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Demon shit.I slipped up.
“It is the only thing I know of that could kill a vampire.” It is a lie, of course. We both know that.
Sniffling, she nods—a lie to match. Once, the shimmer in her eyes might have fooled me. “If you care for my prince at all, even a fraction as much as I love him, then I implore you to do this for him.”
Wavering between disgust and shock, it is all I can do to keep my face schooled in a mask of indifference. Every word out of her mouth is deceitful. Somehow, it seemed to slip out unintentionally. Still, I was not prepared to hear her say she loved Alaric outright. And it’s the only part of this conversation I can’t tell if that was genuine or by calculated design.
“Of course, it will only work if you are willing. You cannot be forced or compelled in any way. However, think of the consequences. Because of your actions, Alaric is suffering and will continue to if you refuse.”
As Elizabeth’s words sink in, I understand something I doubt she meant to reveal. She can’t kill me—at least not outright. She would have commanded me, forced it down my throat, or more likely, she would have simply ripped my throat out the minute I came into this room instead of bothering with this farce.
A wave of calm slides over me. Elizabeth wanted to use my heart against me by twisting the truth and shifting the blame. But all she succeeded in doing was showing me her hand.
I reach for the vial and take it, turning it over. The amber glass is warm from the contents. Slowly, I get to my feet.
“May I have some time to think it over?” I ask. Though I have already made my choice, I need her to believe I’ve fallen for at least part of the demon shit she spewed.
And if the ingredients are as rare as she claimed? Well, then, I am more than happy to make them even rarer.
“Take the time you need,” she says, then dismisses me. As I reach for the door, she calls out. “Clara?”
I halt and peer over my shoulder.
“Try not to take too long.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CLARA
I exitthe queen’s chambers and am glad when the two guards remain posted at the door rather than follow. As soon as my back is to them, I slip the vial down the front of my shirt. The fewer who know about it, the better. I don’t want it to fall into the wrong hands, especially without knowing what it is yet.
The castle’s activity continues to wane as dawn draws near. Besides an occasional sentry stationed in the usual places, I don’t pass more than a handful of vampires and servants until I reach the main floor.
Any plans I had to train with Varin have gone up in smoke. I’m too distracted and would only end up seriously injured. I go over every word of the conversation with Elizabeth.
Her parting words were a threat. At first, I assumed it was directed more toward me than Alaric. But now, I’m not so sure. It could mean one of two things—if I take too long, she will find a way to force my hand. Or she will be happy enough to take it out on him.
I rub my temples and set those questions aside. While I would prefer to narrow it down to better anticipate Elizabeth’s next move.
I know her well enough to regard every word out of her mouth as a deception, but not well enough to guess how cunning she is or which of us has fooled the other into believing our act.
A figure steps out, blocking my way. I flinch, barely managing to avoid a collision and back up. Elise fixes me with a look of pure hate, baring her fangs. It’s a weak attempt at intimidation.
Once, she nearly killed me. Now she’s as bothersome as an insect buzzing around your head in the summer.
Elise is a vampire. She doesn’t see me as a threat. Despite the fact that I only have a fraction of her strength and speed, I could pull the dagger hidden in my boot and bury it in her chest before she would think to strike.
She is someone who is used to scheming to get what she wants, so she only considers her next move—not how I might react. She lacks instinct for confrontations because she’s never had to fight to survive.
Tittering from two vampires off to the side draws the attention of several others in the hall. Splotches of red stain Elise’s pale face, and I don’t know if she is about to burst into tears or throw a tantrum.
I don’t react, waiting for her to make a move or explain. Elise takes a step closer, keeping too much distance to have an effect. Her chest rises and falls with quick, shallow breaths, and the way she holds herself gives her away.
She is afraidof me, I realize.
The laughter in the background dies off. Those who’ve stopped to watch have come to the same conclusion. Some throw looks of disgust our way, others walk away. Elise smiles, but it’s not me they are looking at.
“You might have convinced yourself that you mean something to him,” Elise says, pitched low, so only I hear. “But you are nothing more than a mouse the cat plays with before it feasts.”
