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“Olivia, honey. The people see you refusing to conform to their traditions and customs. They already begrudge you as their princess. Don’t push them further away. We are nothing without the loyalty of our subjects. I need you to be accepted by them. Because if you’re not, and you keep rebelling, then….”
“They’ll kill me?”
“Perhaps.” She sat on the end of her bed. “I also must play a part I don’t want. We have to do what we do to survive.”
“What if I don’t care about surviving?”
Her raven hair reflected the sunlight arrowing through the arched windows. “Don’t be silly. If you didn’t care about surviving, you wouldn’t be here, trying. You wouldn’t have agreed to turn. You will wear this trailic.”
“So everyone can gawk at my body?” I shuddered at the thought.
“It’s not like that. Women used to wear nothing before their weddings a century ago. It’s so bruises and bites can’t be hidden to eliminate any signs of abuse that they are being forced into wedlock.”
“Yeah, because vampires are sick.”
“Yes.” Her expression hardened. She seldom showed any compassion or softness on her strong features. Even when I was a child. All I ever heard was how it was important to always appear strong. Any signs of weakness were bad. So I didn’t know why I thought she’d allow me some kindness now.
The idea that the outfit was for our own good was ridiculous, seeing as their blood can cure any injury, and therefore vampires could cover up any abuse. “I think this so-called tradition only exists so they can have another reason to satisfy their lust.”
I wanted nothing more than to wrap a dressing gown around myself and hide away.
“Regardless of the reason, you must try to fit in here. This is a start. I won’t hear another word.”
“Mom!”
“It’s this or nothing at all,” she said with a pained expression, then turned her back to me.
A sob choked up my throat. “Please, don’t do this. I don’t trust any of the men here.”
She stared at the window, arms folded. “Sorry,” she said with a small sigh. “I expect to see you at the party tonight. It’s in your honor, after all.”
“Mom.” My eyebrows furrowed. “Look at me!”
She didn’t move.
“I can’t believe you.” I sucked in a deep breath, my hands shaking.
“Don’t push this anymore,” she warned. “Sargon is at his limit. Draven stays alive by our grace. If you continue to rebel, Sargon will take it out on him. Do you want that?” She spun to face me, her dark stare razor sharp, piercing right through me. “Do you want his death on your hands?”
I swallowed thickly, my chest growing heavier by the second. The thought of him dead-dead, not even a vampire, buried six feet under or burned and sent to the heavens, was too much for my soul to bear. I didn’t need to say anything.
She nodded. We both knew I would not risk Draven’s life, and I hated her for it. I hated how she couldn’t do more to protect him—or me. That she lied to me in the first place about all of this. I hated I felt that way because I loved her so much, and the warmth I needed from her wasn’t there. It never was. So, I at least needed the powerful, take-no-shit mom who always protected me. But, unfortunately, that was lacking, too.
My magic coiled around my center, darkening my emotions as I headed out of the room, slamming the door behind me.
***
After remaining in my room for as long as possible, I walked down to the party. If it wasn’t for the thought of Draven suffering the consequences of me not attending, I wouldn’t go.
I hurried around a corner, taking the long way to the room where the corridors were emptier. Even though everyone would see the half-naked me at the party, I wanted to avoid people as much as possible.
Every room along the long corridors was decorated with red and white roses, midnight-black drapes, and crystals made to glisten like stars. Red floated around my ballet-style shoes as I disturbed the rose petals scattered over the ground. Lights flickered from candles placed inside glass lanterns hanging from the beams above.
Adormai celebrated passion, love, and desire, making it the most erotic and romantic holiday. In Baldoria, many celebrated by planning their weddings on the blessed day, or proposed. Here, the people mostly took it as an opportunity to partake in more orgies. Everywhere I turned, naked bodies were tangled together in moans of passion. I kept walking, not stopping long enough in any room until I reached a wedding.
I paused at the chapel, once used to worship the gods, wondering why they did away with it. We didn’t have chapels or churches in Baldoria. We knew we could worship the gods from anywhere. Perhaps my father or his father before him had come to the same conclusion.
Darkness hung behind the stained-glass windows of the chapel. The candlelight on the tables fractured against the slices of color, forming beautiful scenes of the goddess Salenia bathing in a river. In the window next to her, the god Jaiunere stood naked at a large tree, picking from its fruits and placing them into a basket while several mortals bowed at his feet.
