Hearts At Stake - By Alyxandra Harvey Page 0,64

two are quite finished courting,” the woman snapped, looking down as she climbed the rope back up to the forest floor. “We don’t have much time.”

My captor slung me over his shoulder and went up the rope, quick as a hummingbird. The light in the woods was faintly gray, the sky like a black pearl. I could feel the approach of dawn, the way I’d never actually felt it before. It was like a weight on my chest, like being wrapped in chains and dropped into the ocean. The guards felt it just as keenly as I did, I could tell by the way they lowered their heads and ran faster than I’d ever seen a vampire run. The trees blurred into shadows, the leaves slapping at us faintly as we passed. Coyotes yipped hysterically from the valley behind us. The mountain loomed closer and closer, blocking out the shimmer of light on the horizon. The woman cursed. They ran faster. I hoped they crumbled into ashes, even if it meant I would too.

And then we were at the caves and they leaped inside as if their feet were on fire. The first spear of sunlight hurled from the sky, fell between the branches and struck the ground. It gilded the humus underfoot, the curling ferns, the white birch bark peeling into strips. The woman cursed again.

“Too damn close.”

That would be my very last moment of sunlight. Ever. My skin itched all over. I was certain that if I’d been caught out there, I would have blistered as badly as the other vampires would have.

I was taken down a narrow tunnel and into a circular hall with rugs on the floor and tapestries on the walls. Torches burned and candles were scattered everywhere, like stars on a clear winter night. Ravens cawed from floor to ceiling in wrought-iron cages, eyes gleaming like jet beads. The few vampires there stopped what they were doing and followed us to a white throne, trailing behind us like the train of a wedding dress. Lady Natasha was on her feet, her face so pale it could have been carved out of moonstone. Even her hair seemed stunned, white as orchids. I might have enjoyed that brief moment of victory, if I hadn’t seen Kieran beside her, equally pale. What was he still doing here? Our plan was falling apart around us and there wasn’t a single thing I could do about it.

“Is that Solange Drake?” Lady Natasha’s voice was cold enough to crack steel. I couldn’t quite place her accent. It seemed vaguely French, vaguely Russian.

The guard still carrying me lowered himself to one knee.

“Yes, my lady. We found her in the woods.”

“Did you now?” She turned her head a fraction of an inch toward Kieran. He was staring at me, so many emotions chasing across his face that I didn’t have time to decipher them all.

Our plan hadn’t worked after all.

Natasha gestured to a silver plate on which lay a roasted heart, swimming in a pond of blood. The pearl-studded iron box Kieran had taken from the chest before leaving me to go hunting sat nearby. “And what, pray tell, is this delicacy I was about to consume?”

Kieran didn’t answer, didn’t look away from me as I was released to tumble to the carpet.

“I asked you a question, boy.” One backhand and Kieran was crashing into the table, scattering a vase of roses, a crystal bowl, and the silver plate. The heart hit the side of the throne and slid slowly down in a syrupy trail of blood. I would have gagged, but even my throat was too tired from the bloodchange to react. Kieran coughed, rubbing his chest as he pushed himself up into a sitting position.

“It’s a deer heart,” he replied without inflection.

“How very clever,” she purred. One of the royal guards winced at the sound. She raised an eyebrow at the guard still on one knee. “We’ve much to do apparently. The ball will go on as planned, and we’ll set the Drake girl up on the dais so that everyone can watch her die, along with any threat to our unity.”

“No.” Kieran leaped to his feet.

She smiled at him.

“And you’ll watch every moment of it, after which, I will pull your heart out of your puny rib cage and eat it. Seeing as I was denied my treat.”

“Solange doesn’t want your throne or Montmartre,” Kieran insisted, crouching to put his back to a tapestry of a maiden drinking from