Hearts At Stake - By Alyxandra Harvey Page 0,32

Solange was summoned,” Marguerite murmured disapprovingly. “The rest of you may wait here.” She pointed to a long church bench. My brothers sat obediently, without a word. That was enough to scare me, even without the whole matriarch thing. “You”—she turned to me—“may follow me.”

I took a deep breath and trailed her down the hallway. There were several doors leading into drawing rooms and parlors and a huge dining room. She ignored them all and went straight back to a set of French doors, opened up into a long ballroom with polished parquet floors and tapestries on the wall.

“Madame.” Marguerite bowed her head. “She has arrived.”

Veronique sat on one of those curved padded benches that were in every medieval movie I’d ever seen. She wore a long blue-gray gown with intricate embroidery along the hem and trailing bell sleeves. Her hair was hazelnut brown, her eyes so pale they were nearly colorless, like water. She was so still, she didn’t look real. There was something definitely not-human in her face. I swallowed convulsively. I was so nervous I thought I might throw up on her. When she moved, just an inch, I jumped.

“Mon Dieu,” she murmured in a voice as distant and mysterious as the northern lights. “Your heart is like a little hummingbird.”

“I’m sorry.” I wasn’t sure why I was apologizing, only that it seemed best. Some instinct inside me trembled, like a rabbit under the shadow of an eagle. For all her porcelain beauty, she was a predator.

“So you are Solange Drake,” she said, considering.

“Yes, Madame.” I curtsied, putting every detail Hyacinth had painstakingly taught me into it. This was no courtesy bob a la Jane Austen; this was a full court curtsy. I stepped my right foot behind my left and bent my knees out and not forward. I went as low as I could without toppling over or sticking my butt out. I bent my head slightly. I prayed really hard that she’d be impressed.

“Very good,” she said. “You may rise.”

I stood back up and wobbled only a little. “Thank you, Aunt Hyacinth.”

“I am gratified to know your family has taught you proper etiquette.”

“Thank you, Madame.” Could she tell I was starting to sweat? It was hard to just stand there under her scrutiny. She was so composed, so hard.

“I understand Lady Natasha has summoned you to her court.”

“Yes, Madame.”

“She is not to be trusted, that one.”

“No, Madame.”

“You know the prophecy, of course.”

I nodded.

“We’ve been waiting a long time for a girl to be born to us.”

Great, no pressure.

“Your bloodchange is fast approaching. I can smell it on you. Even frightened as you are, your heart beats slower than it ought to.”

I wondered if that was why I felt like I might pass out. I lifted my chin. I was not going to embarrass myself or my family.

“I would have you strong enough to survive, little Solange. I may not want the royal courts for my own, but I won’t have them taken from our family as if we are nothing.”

She picked up a long silver chain from the small table beside her. The vial on the end was clear, capped with silver and held with more silver work, curled to look like ivy leaves.“Do you know what this is?”

“No, I don’t.” She held it up. From this angle I could see the vial held a dark red liquid inside. “Oh. It’s blood.”

“My own, to be precise.” She twirled it once. I watched it, mesmerized despite myself. “I do not share my blood lightly—only in extreme circumstances, you understand.”

I didn’t understand actually. But if she made me drink that, I really would throw up on her.

“I am prepared to give this to you. When your birthday arrives, drink it and it will give you the strength you need to claim your legacy.”

This probably wasn’t a good time to tell her I didn’t want to be queen.

“Your brothers didn’t need it; the Drake men have been turning for centuries. But you’re different. I am curious to see how this will play out, and precious little incites my curiosity these days.”

So maybe being the bearded lady at the carnival wasn’t so bad after all.

“You will, of course, have to prove yourself worthy.”

“Of . . . course.” Because just handing it over would be too easy. “How do I do that?”

“There are skills every Drake woman should know, to honor her heritage. We will begin with embroidery.”

My mouth hung open. “Embroidery?” I sucked at embroidery. Aunt Hyacinth had tried