‘Did you see the footage of Andrew?’
‘Yeah.’ His voice becomes a growl. ‘I’m glad you shut that down. Otherwise let’s just say the next boatload of vampires he let onto the islands would not be there to hunt.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘For everything. For getting us out today. For listening to me.’
‘I believe in you, Emelia Raven. I believe you’ll make the changes you want to make.’
‘Does that mean you’ll work with me?’
He shakes his head. ‘Not up to me. Reaper cells work as a collective. There’s a hierarchy of command and they’ll all need to be in agreement. I’ll do what I can, of course.’
‘I appreciate that.’
Ira smiles. ‘Did you like it there?’
‘I loved it,’ I say, my mind going back to dappled green woods, to firefly lights and the feeling of sun on my skin. ‘Every moment.’
Weary, I lean against Michael, the van swaying as we head towards the real world once more.
ChapterForty-Eight
AFTERMATH
‘Ihope you understand.’
I knew it would be difficult when I got back home. I came up with a cover story, even though Michael told me it was ridiculous. I don’t care. I won’t expose him to Joaquin’s vengeance.
Ira’s van dropped us at the gatehouse. It was still daylight, so there was time for us to go inside and make sure our stories were aligned. We also may have aligned in other ways, and I made sure to shower thoroughly before trekking across the lawns to the main house. I let myself in through the dancers’ quarters, wanting a moment before facing whatever lay before me. But the chorus of gasps when I appeared, dancers rushing over to hug me, put paid to any hope of respite before the storm hit.
My mother was the first to greet me, flashing down the hallway in a blur of red silk, alerted by the guards who spotted me the moment I stepped out of the dancers’ quarters. ‘Emelia!’ She alternated between shaking me and hugging me, red smearing her cheeks to match her gown. My father arrived a moment later, his expression grave, sorrow in his golden gaze that cut me to the quick.
I apologised, profusely, saying I didn’t mean to be gone so long. That I decided to take a trip to the Safe Zone, then on impulse continued to Stonehenge. I spun a tale of Sophie going missing, weaving truth with lies, and the pressures of my coronation, and needing space. Of how Stonehenge made me feel as though anything was possible, and I wanted to have that feeling again. Michael followed me, I told them, to talk me into coming back. But I always planned to return, to take my crown. I said that several times, with more apologies, eventually breaking down in tears.
I know I hurt them by disappearing again. My mother didn’t feed the entire time I was gone, triggered by memories of my kidnapping. How stupid I’ve been! I only meant to find Sophie, to do something for myself before the yoke of power was placed around my neck. I never meant to be gone for so long, despite how it changed my world.
I hold onto that seed of hope now as I meet with Joaquin in the ballroom. Hope is the one thing that makes how horrible this is worthwhile.
I ask Bertrand to wait outside. He’ll come in, if I need him. I hope I don’t.
‘I don’t understand any of this!’ Joaquin paces up and down, his dark hair rumpled. ‘Why the hell would you take off to what, see some tumbledown stones? How could you leave me like that?Nobodyknew where you were!’
‘I know. It was stupid of me, and irresponsible. Surely you understand, though, the pressures of being the heir? I just needed to get away.’
‘You could have talked to me.’ Joaquin’s voice is raw. ‘Gods, Emelia, we are almost engaged!’
Are we?I try not to frown, wiping my hands down my velvet skirt.
‘I cannot have you thinking you can run off like this, once we’re together!’
Okay, now my eyebrows are raised. ‘I have no plans to run off anywhere. But I want to take my crown as I am and work out for myself what it means to rule. I’m too young to tie myself to anyone yet.’ A lie. My heart is already taken.
Joaquin drops to his knees, taking my hands, resting his face on them as he groans. ‘You were supposed to be my redemption!’ His voice cracks and, when he looks up, there’s blood on my fingers.
Oh God. I kneel as well, my heart aching. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’ I smooth the blood tears from his cheeks, run my hand through his dark hair. ‘I’m so?—’
Before I can finish, he captures my mouth with his, his arms coming around me, bending me back. I respond, despite myself, to his violet and musk scent, the coiled power in his touch. There’s a falling sensation, then I hear Bertrand’s voice.
‘Please put my lady down.’
