. An obscure door opened at the end of the passage and we tumbled into a well-lit walkway behind the Great Hall. We turned right, toward the reception room.
A pair of soldiers guarded the wooden doors. The hinges were secured in the stone by sheer force and maybe some ancient magic. The guards opened the door.
I smiled.
Unlike the small one in my suites, this reception room was very large. White marble floors matched the Great Hall. My mother never let rugs cover a single inch. Two banquet tables sat at each end of the room, a tall throne at the head. A circle of couches gathered in the center, framed by a simple fireplace. A piano, cellos, and several violins scattered about. One never knew when a guest would request entertainment.
Four strangers crowded on the couch, backs to the fireplace, where they could watch the rest of the room. Zavier moved to stand to the left.
Rayhan lounged at the far end of the sofa. The warmth of the fire softened his face, making him look younger. Laugh lines creased his forehead and his full lips appeared eager to smile. He’d propped his feet on the table and held his axe in one hand.
Kadence sat between Rayhan and a woman I did not know. He wore an all black formal military dress uniform, double-breasted jacket, undershirt, and boots. Even the buttons on his uniform were black, although polished to a pristine shine. His dark eyes looked feral, a wild tiger locked in a cage. You can touch me, the tiger said, but you won’t like what happens next.
The king looked me up and down and twisted his lips.
“You’re wearing that?”
I bowed, as low as the constricted fabric would allow.
“It’s a pleasure to welcome you to the Kingdom of Ededen, Your Majesty.” I gestured to my side. “This is Elaine and Saffa, and we are here to make sure everything is ready and comfortable for you tonight.”
King Kadence leaned back.
“This is the head of my personal security, Cynthia.” He gestured to the woman beside him.
Cynthia’s face pinched with distaste. She was Asian descent, black hair falling straight to her knees. A black-and-white dress, flexible enough to fight in, fit her muscled figure, and a headband gripped her hair—tactical choices no doubt. Her hands trembled, as though they weren’t used to being empty. My instincts said she was dangerous. She looked small and harmless, but if a confrontation started, I would choose the large, muscular man beside her as my opponent. I knew what to expect from him.
“This is Renee. She will be joining your personal staff after this evening.” Renee was less remarkable with a plain face, flat eyes, and a barrel-shaped body lacking muscle tone. She wore a shift dress and flat, black shoes. She looked normal and boring, exactly as a spy should.
She stood and bowed.
“I am eager to serve you, Your Majesty.” Her voice was light, monotoned.
“Thank you.” I turned to the king. “Has Zavier finished reviewing the ceremony schedule with you?”
King Kadence eyed Zavier. My First Seneschal’s face was rosy, and bore the same tight smile that he wore in battle right before someone died. I didn’t need anybody to die tonight.
“We were just discussing that,” the king said. “When does the begging-for-the-lives-of-your-people part happen?”
“I thought that requirement was fulfilled before we signed the contract.”
“What time do you grovel on your knees and thank me for my endless mercy?”
The same time I shove my sword through your heart.
Lips pressed, I tried to keep my expression blank, but a sliver of anger tightened my face. “I haven’t scheduled that in yet. Did you have a time in mind?”
“How many blood sacrifices have you prepared?”
“Zavier has a list of volunteers to donate blood this evening. Please let him know if the need arises.” The king’s questions searched for a fight, but I forbid that from happening. Nothing would damage this surrender. My people’s lives depended on it.
“Have you prepared the seventy virgins we will carry away in the darkness after the coronation?”
I raised a brow. “If you need help finding a woman, Your Majesty, although the practice is discouraged, there are a few underground brothels in the city. I’m sure you could afford to pay to take someone home for the night.”
The king stood, quick, graceful.
Zavier tensed and turned toward me.
My ladies, both trained in armed and unarmed combat, reached for their weapons.
I held a hand up. Please, do not kill anybody tonight.
The king stalked toward me with measured and precise steps. He was a silent predator, creeping above unaware prey. He stopped inches away. My dress suddenly felt much too tight. I couldn’t breathe. I conjured my strength and met his eyes, afraid of what I would find in their depths. They flickered with a spark of amusement. Underneath, peeling back layers, the rage and hate burned hot.
“That’s not very diplomatic to say to your new overlord.”
I bit my tongue. He was right. Zavier warned me and I still let the king under my skin. My magic recognized his proximity as a threat and flared up. It brushed against him and licked the power on his flesh. It twisted and wrapped around his body, eager for me to attack, but beneath the call to battle, it gave an almost content purr. I pressed my lips and resisted tilting my head. I’d expected the magic to scream in hate at the king’s presence, but it was…pleased?
King Kadence glanced down, then back at me. He raised his eyebrows. The magic moved too quick and the vampire felt it entwine around him. He was waiting, challenging my next move. I toyed with the options. I could bind, immobilize, or shock him, all of which would end badly.
I let the coils fall. The magic retreated and I stepped away from the wall of his body and bowed.
“My apologies, Your Majesty.”
He turned back to the couch, but I caught the expression on his face. He looked disappointed.
“The ceremony is fine,” he said, his back to me. “I’ll see you there.”
I bowed again even though he couldn’t see it. I would focus on being more proper. My life, and more importantly, the lives of my people, depended on it.