“Well,” an elderly vampire woman with a jeweled collar said. “It appears our new queen has adapted quickly to our ways.”
“Indeed,” said the vampire beside her, his white mustache quivering with what might’ve been amusement. “Most commendable.”
Around us, conversation gradually resumed, though I felt the weight of their eyes still watching.
“The winter solstice preparations must begin soon,” Uncle Prentiss said, cutting his gaze toward me before returning it to Kieran. “Will we be following traditional protocols this year, Your Majesty?”
“With some modifications.” Kieran’s voice had returned to its usual, tight control, though I thought I heard a touch of roughness around the edges. “We may want to consider inviting representatives from the witches’ coven this year, given our new alliance.”
Madeline’s lips pressed together as if she’d tasted something sour. “How…modern of you.”
Beneath the table, Kieran’s hand found mine, and he gave it a squeeze before withdrawing. The touch was so unexpected I nearly dropped my fork again. Warmth bloomed in my chest at the simple gesture of solidarity.
I chewed my food. Swallowed. Tried to appear as if I belonged at this table with its elaborate etiquette and unspoken rules. Other than the occasional dribble of blood from someone’s mouth, vampire breakfast rituals were bizarrely formal. Goblets were always held with the left hand, and napkins were precisely refolded and laid on laps after each use.
“Fresh from the north counties,” Prentiss said, licking his lips. “You can taste the highland clover in the undertones.”
Commenting on the vintage was apparently considered gauche, judging by the scandalized looks sent his way.
At least I wasn’t the only one struggling with protocol here.
“Do you have similar dining customs among witches, Your Highness?” asked a middle-aged vampire in a dark brown suit seated across from me. His tone suggested genuine curiosity rather than condescension.
“Not quite so regimented.” I carefully wiped the corner of my mouth, folded my napkin, and returned it to my lap. “Though my grandmother has strict rules about proper spell discussion at the table. Magic talk is forbidden until after the main course.”
“Sensible.” He nodded. “Nothing ruins a good meal like debate over enchantment techniques. I’m Lord Rathley, by the way. Your king’s newest advisor.” The man, only a few years older than myself, bowed his head. “Should you need anything for your personal use, my office is at your disposal.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I appreciate that.”
“If she needs anything, she can ask me.” An undercurrent of steel rang out in Kieran’s tone. “I’m her husband, after all.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” A flicker of amusement crossed the lord’s face. “I merely offered my services as is proper.”
Kieran’s jaw tightened. “Your dedication to protocol is noted.”
Was he actually jealous over a simple offer of assistance? The thought was as ridiculous as it was intriguing. I tucked it away to examine later, when I wasn’t surrounded by vampires with observant eyes.
Lady Cordelia had drifted down to hover behind Kieran, making exaggerated swooning motions and fanning herself with her hand.
Possessive, isn’t he?she mouthed at me with a wink.
Since I seemed to be the only person in the room who could see and hear her, I focused on my plate rather than reply. This ghost was going to get me into trouble if I wasn’t careful.
The rest of breakfast passed in a blur of small talk. The vampires deferred to Kieran without question, their respect for him clear despite the formal stiffness in their interactions. No one ate actual food except me, which made me self-conscious about every bite until I realized that eating gave me an excuse to avoid conversation.
When we’d finished, Kieran stood, and the entire table rose with him. I stumbled to my feet quickly as well.
“I’ll be showing my queen the castle and grounds today,” he said. “She should become familiar with her new home.” He glanced my way. “The gardens first, I think. They’re lovely this time of year.”
Cordelia wiggled her eyebrows.
“I look forward to seeing all of Shadowborne over the next few days,” I said, glancing toward Lord Brightworthy.
The old vampire’s eyebrows rose. “It would be my pleasure to escort you personally, Your Highness. The history of the Nightblood line is most illuminating.”
“Thank you. That’s quite kind of you.”
“Any of us would be…delighted to accompany you almost anywhere,” Prentiss said, his gaze fixed on my neck where Kieran had bitten me.
