The servant tightening her dress faltered. Thalia couldn’t tell if the three who attended to her were Vampyrs or whatever mysterious thing Camilla was. They hadn’t spoken at all to reveal their canines.
“Are you always this dramatic?” Camilla raised a well-groomed brow. Yes, appearances must be important, because somewhere between the time Thalia had gotten out of her freezing bath and the time the servants finished making her up like a porcelain doll, thewoman had changed. She wore a silk gown of such a deep violet that it was nearly black, the sleeves three-quarter length with lace trim. Black diamonds dripped from her throat and ears.
Thalia didn’t comment as the servant finally stepped back and she had a chance to look in the mirror.
Her gown was similar in fashion to Camilla’s, only a rich crimson color that reminded her of dried blood. A stiff piece of red lace wrapped around the back of her neck; it was scalloped, with tiny droplets of black diamonds sewn into the rigid fabric, and flared slightly in a small half-moon.
Thalia’s hair had been curled and pinned up, ruby clips holding the strands in place. Her lashes had been darkened and lengthened, her cheeks painted to bring out a natural blush. While she couldn’t deny that at least she did look good, like a princess, she wanted to laugh at the pomp of it all—it was far more ostentatious than when her mother held court. But she didn’t. She kept her face carefully blank as a servant handed her a black silk fan.
The cold press of her dagger against her thigh was her only comfort as she faced Camilla. Neither she nor the servants had seen her slip it under her dress when their backs were turned.
Camilla looked her over, nodding once. “This will have to do.”
Thalia bit her tongue as Camilla pulled something out of her dress pocket and held out her arm. “Here.”
Thalia looked at the cream letter and a small velvet pouch dangling from Camilla’s fingers. “What’s that?”
“From His Highness.”
His Highness.
Thalia swallowed as she tentatively took the items, cracking open the thick seal of the letter to read the contents.
Princess,
I hope your journey into Vaccarium was uneventful. Please accept this token as a symbol of our everlasting union and the beginning of true peace.
His Royal Highness
“Not one for words,” Thalia muttered, and she could have sworn Camilla snorted. Thalia opened the pouch, spilling the contents into her palm.
A ring with a blood-red ruby stared at her. The band consisted of silver spires that twisted to hold the ruby in the middle, almost like a rose covered by thorns.
Camilla whistled. “Got the family jewels.”
Thalia glanced up, but the woman’s face was serious. She looked back at the ring. A part of her wanted to throw it into the fire—to watch it melt and crack under pressure.
But she needed to think of her mission.
Thalia slipped the ring onto her left hand, ignoring the weight and coldness of the metal against her skin.
Camilla nodded, then inclined her head. “Shall we?”
Chapter Nine
Camilla led her down the shining staircase and toward the right wing of the palace, which was void of Vampyrs.
Thalia’s footsteps echoed, and the back of her neck prickled, urging her to turn around, although she knew no one followed her. Camilla, her curls bouncing with each step, occasionally glanced back to hiss at Thalia to keep up.
And like the good princess she’d decided to be, Thalia did as she was told.
Because Thalia wouldn’t be able to take them all down if she continued to act a fool. She’d been born a princess, been raised as such, despite some of the more dangerous escapades her mother had let her indulge in of late. If the Vampyr courts insisted on appearance, so be it.
Thalia kept her back straight as they came to a set of double doors, the black wood smooth like glass. At least here there were two guards posted.
Camilla didn’t give a warning as she pushed past them and into an expansive throne room.
Sweat gathered along Thalia’s palms as the entire room turned its attention onher.
