‘Ravenko,’ my mother says under her breath.
Traitor number two. How nice that they’re all here together, apart from Darkwing. Apparently, they couldn’t be bothered to make the ocean crossing. I spot a familiar face ahead and try not to sigh. Artos Ravenna.
‘Emelia.’ He bends low over my hand. ‘You look different from the last time I saw you.’
‘Do I? Perhaps it’s because I’m older.’ I keep my voice cool. Nope. Not here for your bullshit today.Filthy humans. I remember his scorn, when he thought I couldn’t hear what he was saying.
‘Stella was asking after you,’ he says, his smile ingratiating. ‘I know she misses you.’
I’m surprised my cousin isn’t here, to be honest. She loves a party, and this is a big one. I’m not sorry she’s absent, though. ‘That’s strange,’ I reply. ‘I don’t miss her at all.’
The crowd murmurs, my mother smiling as she pulls me away from a scowling Artos. We stop to greet more people, all of whom seem pleased to speak to me. It’s a beginning.
Jennie, resplendent in sapphire-blue silk, emerges from the crowd, dropping into a deep curtsey. My instinct is to raise her to her feet, to tell her she doesn’t need to do that. But I know I can’t. Even though this magnificent palace is her home, she’s still a subject of Raven.
All part of a show.
It’s like the symbols, red moons and dark ravens, evergreen pines. Everything I do here has meaning. It feels like I’m walking a knife edge, that any slip will mean sudden death, my grasp on power a tenuous, fragile thing. No wonder people want to challenge the throne. My father’s hand comes to the back of my waist, light as a feather.
‘Jennie.’ I offer my hand. She rises, graceful as a dancer. ‘Thank you. The evening is lovely, as is your home.’
A sigh ripples through the crowd. Music starts, vampires swaying to the sinuous beat. Doors open on one side of the ballroom and a group of blood dancers, wearing little more than gold paint and glitter, enter the room, mingling with the crowd.
‘A good start,’ my father murmurs as he guides me towards a grouping of velvet chairs, my mother at my other side.
‘I agree,’ she says, whisper-quiet. ‘Vindhof seemed especially amenable.’
‘I’m going to see if Ravenko can?—’
There are gasps, exclamations from the other end of the room. I stop talking. Everything, even the musicians, seems to pause. My father moves in front of me. Then steps to the side, glancing at my mother. ‘Well, this is unexpected.’
What? What’s unexpected? I try to remain cool, to not crane my head. The commotion is growing.
Then I see him.
ChapterTwenty
PRINCE OF DARKNESS
Atall vampire approaches, his movements sinuous, like a panther stalking through the crowd. He’s dressed in black, a suit fitted tightly to his lean, muscular form, a V of bare chest visible under the well-cut jacket. His hair is dark, cropped short.
Holy shit.
He’s beautiful. Dark eyes under straight brows, a long straight nose and full lips, strong cheekbones and jaw.
Several vampires follow him, in an arrow formation. They’re also wearing dark suits, the women with trailing gossamer skirts under their sharp jackets. All as beautiful as he is.
Jennie hurries over to greet him but he dismisses her with a wave of his hand. He comes to a stop in front of me. One of his followers, a woman with shoulder-length blonde hair and piercing green eyes, winks at me. He holds out his hand, a smile curving his handsome mouth. No bowing. No deference. I have no idea what to do, so I take it.
‘Emelia Raven.’ His voice is deep and softly accented. ‘Allow me to introduce myself.’ He inclines his head, light catching a single jade earring hanging from one earlobe. ‘I am Joaquin, prince of Jaguar. I come to offer you congratulations on your upcoming reign.’ He glances around the room. ‘And support.’
Holy shit.
Aside from the political implications, Joaquin is breathtaking. My lips part. Music plays, somewhere in the background, but all I see is him. Power meeting power. The Raven and the Jaguar.
He smiles, revealing fangs that are slightly dropped. ‘Shall we dance? They’re waiting for us.’
The crowd draws back, leaving an empty space. He pulls me close, his scent, violet mixed with sweet musk, curling around me, his hand coming to my waist. My breath catches. He swings me into the centre of the room, so my skirt flies out like gossamer clouds, light catching the sequins. I tilt my head, one arm held long and free, the other around his neck. I catch a glimpse of our reflection, like twirling figures in a music box, him tall and strong in his black suit, me languid and graceful in cloud-grey, the room glittering as though filled with fireflies.
