wins this year’s very special Ludares tournament, we offer up this rare and beautiful bloodstone, donated by the distinguished Lord family, in fact originally gifted to them from our own personal royal collection!”
The auditorium goes wild, teenagers and faculty alike applauding and stomping and cheering her generosity. She loves it, of course, and so does the king, who sweeps in to take the microphone from her.
Looking at him up there, I realize he’s nearly as tall as Jaxon and Hudson, and probably as muscular, though the three-piece suit in bright blue that he’s wearing makes it hard to be sure. But that’s where the similarity ends. Sure, Hudson gets his blue eyes from his father, but while they are the exact same shade of cobalt, they couldn’t be more different. Hudson’s are warm and alive, dancing with humor and intelligence even when he’s angry with me. Cyrus’s eyes are just as alive, but they are constantly moving, constantly observing, constantly helping him calculate and adjust.
Everything about Cyrus screams that he is as much a showman as his wife. But unlike Delilah, who works the audience, Cyrus seems happy just to bathe in their adoration. And unlike Delilah, I don’t have to think about who this man is or what he wants. Even without living through Hudson’s painful memory last night, I know Cyrus is a textbook narcissist, one who cares about nothing more than his own power and prestige.
One who is willing to turn his own son into the greatest weapon the world has ever seen if it means he can use him to increase that adoration.
Delilah fascinates me even as I refuse to trust her. Cyrus just disgusts me.
My gaze darts to Hudson, concerned about what he must be thinking or feeling. But he might as well be watching the Home Shopping Network for all the emotion he’s displaying. On a day when they’re selling cookware or something equally as useless to a vampire.
I turn back to Cyrus—who is like a cobra, because it serves everyone best if you don’t take your eyes off him for longer than a second or two—just as he starts to speak. But even as I do, I reach for the armrest between our seats and lay my hand next to Hudson’s, so that just our pinkie fingers are brushing.
Touching but not.
“What an incredible prize we have for you!” He moves across the stage like he owns it, like he was born for this, his accent adding a sophistication to his words I know he doesn’t deserve. Suddenly he pauses and sweeps his hand in front of him to encompass the entire audience. “As you all know, a bloodstone is an incredibly rare and powerful magical object. But I want to let you in on a little secret. This is not just any bloodstone!” He holds the collective breath of everyone in the palm of his hand, and he knows it. He even goes so far as to wink at Delilah before continuing, “As my beautiful wife Queen Delilah mentioned, this particular bloodstone was gifted to the Lords from our personal royal collection. Truly a prize beyond measure for our winning team this year because”—he pauses as the auditorium erupts in cheers again, a wide smile never wavering on his handsome face—“because this bloodstone is in fact the most powerful bloodstone to ever exist.”
He leans forward, his whole demeanor changing as he grips the microphone with both hands and his tone grows somber. “As you all know, we lost our firstborn son sixteen months ago. Hudson was a lot of things—a misguided youth, to be certain—but also the joy of his mother’s and my life. And he was also the most powerful vampire ever born.”
He smiles softly, as though remembering Hudson fondly. But I’ve seen the real Cyrus. He’s not proud of his son. He’s proud that he created him. “I still remember the first time he used his gift to persuade the kitchen staff to swap out my evening blood for Kool-Aid.” He chuckles now and shakes his head, as though a loving parent were remembering his child’s antics, and the auditorium laughs with him, surely just as he planned.
Hudson, meanwhile, is eerily still during this recitation, and I have the distinct feeling Cyrus isn’t sharing the full story with his audience.
“He wasn’t as amused then, as he’s implying, huh?” I venture a guess.
Hudson snort-laughs. “Sure. If you consider banning me from feeding for a month as amused.”