Tempting Raven

  No one walks in, though.

  “I told you to knock first.” Kingsley’s voice drifts through the doorway.

  “And I told you I don’t need your assistance, yet here you are,” a light, male voice quips.

  “I’m here for her. Not you,” Kingsley says. “You may be part of the royal circle, but I still don’t trust you. I don’t trust anyone except for my brother and the queen.”

  “Well, that seems like a sad way to live,” the voice replies. “Kind of depressing, actually.”

  “It’s the only way I can live without risking the king and queen’s lives,” Kingsley states in a low tone that carries a silent threat. “I’ll do anything to make sure they stay alive, even if it means following around annoying assistants to the queen.”

  “Assistant?” I accidentally say aloud.

  A blood drop of silence trickles by, and then Kingsley and a male vampire I’ve never seen before appear in the doorway. He looks around his mid-twenties, although it’s sometimes hard to tell with vampires, and has black hair shaved shorter on the sides and longer on the top, the tips of the strands glinting silver. His outfit screams stylish; black jeans tucked into clunky boots, a black shirt, and a silver tie, topped off with a vest laced with chains. His startling icy-blue eyes are framed with kohl eyeliner and thick lashes, and his lips are stained blue.

  Kingsley is sporting the gothic look he rocked last night, dressed head to toe in black with a studded belt and unlaced boots. Tattoos peek out from the sleeves of his shirt, and a few thick band rings ornament his knuckles. Again, he looks like the opposite of the Kingsley I grew up with.

  Kingsley crooks his brow at me. “Were you eavesdropping on our conversation?”

  “You’re the ones who opened the door then stood out in the hallway and talked loudly,” I point out. “It’s not my fault I overheard.”

  His lips tug into a smirk. “Sure, it’s not. Just like it’s not your fault I spent all day trying to track down Gabe.”

  “I never said that wasn’t my fault.” I feel sort of bad, considering he has dark circles under his eyes and his skin is paler than normal. He’s probably been up all day. “And I feel bad for running off.”

  “Good.” He moves past the stranger and steps into my room. “Don’t ever do it again.”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” I say. “Although, I’m pretty sure I don’t have to take orders from you.”

  His lips twitch. “No, you don’t.”

  Okay, so maybe being queen won’t be entirely awful.

  To make the situation even more bizarre, Kingsley lowers his head and gets down on one knee. “From now on, I swear to protect you with my life. I promise to make sure no harm comes to you. I take a vow of silence that all your secrets will remain your secrets. I will give my blood to protect yours.”

  I gape at him. “What’re you doing?”

  He continues to ramble on nonsense with his head bowed.

  “He’s initiating himself into his new job title,” the stranger says with a curious smile gracing his face as he studies me from the doorway.

  I glance down at Kingsley, babbling about blood spilled and death sacrifices, and then back at the stranger. “What’s his new job title?”

  He straightens and ambles into the room. “Your sworn Blood Protector.” He must read the confusion on my face because he adds, “Every queen has a clusterfuck of bodyguards that will throw down their lives to protect her, but she also has one guard—the Blood Protector—who not only guards her life, but guards her secrets. He does anything to protect her, will be there when she needs him, and lives and breathes for her.”

  My gaze drops to Kingsley, who is down on one knee in front of me. “And mine is Kingsley?”

  The stranger nods. “The king appointed him at dusk.” He strolls around the room, tracing his finger along the top of the dresser. “The words he’s quoting right now are part of a spell that will bind him to that oath forever. If he breaks the oath, he dies.”

  I blink. “Well, that … sucks. For him, anyway.”

  The stranger glances up at me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Only if he breaks the oath.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” I pause. “Who are you?”

  His eyes light up as he claps his hands together. “I’m Dexlarelle. Dex for short. I’m your stylist.”

  I stare at him stupidly. “You’re my what?”

  “Stylist,” he repeats in amusement. “By the shocked look on your face, I’m guessing you didn’t know the queen has one of those, either.”

