Thalia’s eyes narrowed. “Get out.”
Camilla shook her head, curls flying. “I’m here to ensure that you are properly introduced to the courts this afternoon.”
Thalia faltered. Her poor heart couldn’t take all this starting and stopping. She’d known the introduction was coming, yet still she had to force the dread from her face. She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to say as neutrally as possible, “Where is Cassius?”
Camilla gave her a look, as if noting the way her breath had hitched. Thalia couldn’t stop the heat from flooding her cheeks. But she couldn’t ignore the feeling of how his teeth had sunk into her flesh—the pain as he tried to rip her throat out, dream or not.
Camilla finally inclined her head. Something about it seemed almost animal-like. Not in the way of the Vampyrs but something … else. “He’s probably off being the good little hand to the prince that he is.”
Something oily squirmed in Thalia’s gut at the words, at the tone. There was a fondness in the way Camilla spoke, no indication of bitterness despite her words. Then the words hit Thalia—the knowledge that this truly was Cassius’s kingdom now. He served the very creatures who’d sent those other Vampyrs to her home thirteen years ago, the creatures who’d taken her family. White-hot rage slammed into her so hard that she choked.
“Do you want me to find him?” Camilla added after a moment.
Thalia uncurled her fists, forcing a sharp exhale, only so that she didn’t shatter something. She picked at her thumbs. “No.”
Camilla looked at her like she didn’t believe her. But before the strange woman could question her further, Thalia stormed to the bathing chamber.
“What are you doing?” the woman demanded at her heels.
Thalia turned the water on in the large tub. “Becoming presentable.”
Camilla watched her from the doorway, arms crossed. “You could have a servant do that.”
“There are servants here?”
Camilla snorted. “Of course there’s servants; it’s a castle and you’re the princess.”
Thalia stared at the water rising in the black tub. Another perk of the ore—having access to clean water sent straight into your home. But Camilla’s words stuck. Yes. Yes she was going to be the princess of a realm that meant to ruin her. That she needed to destroy instead of allowing her fear to take over. She needed to think, needed to figure out a new plan. And she couldn’t very well do that with Camilla watching her like a hawk.
She turned suddenly to the woman. “Can you bring me a breakfast tray?”
Camilla’s brows rose. “I said there were servants here. Not sayingI’ma servant.”
Thalia bit down on her rising annoyance. “I know that. But can you ring for them?”For anyone, really. Anyone except you.“You said I’m to be presented to the courts this afternoon. I should get ready.”
Camilla’s eyes narrowed at her as if trying to sense the lie. Finally, she stiffly went back into the room to do as she was asked.
Thalia locked the door of the bathing room chamber, her body already weary and strung out, though she’d been awake for less than ten minutes.
She stared at the tub again. It was still heating, given its size, but something caught the corner of her eye—she’d almost missed the scrap of a shirt hanging out of the laundry chute.
Hisshirt.
Thalia pulled it out. It was dirty and sweat stained, but she could still smell him under it. Smell the way the wind always seemed to cling to him and how he used to worship the sun, lying in the fields with her when the first stalks of grass sprang up from the earth. Yet underneath it all, she smelled blood. That cloying stench of rot as he left the Scarecrows for her to find like some sort of fucked-up bread trail.
Thalia shoved the shirt into the chute. She shut her mind to her growing rage as she switched the running water to ice cold.
“I can’t breathe,” Thalia gritted out as one of the servants Camilla had been referring to pulled at the laces on her dress.
Camilla rolled her eyes from where she watched the servants tend to their new princess. Thalia had been lathered and plucked and pinched into what she guessed was perfection. It was almost worse than when Katrina tended to her.
The thought of her handmaiden sent another pang of sadness through her. She pushed it aside. She had a job to do.
“The Vampyr courts are adamant about appearance,” Camilla tutted, pulling Thalia from her thoughts. “If you can’t breathe, you can’t say something that will offend them.”
Thalia held back the insult poised on her tongue that would surely offend Camilla. But she wasn’t surprised to hear of the Vampyrs’ preferences. Given the way they seemed to idolize elegance and their own ethereal beauty, vanity must run deep.
“And if I pass out? Will you or anyone stop the courts from feasting on my blood?”
