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 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.”