Page 67 of Ruthless Royals
I grabbed the goblet in my hands, my fingers running over the intricate carvings on its side. With a sharp tug, I uncorked the bottle of elixir strapped to my wrist and watched as the golden, odorless liquid swirled in the glass like honey. Then I carefully poured her favorite vintage from the bottle of deep ruby red liquid nestled against me and watched as the two liquids combined. The sweet aroma of ripe grapes filled the surrounding air.
I spun around and strode back to the table, my heart pounding in my chest. I carefully set down the goblet of liquid in front of her. “Your favorite.” For a moment, her eyes shone brightly before she shifted on the chair, revealing her thigh beneath the fabric. “You've become quite accommodating,” she said.
“I want the crown,” I replied. “I'm only amenable to that.”
The server placed the plate of food in front of her, and a wave of familiarity swept over me. Hogs roast with potatoes—I knew it from somewhere, but I couldn't place the memory. The smell was strong and homely, and my mouth watered involuntarily. She sighed with relief as she admired the dish. “Feeling nostalgic?” she asked, and my brows furrowed. It’s been so long since I've had actual food,” she said.
“So, you don't enjoy being a vampire?”
She shook her head. “No, but I like that you enjoy it.”
I took my seat, leaning back against the leather. Salenia glanced at Alana, then waved her hand dismissively. Alana bowed her head in my peripheral vision, then walked out the door.
“Where is Astor?” I asked. “I haven’t seen him attached to your side.”
I held her gaze, unflinching, as I refused to look at the glass as she tipped it to her lips. “Dead. But you knew that already.”
“How?” I asked, trying not to stare when she placed the glass back on the table without taking a sip.
“Someone broke into the dungeons and destroyed him. A sorcerer was involved with whoever killed him. He was dust when I found him.”
“Hmm,” I said, forcing surprise into my expression. “He had a lot of enemies.”
Her eyes were like mirrors, reflecting my stare into me, the power behind them threatening consumption, but I wouldn’t look away. She wanted that.
“So it seems,” was all she said.
Her skin glistened under the candlelight flickering between us. The glass stood between us, mocking me as she pressed her elbows against the table. A lump formed in my throat as I waited for her to drink the elixir. In a moment, this could all be over. She would be mortal again, and we could kill her.
A faint flicker of familiarity reached through my mind, begging me to delve deeper as something surfaced—another vision. I gripped the table, clamping my eyes shut, wishing the pain echoing in my mind to go away when the scene appeared in my mind.
I could taste the fresh blood on my lips, the faint metallic taste of iron, and climbed my gaze to meet Salenia’s. My brows knitted as I realized she was in her original form.
“Do you like it?” She asked in the vision, the present Salenia unaware of what was happening in my head as I slumped over the table. “The blood?”
A man groaned from beside me, his last breaths shallowing as his body grew limp. I stared at him, horrified, the blood in my veins icing. But I didn’t know why. I’d killed a hundred times and never felt guilt like this.
Salenia crouched in front of me, placing her hand under my chin to lift my gaze back to hers and away from the dying mortal. There was compassion on her face, a peace I’d never seen before. Her lips curled up, her eyes swimming with hope as she nodded slowly. “It’s going to be okay, my love.”
I blinked twice, reality coursing back to me as I stared down at the goblet of blood, the wood under my nails splintered as I’d lost myself in the vision.
Slowly, I looked at Salenia, suspicion crowning every micro expression on her features. “What happened?”
I wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead. I shouldn’t have drunk four teas in a row. The pain seared, as if it was readying me for another vision. I shook my head, scattering the image of her being kind. Because there was no world in which that would happen, where she would look at me like that. Nor one where I’d care about killing some mortal man.
My heart raced as I attempted to make sense of it all. “Nothing,” I blurted.
“That didn’t seem like nothing.”
“I’m not feeling, myself,” I admitted. “I’m just nervous about Asland and being king.”
“Here.” She pushed her glass over to me, the liquor splashing. “This will help withnerves.”
We both knew I wasn’t the anxious type, let alone about being king, but no other excuse seemed to make any kind of sense right now. My thoughts were fractured, my brain pulsing as if it was suddenly too big for my skull. How strong was that tea?
“I’m okay,” I said, and lifted my goblet of blood.
I licked my lips, trying to focus on her words. “What?” I asked, realizing I’d missed whatever she’d said.