Once, I thought of myself as pretty. Back when we were young and Huntyr would go on and on about my looks. She loved my long, sun-bleached hair. My mother used to say all the same shit, too, rambling about how all the boys in Midgrave would love me.
My chest tightened. That was before she was killed by one of the cursed vampyres who stalked those lands.
Huntyr had saved us from all of that. From the hungry ones. From the poverty of Midgrave.
Hells, if I could go back and tell my past self that I would be standing here, selecting a dress from a whole collection of fine garments, she’d laugh in my face.
I no longer thought of myself as a pretty woman, though. I hardly thought of myself as a woman at all. With my towel secured tightly around my body, I tilted my head to the side and took in my stark reflection in the mirror ahead of me.
The person staring back at me was not beautiful. She was the shell of a soul, a cracked heart and a bleeding personality.
I was not pretty. I was frightening. Gruesome. Pitiful.
As I stared and stared and stared at my sharp cheekbones and my pale lips, my stomach twisted in knots.
Finally, the urge to vomit overcame me, and I turned away.
This was not the time to puke in disgust over my own damn reflection. No, tonight, I had to pretend like I had my shit together. Like I didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of me. Like I was powerful.
Like I belonged.
And pretend, I would, because that would never be me.
The dress I selected was a solid runner-up to last night’s attire, though much more mysterious. The fabric was dark as midnight, and instead of exposing my skin, it hugged my curves, though it left just enough to the imagination to keep a king like Cornelius interested.
The hem of the dress came to mid-thigh, the long, tight sleeves stopped past my wrists, and the modest neckline showed no cleavage.
Not too bad for Midgrave trash. Not too bad at all.
I slipped out of my bedroom, being sure the door clicked shut quietly behind me.
Without my permission, my body turned in the opposite direction from where I was going, as if looking for Jessiah or Xavier.
Neither of them were lurking like creeps in the shadows.
Not this time, anyway.
I rolled my shoulders back and made my way downstairs to meet Cornelius. A guard dressed in head-to-toe black met me at the bottom of the stairs. He was one of the more elite guards in Pericius, I realized. The males dressed like this ranked higher than those who wore mere uniforms.
“Rummy?” he asked as I descended.
I cocked a brow. “Yes?”
“King Cornelius is waiting for you. Please, follow me.” He nodded once, then started for a set of doors at the back of the castle. Outside, the horizon basked in bronzed sunshine and the exterior walls were flooded with a warming light.
The scene was beautiful, giving me hope that tonight might not turn into a total shit show.
Xavier and Jessiah and their concerns were ridiculous. Cornelius was a king, yes, but he was just a man. He had been thrust into this position, and he was likely still scrambling to figure out who he could trust.
We could easily become those people he trusted.
Xavier and Jessiah had yet to see the bigger picture here.
“Where are you taking me?” I asked as the guard turned down a small stone path that led to a cascading staircase.
“Up there,” he said, stepping to the side. “He’ll be waiting at the top.”
“Uh, okay…”
