Page 38 of Of Shadows and Blood

The night drags on and I have to shake my feet to stave off any numbness. Some of Cedric’s court begin to stumble out of the doors, snorting and tripping as they carry on down the hall. How much alcohol does it take to inebriate a vampyr? They – we – obviously feel pain and fatigue, amongst other things, but this is curious to me.

“In and out,” I whisper to myself as I pick up the skirts of my dress and begin my calculated walk to the open doors. The armoire in the cottage has no lack of style so I chose the most modest, practical option should I choose to keep this with me on my travels. The fabric truly is fine and the bodice fits well enough, though I could fill it out better. Perhaps with time.

The twin guards at the door are idly chatting with each other until I cross the threshold without their permission. They stiffen and bow immediately, shocked at my presence.

The thing about my current situation is that nearly everyone confirms the story Cedric and the cess tell me.

Elivienne, me, Liv, has been gone for years.

I can practically smell the shock of the crowd as I try to slip in between them unnoticed. They don’t make it easy, no, everyone stops speaking and dancing. I curse under my breath and duck my head, aiming for a wall to wither against.

Where is Sawyer? Turning, I try to find his golden hair, but I can’t see much of anything.

“She’s here,” someone gasps. A glass drops and another person says, “When was he going to announce her health?” I shake off the flurry of commentary and try to snake between bodies.

At the back of the room someone steps from behind a large table and everyone shifts their attention. I pause and look up.

Him.

I hear a muffled beat, likely from my heart’s race, loud inside my head. The crowd can’t help but look back and forth between us before bowing simultaneously as if I was royalty. Cedric remains frozen on the small dais, unmoving.

“My lady…” An elaborately dressed woman with two bows upon her bosom curtsies low. “We are so delighted to see you.” The air is tight and silent; my words escape me. Someone cues the musicians to begin again and slowly eyes peel from me and back to each other, idle gossip flowing. My feet catch on my dress, causing me to bump into a male dressed in blue finery. He bows heavily in apology and steps back to give ample room as if he was the one who slighted me.

Cedric appears before me suddenly, as if his shadows floated him over.

“Liv,” he murmurs low, a space opening up for us. “Come. My court has not yet been told of your recovery.” He wants to keep me hidden.

“But I’m not yet recovered. So, go ahead and tell them Elivienne is gone, tell them that she does not remember the monster of a king she now knows,” I fire back. “But I’ll take my leave anyway.” I’m fishing for a fight – I know I am – but I can’t stop.

He leans into my ear. “Believe me when I say you don’t want this attention right now.”

I motion with wide arms to the scenario playing out. He straightens and cracks his neck to the side before smoothing his fitted jacket.

“Everyone,” his voice commands the audience, “Lady Elivienne.” He sweeps an arm informally before me and I back up half a step into him. “Please welcome her good health back to court.”

Goblets rise, as does the volume of the chatter, and a servant passes us two cups of our own filled with blood. My stomach demands it upon scent, but I play the part and raise my hand. Everyone cheers and imbibes as we do.

Cedric’s hand moves to the small of my back, urging me to a door in the shadows and I firm my feet. A few people whisper as I step out of his hold smoothly. “Get your hands off of me,” I bite, voice low. Cedric simply smiles wider.

An image to protect, I see.

“Okay, then let’s take a seat.” He tenses.

“Not a prisoner. Not taking orders.”

“Now,” he demands again, moving forward an inch. Everyone is judging this little slice of royal drama. I can only imagine what they are thinking of this exchange.

My hands clench at my sides and I turn on my heel to leave, sparing him my anger for whatever godsdamned reason. His hand grabs my forearm and I whirl to him, letting him see my rage. “Go to hell, Cedric.”

One second we are standing in the crowd, the next we are behind the large banquet table on the dais. My world tilts on its axis and I grip the wooden seat.

“How dare you?”

Cups of blood and wine are spread across the table, but I ignore my growing needs and shove against his hold.

“Let me go, Cedric,” I demand, but his grip stays firm.

“You and your questions. My turn. What are you doing here?” He nods at the musicians, who pick up their melody in an attempt to turn the crowd back to themselves. So slowly, with the movement of an asp, I look up to him and shift out of his grip but he holds firm. “Release me, final warning.” The song picks up louder and the court slowly tears their gazes away. “Is this not the life of a prisoner, your highness? Am I not to eat?”