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Ibrahim waved his hand dismissively. “Your time has passed.”
I chimed in before things turned ugly. “Royalty is respected anywhere,” I pointed out. “Even with vampires. She would only need to marry into the bloodline.”
He scoffed. “Are you offering your hand?”
I brushed a gentle touch against Olivia’s hand. “I have my wife already, and I am not a blood prince, but Kalon…”
Kalon interrupted, the muscle in his jaw feathering, “Is already spoken for. However, my son, Niall, is available.”
Niall had no real authority. He had no crown or was recognized as royalty. He was the adopted son, but Kalon glanced at me with a look to tell me to keep that part a secret. “Yes, Niall,” I said. “He is a noble prince,” I said. “He will make a fine husband for your beautiful daughter.” The last part wasn’t a lie. They were two egomaniacs who deserved each other.
Ibrahim paused, stroking his black, groomed beard reaching around his chin, up to his sideburns. I parted my lips, but Sargon put a hand up, silencing me before I could speak. After a long minute, Ibrahim nodded. “It is the only plan I can see that will work,” he admitted solemnly. “Bring this Prince Niall to me and begin your preparations for the wedding. She will marry in Asland, for my people to see. This Niall and all of you will attend.”
Kalon spoke. “It would be an honor to visit Asland again. We are most grateful for your mercy and understanding.”
Ibrahim humphed, then looked at his daughter. “You will return home in one month so we have enough time to make the preparations. In the meantime, I must decide how we explain your becoming a vampire without confirming the suspicion that vampires can be made.”
She bowed her head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
I butted in as Kalon started to talk. “You can say only those of royal blood or marrying a royal can be turned, in a special ritual not available to any other mortal?”
Sargon nodded, his eyes lighting up. “Yes. We cannot let the truth be known.”
Ibrahim agreed. “People whisper rumors, but we must keep them as nothing more than folklore.” He turned to Penelope. “You will come home as an engaged woman with your husband. Do nothing else to humiliate your family further.”
She nodded, and a couple of unruly curls which had escaped dropped around her forehead as she cast her eyes downward.
I looked at the King of Asland, noticing he’d adopted the term immortal instead of vampire. It sounded more regal. “Is there anything we can do in the meantime?”
“Yes,” he replied. “None of what we discussed today must leave this room.”
Sargon spoke this time, his fingers adjusting the rubied crown on his red waves. “Everything said here today is top secret. I trust every person in this room.”
“Hmm.” Ibrahim stood. He gave me a curt bow of his head, then strode to the door.
The door swung shut behind him and Kalon wrinkled his nose. “It seems the Aslandian king likes you,” he said snidely. “Excuse me, I must tell my son about his new arrangement.”
I moved an inch closer to Olivia, the cushions dipping beneath us. “Liv,” I whispered, and she flinched. I touched the back of my head, pressing a thumb against the skin.
Sargon growled as soon as the king would be out of earshot. “Niall is not a prince. I suppose this means he will now get a crown.”
Kalon’s nostrils flared. “Unfortunately.”
Sargon looked at Olivia. “I must find your mother,” he said and stood. “Do not screw this up, Seraphina,” he warned, and my fist balled. He sped out the door, and Kalon followed without saying goodbye.
“Get me out of here,” Olivia whispered once they were gone. Penelope gestured to the door, tears welling in her eyes, clearly wanting to be alone.
I nodded, sweeping an arm under Olivia’s, walking her out the doors. She probably could have run faster than I could fly, but she wanted to be held. I could tell by the way she clung to me unlike ever before. My heart raced as I took off, flying us up to our bedroom, landing as softly as I could on the carpet.
“I’m sorry,” I started before we opened the door. “About yesterday.” I could still smell the liquor on my breath and took a step away from her. “I know you said you didn’t mean what you said, but I need you to know how I feel, because if there’s a chance there’s any truth at all to what you said, then you should know I do. I…”
She burst into tears before I could finish.
My eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”
Her sobs increased, and she reached out—forme—stealing my next breath. I grabbed her, pulling her into me, cradling her head as she sobbed into my chest. I squeezed her tighter, resting my lips against the top of her head, inhaling the smell of her shampoo. “It’s okay, just tell me what’s wrong,” I hushed as her muscles heaved, her cries muffling her intelligible words. “I can’t hear you, love.”
“D-D-Draven,” she stuttered, putting all her weight on me. “H-he’s…d-d…” She gripped into my t-shirt, tugging it down as her knees buckled.