  “I don’t know much about the queen,” I admit. “Which might make me the worst queen ever.”

  “Or the best.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because it means you can give us a fresh start, and we’re in definite need of one of those.” He approaches the bookshelf, skims his fingers along a row of titles, and selects a thick book that looks more ancient than the vampire species. “This will tell you a lot about the queen’s history.” He hands me the book, and then whisks to the end of the shelf. Tapping on the side with the palm of his hand, a small compartment glides out from the wood paneling, revealing a file of worn leather notebooks. “And these are the last queen’s journals if you want to learn about being a queen on a more personal level.”

  “How did you know they were in there?”

  He plucks up one of the notebooks and gives it to me. “I was the stylist for the queen before you.”

  “Wow, that makes you ol—” I bite down on my tongue to stop my mishap. Vampires hate being called old.

  “Very smart on the knowledge of what it takes to be the queen,” he finishes for me with laughter in his eyes. “Lucky for you, that’s just what you need.”

  I run my hand along the engraved cover of the notebook. “These are the last queen’s journals? Like, her private thoughts?”

  He nods, the sparkle in his eyes dulling. “I’m not sure what exactly is in there, but I’d recommend reading it and thinking about all the ways not to do what she did.”

  “Was she not a very good queen?”

  “That all depends on who you ask.”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “Well, then I’ll tell you—and only because you requested—that she wasn’t that terrible of a queen. She just made a few bad decisions and mistakes that may have led to a century break from Fate declaring another queen.”

  “What sort of mistakes?”

  “She refused to admit that she was in love with the king when she was, which led to the destruction of our royalty system.”

  My breath hitches in my throat as my blood runs warm. “Is the queen supposed to fall in love with the king?”

  “She is.” He pulls a whoopsie face. “By the look on your face, I’m guessing you didn’t know that. And if I had to guess, some people were probably keeping that secret from you on purpose, to avoid you freaking out.”

  “No one told me … I don’t …” I have no words. No words at all. Only walls closing in.

  Trapped, trapped, trapped!

  “I’m sure it won’t be that bad.” He attempts to offer me a reassuring smile. “Your Rhyland already seems like a fine king, and he’s only just begun.”

  “He also tormented me for decades and may have perhaps tried to get me killed by a demon once,” I say flatly. “I’ve hated him since I was a kid.”

  “Hate seems like a strong word,” Kingsley’s voice floats over my shoulder, startling me so badly I nearly drop the books I’m holding.

  “No, hate seems like the perfect word.” I face him. “Are you done with your weird little chant?”

  He fights back a smile. “You mean my oath?”

  “You say oath. I say chant.” I set the books down on the table. “It’s all the same, if you ask me.”

  He steps in front of me, his voice deepening an octave. “Except one is just words and another is a promise to lay down my life for you.”

  I hoist myself onto the table an
d sit with my legs dangling over the edge. “That seems like a pretty crazy thing to do for a girl you dislike equally as much as she dislikes you.”

  “Yep, I must be completely insane.” He rolls his eyes. “You really don’t have a clue. But, I guess that was the point.” He plops down into a chair near the fireplace and kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. “Wake me up when you’re done.”

  “Done with what?” I ask.

  He just tips his head back and shuts his eyes.

  “Done with getting ready.” Dex appears in front of me with his head tilted to the side.

  “Are you really going to style me?” I ask, fidgeting with a leather bracelet on my wrist.

  He nods, running his fingers through strands of my hair. “And I think you’re going to be my favorite queen to dress yet.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Other than you’re gorgeous, you’re also different from the blonde-haired, blue-eyed queens who came before you.” He crosses his arms with his head slanted to the side. “And those eyes … I’ve never seen that color before. They’re beautiful.”

  “My grandma had the same color eyes.”

  “I bet she was almost as beautiful as you, then.” He says it as if stating a simple fact, like how the stars shine every night.

