"Is it true that all faes have magic?" Emma asked, her hands closing around the edge of the tub in anger, thinking about Maeve.
"From what I've heard, they all do. But Maeve is a goddess. Her magic is dangerous and potent." Her gaze flicked to the door, then back to her. "Even King Victor is afraid of her."
"Does he know what his eldest wants to do with me?" Emma's heart hammered in her chest at her words.
Ginger looked back at the doorway skeptically. She whispered, "I don't want to speak about it."
"Please, Ginger," Emma pushed her. "You must tell me."
"King Victor knows everything. He wants to see you—the woman who would be his son's wife. The woman who Prince Lazarus has chosen for the soul casting ritual."
Emma's mood dropped at the mention of the ritual. "What if I am unable to accept Maeve's soul? I don't want to go through this ritual…"
Ginger's eyes flashed with fear. She ignored her words. "Let's get you ready, Lady Emmalyn. The king doesn't like tardiness."
Emma was terrified at the prospect of sitting with so many vampires at the dinner table. A chill ran across her skin and even the heat of water couldn't cure that chill. She couldn't help thinking of herself as a sacrificial lamb. And she was just not ready for what came next.
Emma stared herself in the mirror, hardly recognizing herself. Her golden hair was pulled back and curled into an elaborate design on the top of her head. Ginger had applied thick kohl along her eyes and golden dust on her eyelids. She looked so different from what she was.
However, for Emma this wasn't the issue. It was her midnight blue dress that fell from her shoulders. It had so many crystals on it that it shined like stars cascading down the whole length. The back of the dress was so low that he fell just above the small of her back. She was bare right from her nape to her back. "I don't like it," she said to Ginger.
"I am sorry, m'lady, but the king wants to see you and assess how strong you would be for his son."
Emma couldn't believe that the king was interested in what she was going to be in the end even as she trembled from the chill of the night. Somehow, she wondered if all this even made sense. It was all adding to the mystery surrounding her.
Soon, she was standing right outside the dining hall, fidgeting with her dress as she tried to breathe.
"You will be fine, m'lady," said Ginger softly. "Are you ready?"
Emma pursed her lips. "I don't think I will ever be ready."
The vampire guard announced her and opened the door. When she entered, she saw several red eyes staring at her in an opulent dining hall. Fresh dose of fear filled her. And as she looked at each of them, she hated herself for only searching for the face of… Lazarus.
The dining table was huge with almost twenty-four chairs. Three large chandeliers hung over it from the ceiling with hundreds of candles lighting them. The servants were standing at the wall, watching every step of hers.
She walked to the table around which the royals were sitting. All vampires. All watching her with wonder and an emotion she couldn't pin. Goosebumps pebbled her skin. She looked away from them and let her gaze fall upon the king who was seated at the head of the table. The chair on his right was empty, and Maeve was sitting on the next chair. Maeve looked down at her with a severe and calculating gaze. Two chairs on the king's left were also empty.
King Viktor was dressed in a white shite shirt and a red cape that was embroidered with golden thread. A crown sat atop him. Spires of gold topped with large rubies and diamonds. His white hair fell on his shoulders. Her gaze went down to his neck where he was wearing a… necklace. Adorned with gems, the golden necklace exuded a powerful aura as if giving life to him. It was impossible for her to remove her eyes from it, but she managed to do the same and bowed to the king.
A hush fell over the room as the king addressed her in an unyielding voice. "Emmalyn," he said. "So you are the girl for the ritual?" His gaze dropped to her nape, to her pulse point which was now throbbing in tension.
Emma shivered under his gaze and under the distress that loomed over her.
King Viktor waved his hand towards an empty chair on his left. "Sit."
A knot settled in her stomach at his command. Slowly she walked to the chair and was about to sit when a servant came rushing and helped her sit on it. Emma flinched under the king's stern gaze. Where was Lazarus? She didn't know why she was hoping for him to be there when he was her tormentor. The one who had brought her to the palace for the ritual.
All eyes settled on her and a murmur started. She hated how Maeve was assessing her. She noticed that Maeve's eyes were more sunken than before and a vein on her neck had darkened. Her hands appeared wrinkly and thick veins stood out. The glow that she possessed earlier had reduced.
As the servants began to serve food to all of them, King Viktor asked her, "Are you pure?"
Emma's mouth opened in the shape of O. "I—I haven't—" What the hell did he mean?
"She is pure, father!" A powerful voice boomed in the background. Emma clenched her jaws. "She has never been fed from."
Lazarus. Her eyes darted to him and their gazes locked.
King Viktor gave Lazarus a tight nod. "Good. Then she is fit for the ritual."
Emma clenched her jaws, panic filling her. She noticed that Maeve gave a loving look to Lazarus.
"Come here, Lazarus," Maeve said, pointing at the chair next to hers.
On an instinct, he took a step towards Emma, but he corrected himself immediately. He was surely not going to sit next to the mortal. He deserved no less than a goddess. Without looking away from Emma he walked to sit next to Maeve. But he absolutely not prepared for what happened next.