At least he didn’t snore.
I slipped from the bed and padded to the window. Pulling back the heavy curtain, I gazed out at the vampire kingdom spread below. Unlike the darkness of the castle, the landscape was unexpectedly beautiful. Luminsprites danced over gardens where night-blooming flowers unfurled pearly petals. In thedistance, the lights of a village twinkled like earthbound stars.
“Lovely view, isn’t it?” Someone said from behind me. “Though the curtains are ghastly. I’ve been telling them for decades that emerald velvet would be much prettier than all this black, black, black.”
I whirled around, my heart leaping into my throat. A woman stood behind me—or rather, shefloatedabove the floor behind me. She wore an elaborate pink gown in a style I suspected had been fashionable years ago, with big puffy sleeves, a low neckline, and enough ruffles to clothe a small village.
I could see through her pearly flesh.
I opened my mouth, and what came out was a sound like something between a yelp, a squeak, and an entirely undignified hiccup.
Suddenly, Kieran stood beside me, a sword in his hand, his hair rumpled from sleep. He’d moved faster than I could track, putting himself between me and the door.
“What is it?” he snarled, scanning the room. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s a woman.” I pointed at the floating figure who was now examining her nails and tutting about how she’d broken one and where would she find a file. “Right there.”
Kieran followed my gesture before his gaze raked back to me. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Oh, he never does,” the woman with long golden hair and pretty violet eyes said with a dramatic sigh. “None of them can. It’s terribly inconvenient.”
Quandary, who’d been sleeping on his perch, blinked in my direction with widened eyes. He fluttered over to inspect the woman, circling her.
“Quandary can see her too,” I told Kieran. “She’s right there.”
“To your kingly husband, sadly, I’m not right there,” she said. “I’m a ghost.”
My breath snagged in my throat. “She says she’s a ghost. What ghost wears a ridiculous dress with enough ruffles to?—”
“Excuse me.” The woman sniffed. “I’ll have you know this gown was the height of fashion in my day. I even wore it once to the Winter Solstice Ball.”
Kieran lowered his sword, his mouth a thin slash on his face. “Ghosts do not exist, Cyrene. Shadowborne has many legends, but haunting spirits aren’t among them.”
“Of course not. And yet here we are,” I said. “Me, you, and Miss Ruffles, the Ectoplasmic Fashion Disaster.”
“I resent that,” she said.
“Unless you’ve enchanted your castle to project images of fashion-challenged women in the middle of the night, there is absolutely a ghost standing nearby,” I said.
“Standing is such a pedestrian term,” Cordelia drawled. “I prefer to think of it as gracefully manifesting.”
Quandary released a puff of smoke that passed right through her. In his excitement, a larger flame escaped right behind, hitting Kieran’s sleeping pants.
“Blood and shadows.” Kieran jumped back, swatting at the flame that had begun to eat through the fabric. I grabbed a pillow and beat at his leg, putting out the fire but not before it had scorched a good portion of his shin.
“I’m so sorry.”
Kieran examined the reddened skin with a grimace.
“Quandary gets excited. He doesn’t mean?—”
“It’s fine,” Kieran snapped, though his expression suggested it was anything but. “Maybe your companion should sleep elsewhere. The tower workshop, perhaps?”
Quandary dropped to the floor, his wings folding against his body in shame.
“He stays with me.” My protective instincts flared. “He’s been by my side since he bonded with me. I’m not sending him away because of one accident.”
“It’s called practicality, not punishment,” Kieran said, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was trying and failing not to smile. “Unless you’d prefer we roast in our sleep?”
