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“I have been nothing but honest with you. I truly had no plans to stop your escape. You and your friend could be on your way into the forest now, but, well.” He danced his hand in the air.

“I need to find Sebastian.”

He pulled me back, turning my body against his so I could watch the main doors to the room, and the clock chimed twelve. Loud chimes pierced through the music, and with them came a bloodcurdling scream. “It’s time for the main event.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

I wrestled against Kalon, smelling his champagne breath from over my shoulder. The eyes of the sangaree were not on us. In their hazed states, they could barely focus on each other.

A dark beat was carried in the music's undertone, ensnaring people’s senses, so most danced like no one was watching. Their hands slid over each other, making mine and Sebastian’s moment appear as a blip in a sea of nudity and decadence.

Alcohol sprayed over the uneven ground, splattering up the front of my dress as a mortal dancer dropped her drink, shattering glass on the stone. I noticed her neck first, defaced with a dozen bite marks leading down to one over her left breast. Then, shrugging, she walked away from the mess under the draped arm of a vampire.

The tents were little more than for show now, with the drinks lowering inhibitions, so there was little point in hiding anything. Vampires of the most eloquence embraced their shadow sides, and I wondered what else the king had laced into the alcohol.

Kalon’s long nails dug into my hips, sure to leave a mark under the sheer fabric slicking around my trembling body.

“Get off me,” I stormed, earning only a chuckle tickling against the top of my ear. I was sick and tired of being pulled around, fed on, and forced under the will of lesser people.

My darkness purred inside, and I called for it, thrumming my powers to the surface until they ached my fingertips, begging for release.

“I said get off.”

Shockwaves rippled from my hands as I whispered a touch against his, jolting him backward. My lips curved up when his disbelieving gaze found me, realization swimming in those dark-honey pools.

I took a step forward, and he flinched under my touch. Then, sliding my arms around his neck, grappling my fingers around the back of his head, I allowed the full depth of my magic to envelop us both, frying his red curls in a blaze of smoke and flame.

His scream splashed through the room, pinching the music and quieting the musicians. Sangaree fell around us, leaving an empty circle in our space as sobriety reached through their shocked expressions, the haze lifting.

Sargon’s hands were on my shoulders first, wrenching me backward. Kalon’s skin melted on my fingertips, sending the stench of rotting flesh around us. “What did you do?” My father’s thick voice hit me as he slammed me against the ground, knocking the air from my lungs.

“Ask your brother,” I hiccupped, bathing in the dominant energy quaking in my bones, feeling power emanating from my core. I had never felt so fearless and satisfied in the knowledge that I had hurt him, and even more so that for once, I could protect myself against my enemies.

Velda rushed to Kalon’s aid, whooshing past me in a gust of air. Propping myself up from the floor, I half sat up, peering around Kalon to Azia, who watched me from between both thrones, intrigue burning in his expression.

My mom was already gone from his side, and when I blinked, forcing my eyelids open to a starry vision, she was at mine. “Take my hand.” She slipped her other arm around my waist, lifting me to standing.

I leaned up against her, catching my breath. A second bloodcurdling scream tore through the party, and the music stopped altogether. Only this time, the sound hadn’t come from Kalon.

“Sebastian.” His name followed a gasp from my lips as I found my footing.

Uneasiness crept over me as I followed the rest of the room into the foyer, pushing my way through the crowded scene until I fell out into reason for all the commotion. A woman with tight, black curls tinged red from the blood soaking through them lay at the bottom of the staircase, her leg twisted at an unnatural angle. Crimson seeped from her skull, running rivers into cracks in the stone floor.

I raised my fingers to my lips, looking around for any sign of Erianna, Sebastian, or Zach, but none of them were near. A few feet from the dead woman, a bent tiara of white gold glittered, telling me this was the body of the princess of Asland.

A hoard of questions knotted in my mind. The plan was to poison her, not for this violent display, and I wondered if Sebastian’s blood ever made it past her lips. Somehow, in all the plotting and scheming, I had forgotten about the mortal woman tied up in the middle of this. Closing my eyes, I understood how easy it was to disregard the value of life when it was talked about in the same way as a prop amongst a plot to get what we wanted. Had I become just as much of a monster as everyone else in the castle?

Bile burned my throat, stinging my tongue as I held my hand over my stomach. The princess didn’t appear to be turning into anything other than the corpse she was. Her wish to become a vampire was gone, and the weight of her death hung over my head like a dark cloud. Velda and Gwen pushed me out of the way, dropping to their knees. Velda pressed her fingers into the blood, then lifted them to her lips. Astor’s arm brushed mine as he watched them, his hardened glare difficult to ignore.

“She has vampire blood in her veins,” Velda announced to the room.

Inhaling sharply, I tried to move back, feeling desperate to find my friends when a path was made between the sangaree for Sargon and my mom, who wore a false crown with no power. Her fingers twitched, meeting mine for a second, a gesture that ballooned my heart. I needed her help, especially knowing that Sebastian could be in trouble. I’d sent him up to the staircase, and Kalon had wanted that to happen.

This was all a part of his ploy, and I’d tangled Sebastian in the center.

Velda looked over her shoulder after examining the body and shook her head. “She has bruises on her forearms.”

Sargon’s expression darkened, his lip twitching as his gaze climbed up the wide staircases, looking through the space leading to the top floor. “Someone must have thrown her.”

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