her husband’s—moves from face to face in the crowd, I can feel people opening up, see their shoulders relaxing and their bodies leaning forward as if they’re suddenly afraid of missing even one word that falls from her bloodred-painted lips.
Her eyes are the same near-black as Jaxon’s, and her skin has the same unique—and slightly odd—olive and alabaster tint to it. Her features are sharp, angled, and it’s suddenly obvious just where the Vega cheekbones and jawline that I love so much come from. The long, lithe build and dark hair, too, though the queen wears hers in a long braid wrapped around the crown of her head—and then balances her gold-and-jewel-encrusted crown on top of it, just in case someone at Katmere doesn’t know who she is.
She makes a striking picture, no doubt, and her sons are the spitting image of her, though Hudson’s eyes are a different color. And like them, there’s a regality—an expectation of how things should be—to her that simply can’t be taught.
This is a woman who was born to rule…and to do it warmly, in such a way that nearly everyone watching her somehow feels like they have a connection to her. That she is speaking directly to them. No doubt, it’s a spectacular talent.
I just don’t know if I buy it.
Because I still can’t forget that this is the woman who slashed Jaxon’s face so severely that she scarred a vampire. The woman who took him away from Hudson without a backward glance even as Hudson sobbed for the little brother he loved.
And yet she is winking at the crowd. She is smiling and thanking people by name and even cracking a joke or two just to make her public adore her a tiny bit more.
It’s such a strange dichotomy that I’m reminded of an Andy Warhol painting. He did the same image in four different—usually tertiary—colors because each person’s brain sees colors differently, and it is up to the brain to make its color perception fact. Looking at this woman, watching her after seeing the way she was in Hudson’s memory yesterday, makes me wonder which shades of her my brain is really seeing…and which one I should make my reality.
Until I can figure out the answer, I think it behooves me to stay very, very far away from the queen. I’m guessing her name isn’t Delilah for nothing.
Eventually, she manages to thank everyone in existence, but it’s not until she starts talking about the prize that I lean forward, breath held and eyes peeled. Let it be the bloodstone, I beg the universe. Please, please, please let it be the bloodstone. Don’t let Byron’s parents have changed their mind.
“I know that the usual prize for the annual Katmere Ludares tournament is a trophy and a small monetary prize to be divided among the winning team.” She smiles at the audience and seems to enjoy the sudden uptick in enthusiasm that seems to fill the auditorium. “But this year, we thought we’d do something a little different, a little bigger”—she waits for the spontaneous applause to die down—“since we have a big occasion to celebrate as well.” She pauses to lean in herself, like she’s about to share a secret with her most favorite loyal subjects. My stomach bottoms out, partly because I realize I might be the occasion she’s referring to and partly because it terrifies me to see just how anxious everyone is to know what she has to say.
“Of course,” she continues with a big, wide smile, “you already have up-close-and-personal knowledge of the occasion I’m referring to—the discovery of the first gargoyle in a thousand years!” Again she looks around the crowd, and again I slump a little farther down in my seat. “The Circle and I are thrilled to welcome Grace Foster into our world.
“Welcome, Grace. I want you to know how very excited the Circle is to meet you.” She lifts her hands in the gesture for applause, and the audience gives her what she’s after, even though it’s suddenly nowhere near as enthusiastic as it was. Which is okay with me, honestly.
Again, she waits for the noise to die down before continuing. “Now, let’s talk about the prize—everybody’s favorite part, including mine.”
She reaches into the box and pulls out a large, deep-red geode, as richly colored as the blood that formed it. It glows—whether from the light reflecting off its angles or from within, I’m not sure—but it is absolutely breathtaking. “For the team that