  All this beautiful talk is making me uncomfortable, and he more than notices.

  “You’re not used to being called beautiful, are you?” he questions.

  I shake my head. “Only by my parents, but that doesn’t really count.”

  He drums a finger against his bottom lip. “I have a feeling a lot of people feel the same way. They’re just too afraid to tell you.”

  “And I have a feeling you might be delusional.”

  “That I may be, but I never say a truth I don’t fully believe myself.” He winds around the table and throws open the armoire.

  Inside are lavish necklaces, earrings, bracelets, rings, and even a crown spun with metallic stars and lavender.

  I hop off the table and move up beside him. “Who does all this belong to?”

  He begins sorting through the necklaces. “It belongs to the castle, which means, while you’re queen, all of it belongs to you.”

  Without looking up at me, he snaps his fingers, and the dresser drawers shoot open, revealing stacks of clothing inside. Another snap of his finger, and the racks in the closet become lined with shirts, skirts, and dresses, while the shelves with shoes, hats, and bags.

  “How did you do that?” I whisper in shock.

  “I didn’t. The castle did.” He selects a red velvet choker and twists around to face me. “It’s enchanted. Ask the right way, and it’ll give you almost anything your heart truly desires.”

  “And what if I asked it not to make me queen?” I mumble, taking the choker as he hands it to me.

  “Unfortunately, almost nothing can change that.” He whisks toward the closet as he singsongs, “Only Fate itself.”

  I trudge after him, feeling as though a huge ogre is sitting on my chest. All these rules that bind me to the king—to Rhyland—I don’t think I can do it. But I might not have a choice, unless I want to let the rebellion destroy the vampire world, or until I can somehow talk directly to Fate and plead with it to pick someone better. As far as I know, that’s not possible.

  Or is it? Because, so far, I feel like I hardly know anything about my world.

  “Fate can change who the queen is?” I ask, stepping into the closet.

  Dex nods as he sifts through dresses. “But don’t get too excited. It’s only happened once that I’ve heard of, and the story could easily be a legend.”

  I lean against the doorjamb. “Is it even possible to talk to Fate? I mean, it talks to the Eternal Readers, right?”

  “No one really knows if the Eternal Readers speak directly to Fate, or if they communicate with another form.” He yanks a lacy black dress off a hanger.

  “But they do communicate with it or else there wouldn’t be eternal readings.”

  He holds the dress up in front of me. “If they didn’t, then our entire history would be structured by lies.”

  “True.” I thrum my fingers against the sides of my legs. “If I tracked down an Eternal Reader and asked them to speak to Fate for me, would they?”

  He glances up at me as he pulls a leather jacket off the hanger. “I’m not sure … Why do you ask?”

  I straighten and shrug. “I just want to know why it picked me as queen.” Lie. I want to try to convince Fate that I’m not right for the job, but I’ll keep that little secret to myself.

  He eyes me over with heavy suspicion. “Well, I’m not sure if you can. And it’d be in your best interest to stay away from the Eternal Readers. They can be very tricky and manipulative when they’re not on duty.” He turns back toward the clothes, then pauses. “Promise me you won’t go looking for them. It’s too dangerous.”

  “I won’t.” The words aren’t entirely a lie. I have no plans on going to look for the Eternal Readers. How could I when I’m not allowed to leave the castle without a bodyguard?

  But my Eternal Reading is in less than a week, which will give me the perfect opportunity to plead my case.

  14

  A handful of minutes later, my mom messages me that she got called into a meeting and won’t be over until early tomorrow morning. Effie messages me, as well, begging for deets. Since I still don’t know what I can tell her, I reply that I’ll explain everything when I can.

  I hate myself a little bit for not telling her the truth. Hate being secretive with the only vampire, besides Anders, who ever went out of their way to make friends with me. But my self-hating thoughts quickly get distracted as I begin to get ready for dinner.

