It reminds me of what’s at risk with my application. The Historical Society only welcomes one applicant from each kingdom. But with my consideration, that could open up a new influence on them, a fresh perspective. Other kingdoms will want to do the same.
Morgana is taking a huge leap by considering me at all. Even with her feelings in the mix. It could change how things are done.
My brother has done enough of that as it is, I think as I sit in my chair. I pull the book toward me. I try to focus.No more big waves. Just data. Just research. Just me.
My next feeding with Amber is unavoidable. We’re fresh out of good bloodbags in our manor thanks to the slow crawl of our human organizers.
Though it’s not their fault. The pickings have been rather slim lately. People find it hard to disappear without making impressions on their communities or families. Even the most willing must fake their deaths in rather big ways to get away with their new lives.
It’s either that or farming, which is entirely unethical.
I’m thinking about that as I drink from Amber. I’m thinking about her home, the old one, and how King Marr treated her.The vampire named Jasper.
An image flashes in my mind. Amber chained to a wall. Amber crying quietly. Amber craning to get her face away from someone in a tower...
She pushes me. “Stop it. You’re being rude.”
It’s rude to slurp. But the way I react is unavoidable. There’s no reason for Amber to be thinking such a thing actively in a kingdom such as ours. We have the nicest rooms available for our bloodbags—she’s fully aware of that.
So, why was she thinking about a tower?
Shadows flicker across my vision. I haven’t quite left the images behind. But when I bow toward Amber to lick away the crooked line of blood leaking from the remaining wound, she pushes my face away.
“I have something for you,” she says.
Deflection. It’s easy enough to pick up. When I lick my lips, I taste the truth of those images, the lack of bitterness alerting me of the fact that those weren’t thoughts.
Those werememories.
“Who did that to you?”
Amber shudders. The visibility of that reaction alone sets me on fire. “Was it the vampire named Jasper?”
She whirls around, her short hair whacking her nose, her flowing skirts billowing like she’s about to take flight. The cropped top she’s wearing is corseted but not a real corset. Just fashioned to resemble one. It’s darling on her.
She’s like a bohemian medieval fairy furious at me for breaking a contract.
Yet the rage that billows from her—as much as her skirts did just now—is beyond that of any supernatural creature. It burns me from the inside out.
Someone hurt her at the Onyxias kingdom.
Fury rounds my eyes, the room coming into a fuller focus as I clench my fists at my sides. “Who did it, Amber? Give me a name.”
“You took something you weren’t supposed to take. Was the comfort not enough?”
She crosses her arms as she turns to her sewing corner. With so much more material available, she practically disappears in the forest of sewing forms in various stages of dress.
She glares at me. If her eyes were vipers, I’d be suffering from a toxic bite. “Or have you just stumbled across something for your research and that’s why you don’t want to let it go?”
My research—my study.
How odd for me to forget when she’s in my arms. That was the whole point of continuing our feeding bond, to see what it produces. Tessa and Quinn set the stage for this scientific endeavor. I had to finish it.
At all costs.
The goal of the study is to discover any new effects by bloodbags. What’s changed over the years? Hasanythingchanged? Is what happened with Tessa and Quinn an isolated incident?
Apparently not.