No. There’s no way a human can survive as my thrall. Especially in my sire’s court. Though the bond itself is a promise of nourishment from the thrall to the vampire, it elevates the thrall to the same social standing as their partner. Frost doesn’t know it, but if he walked through the manor doors with my bond and my sire’s approval, he’d be my equal. A prince among vampires, with all the duties and expectations that accompany the role.
Yet Cain won’t approve of him. Not while he’s human, anyway.
Frost must be turned. Then I’ll make him my thrall in truth, as only an immortal can be, and introduce him to my sire.
Cain will accept him then. Frost has the sort of clever, devious mind that my sire admires, and the courage and fire of a warrior, despite his low birth.
So why does unease skitter down my spine as I stare at the red and black dress on the bed?
My confidence fades as I trail my fingers over the fabric.
“You’ve got this, Evie,” I whisper to myself. “It’s just a dress, another of his moods…” and then Frost and I can continue where we left off.
The maids don’t respond or comment as they slide the gown over my head. I silently wish for my armour as they secure the tiny ties along my waist and tuck them in. Velvet caresses my skin, the lace panels showing teasing glimpses of skin that make me cringe.
I’m too exposed, and I don’t like it.
To call the dress immodest would be too kind. I can’t even have my normal linen petticoats underneath. If I move too much, the sides of my breasts play peek-a-boo with the lace.
This calculated political seduction is Callie and Bella’s scene. Not mine.
I’m a warrior. He’s never said as much, but I’ve always believed it’s the reason I’m Cain’s favourite. He sees much of himself in me, and I’m able to understand his thoughts in a way my sisters can’t.
So why is he doing this?
Before I can figure it out, the doors open, revealing Immy, dressed as my mirror opposite.
Cain’s chosen a shapeless, peach gown that covers every inch of her skin except her face. It clashes horribly with her bright, frizzy hair, which her maids have tried—and failed—to tame into a chignon at the base of her neck.
The outfit is just another way to humiliate her, and we both know it. Her eyes are already watering, but it gets worse as she compares our clothes.
“He hates me,” she whispers, hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Why does he hate me?”
I don’t have an answer for her. I never do. For some reason, Immy is the daughter Cain despises. Not shallow Callie, mad Morwen, stern Bella, or even prickly me, but sweet, unassuming Immy. My youngest sister always takes it personally. She tries to prove herself to him at every opportunity.
It’s part of the reason she started following me around in the first place. Trying to imitate me.
She thought copying the favourite would make her better.
It just makes Cain hate her more.
“Does it matter?” I ask. “He’ll never change.”
She pulls herself together with a strength of will I’ve always admired, brushing aside the unshed tears with the lacy cuff of her gown. No matter how many times Immy is kicked down by Cain, she always gets back up again and never resents any of us for his preferential treatment.
It takes a quiet sort of resilience to do that.
It’s why she’s my favourite sister.
We don’t dare to dawdle; we stride side by side through the corridors of Cain’s manor. The king of the vampires holds court in the throne room, and today there’s more of a crowd than usual. The courtiers are silent as we pass them. The dark colours of the silk and satin they wear blend with the rich tones of the corridor like they’re trying to camouflage themselves against it. Anything to avoid attracting our sire’s attention.
This isn’t normal.
Gossip, fashion, and intrigue are the lifeblood of these vampires.
Their silence is more than just interested. It’santicipatory.
I can practicallyhearthem holding their breath as we stride through the open double doors. The rest of the manor has had electric lighting for over a decade now, but Cain prefers the softer gas lights in here. They cast flickering shadows across the room and never fully manage to dispel the gloom caused by the dark wood panelling and heavy drapes.