  Apparently, having a stylist means overdressing for every occasion.

  After putting waves in my hair and tracing my eyes with kohl liner, Dex tells me to put on the outfit he selected: a black, silky, lace trimmed dress; a leather jacket; knee-high tights; and velvet platforms for me to wear to dinner. To add to the look, he laces a silk choker around my neck and weaves a halo of silvery black bleeding stars and raveling vines through my hair to form a crown, telling me I’ll get to wear the real one soon.

  Fake crown or not, I still resemble a princess. Or a queen. Which is the point, Dex said, when I tried to argue that I was too dressed up.

  “You’re the vampire queen,” he stated. “And you look like it. Now go to dinner and make sure to drink enough blood to get rid of that dragon burn on your neck.”

  And that was that. He ushered me out the door with Kingsley following at my heels.

  “Where am I supposed to be going?” I call over my shoulder as I stroll down the wide hallway illuminated by iron lanterns.

  Charmed mirrors decorate the crimson walls and reveal my reflection. If I were in an ordinary world, I wouldn’t be able to see myself. Lucky, I’ve never been to the ordinary world, only heard rumors of it, but it sounds like a dreadfully boring place.

  “Just keep walking. I’ll let you know when you get there.” Kingsley’s texting on his phone with his head down, matching my steps perfectly, as if he’s wholly in sync with me.

  I slow down my pace to see if he will and smile when he does. To test my theory further, I weave left than right. When I peer over my shoulder, my grin magnifies as Kingsley traces my route. I’m not even sure he’s aware he’s mimicking me, which makes this even more hilarious.

  “Are you blood drunk this evening?” he asks without looking up. “Or do you just find yourself amusing?”

  “The latter.” I jump left then right and snicker when he bounces like a hopping sprite after me.

  “Mother of all annoying vampires, will you knock that off?” He bounces to a stop beside me and tears his gaze off his phone. “I’m not a puppet.”

  “It sort of seems like you are.” I do a little dance and bust up laughing when he mirrors my jig.

  Once I let him stop, he gives me an unimpressed look. “Wil
l you please knock that off? I need to send a message and you’re distracting me.”

  “Oh, fine, but only because you said please.” I start up the hallway again with him at my side. “Why are you mimicking me, anyway?”

  “It’s an aftereffect of taking the oath,” he explains as he punches buttons on his phone. “It’ll wear off in a couple of days.”

  I tap my fingers together, very evil villain-ish. “So, I have two whole days to torture you?”

  He shifts uneasily. “Yeah, but you don’t need to torture me.”

  “But I could.” Maybe it makes me twisted, but I’m enjoying his discomfort. All those years he went out of his way to make me miserable, and now I can make him do anything.

  “You can’t make me do everything,” he explains, as if reading my thoughts. “Especially anything that will bring harm to you or me.”

  “I wasn’t planning on doing anything harmful,” I say, slightly offended. “I’m not that mean.”

  He tucks his phone into his pocket, fixing his undivided attention on me. “No, you’re not. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

  “Is the oath making you apologize to me?”

  “No, I just want—need—to apologize … for a lot of things.” He doesn’t elaborate on what those things are, just motions for me to get a move on. “Now, hurry up. Dinner is waiting and you have guests.”

  I tense. “What guests?”

  “The fey king and queen.”

  Shock ripples through me as I force my feet to move forward. “My first day here and I’m supposed to have dinner with the fey king and queen?” I absentmindedly touch the makeshift crown on my head. “No wonder Dex had me dress up.”

  “It’s tradition for the queen to dress up for dinner,” Kingsley says as we stop in front of a set of wooden doors. “He’ll probably try to dress you up every time you leave the room. And even probably when you go to bed.”

  My mood splatters across the tile floor. “So, I have to dress like this for bed?”

  He chuckles, his gaze skimming up and down my body. Then he scratches the side of his eye. “Probably not the dress, but something like what you have on underneath it.”