‘You sure? Because being human isn’t a bad thing, you know.’
I glance at him. ‘Really?’ I hiss. ‘Tell me what’s so good about it, then.’
But Kyle has stopped. I do, too. We’re standing in front of a pair of double doors, carved with the Raven crest and gilded with silver.
‘What’s in here?’ he says.
‘Shouldn’t you know? I thought you would have seen the entire house.’
‘I’ve been told to follow you. I didn’t get a tour, apart from the entrances, exits and weak spots.’
‘Weak spots?’
‘Nothing to worry about,’ he says. ‘We used one of them last night though, when I brought you over the fence.’ He grins.
I realise I’m watching his mouth as he talks. ‘We did?’ This is useful information.
‘We did. So.’ He jerks his head towards the closed doors. ‘Will you take me inside?’ Then he winks at me, his hand brushing against mine.
Damn him to blood and darkness. Seriously. I can barely breathe as I turn the handle, pushing the door open. He’s in like a flash, a streak of darkness in the shadowy room. But instead of completing the circuit he stops dead centre, his mouth dropping open.
‘Wow. What is this place?’
I enter the room, floorboards creaking underfoot. Itispretty amazing. The room is large, with a vaulted ceiling. Long windows at one end let in pale moonlight. But there’s no furniture in here. Instead, faceless black mannequins stand all around the room, dressed in gowns and armour, chain mail and satin, styles from the distant past. Our family archive, clothes belonging to Ravens throughout history. The castle we live in passes to the youngest in the family as soon as they take a mate, with whoever’s in residence moving to one of the other Raven properties scattered across the realm. It’s also how the other branches of the family, like Mistral and Ravenna, came to be, the deposed Ravens starting new dynasties. But this is the ancient seat of our family, so it’s where our history is preserved. And the Costume Room is part of it.
I walk over to a small dial set into the wall. ‘Do you mind?’ I say. ‘It’ll be very dim, candle strength.’
Kyle is still looking around. ‘No, go for it.’
I turn the dial and the bulbs in the wall sconces start to glow, casting a shimmer across the objects in the room, glancing off jet and ruby and steel, off swords arranged like fans on the stone walls. I’ve spent a lot of time in this room. Whenever I come in here, it’s as though I connect to the energy of those past Ravens, and my heritage feels like something wonderful, rather than a weight to be borne. It feels like power. Like they’re… encouraging me. When you spend a lot of time alone you look for friendship wherever you can find it. And here, among the silk and metal of my ancestors, I feel something close to capable.
‘This is… amazing.’ Kyle is still in the centre of the room, hands on hips, his head slightly back, turning as he takes it all in. ‘Whose clothes are these?’
‘Um, they belong to my family. My ancestors.’ I try not to stare at his lean muscular frame, his gilded and shadowed beauty.
‘Really?’ His face lights up with a grin. He goes over to a suit of armour made from gleaming embossed silver, with the Raven crest in ebony on the breastplate. ‘Man, if this were mine…’ His long fingers run over the crest, tracing our motto. ‘Raven claw, blood and stone. Whose was this?’
‘My great-grandfather’s.’ I know all the pieces in here. Spent hours in the library researching their history, who they belonged to, the stories of my illustrious ancestors. Ravens fought in all the great vampire wars of history, including the Rising.
‘And this one?’
I don’t answer him. There’s another beautiful garment, draped over its mannequin. Except this one is unworn. Because it’s mine. I bite my lip as I touch the intricate jet beading, the stiff white satin dress embroidered with silver, the high collared cape with the Raven insignia on the back. My coronation robes. They’re terrifying and beautiful at the same time. I can’t imagine wearing them. It’s a good thing I’m not going to.
‘Shall we dance?’
‘What?’ I turn to see Kyle standing in the space at the centre of the room, one arm outstretched. He’s taken a cape from one of the mannequins and looks so hilarious I can’t help but laugh.
He frowns. ‘What? I thought I looked pretty good in this.’ He swishes the cape with one hand. It’s black with silver filigree stitched along the hem, the collar tall around his face. He does look good in it – he’d look good in anything – but at the same time it’s completely ridiculous.
‘You know I don’t like dancing,’ I say. I’m blushing, despite my best efforts.
‘Could have fooled me,’ he says, swishing the cape again as he comes closer. He twirls and I giggle, the wildness rising in me again. There’s no one to see me here, no smirking Stella or hungry vampires. I pull a long red silk scarf from a nearby mannequin, the jet beads making a sound like rainfall, drape it around me and walk over to him. He bows. I curtsey, then laugh again.
‘What’s so funny?’ He sounds injured, so I try to keep a straight face as I take his hand. His other hand comes to my waist and all at once the desire to laugh is gone from me, replaced by a different kind of desire.
‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘Let’s dance.’
‘As you wish, my lady.’ He sounds completely serious, so I resist the urge to snap at him. He pulls me closer, taking my hand, his other hand at the back of my waist. We spin beneath the long windows, my beads clicking and clacking like rain, his cloak swishing, silver filigree catching the dim light, the lawn outside silvered by the moon. He is effortlessly strong, the way he holds me against him, secure, protected. I’m tingling all over, my breath getting shorter. It’s like twirling through a dream, and I give myself up to it, my feet leaving the floor, my whole body entwined with his.
