Havelock looked as if he wanted to argue, but Evangeline didn’t give him the chance. She darted up the stairs, rabbit quick.
She was halfway up the stairs when: Dah-dah-dah-daaaaaah!
Trumpets, an entire host of them, loud and celebratory, filled the castle with music.
Evangeline’s steps faltered. Why were trumpets sounding? She should have brushed it aside; she didn’t have much time if she wanted to trail Jacks. But then she heard the giggling. A few feet down the hall, a pair of young maids were huddled together. “Do either of you know what that music was all about?”
The taller of the girls looked at Evangeline askance, but the shorter one was politer. She answered with an apologetic smile, “I think it’s part of the welcome ceremony for Prince Lucien. He surprised everyone by arriving early.”
The hallway started to spin. Why had no one told her he’d arrived early? She’d been busy, but someone should have found her.
“I’m sure someone would have informed you,” the petite maid blurted as if guessing her thoughts. “But I heard Prince Lucien was worried it would be insensitive to make you watch the event where he replaced your beloved as heir. That’s why he rushed up the ceremony.”
“So thoughtful,” the taller maid said dreamily.
“I like him already,” the short maid agreed.
I want to punch him, Evangeline thought.
It wasn’t just that the new heir had arrived early, it was the underhanded nature of it. She should have been invited to the ceremony.
Why had Lucien left her out? She didn’t believe for a second that it was to spare her feelings. Of course, she didn’t have time to worry about that now. She needed to follow Jacks.
“Princess Evangeline,” intoned a voice from behind her.
It was tempting not to turn, but then two soldiers appeared by her side. Both were dressed in the Acadian royal colors—bronze, gold, and maroon—but she did not recognize either one.
“You’ve been summoned to the receiving solarium,” said the one on her right. “Prince Lucien has requested your immediate presence.”
* * *
Evangeline tried to muster her optimism as she followed these unknown guards. But all she felt was a growing pit inside her. It was unnerving that she had not been invited to Lucien’s coronation, yet she was practically being dragged to meet him now.
As she neared her destination, the air warmed and sweetened with the scent of mulled wine and poorly timed celebrations. The solarium was rarely used for evening meetings. With stretching walls of windows that invited in the light, it was meant for daylight hours or the occasional sunset soirée. But the new heir must not have known that. Tonight, the waiting hall outside it was full of life and light, candles dripping from chandeliers, chatting guests with painted cheeks, and loud laughs that edged on drunken.
It seemed she was not the only one who’d been invited to meet Lucien. But apparently, she was meant to be seen first. The soldiers directed her past all the others, to another pair of guards who immediately parted the arched solarium doors.
Evangeline painted on a smile, hid her bandaged hand behind her skirts, and stepped forward gamely. She did not expect to find the saint the papers had described, but she was ready to feign the required pleasure at meeting the young man who was taking Apollo’s place on the throne.
Lucien kept the solarium darker than the lively outer hall. The moon spied through the towering windows, a waning crescent that added atmosphere but no illumination. Candles burned in sconces, but they brought more smoke than light, varnishing the room in haze that might have intrigued others but made Evangeline slow her steps. All was dim, save for the area directly in front of the blazing fire, where the heir sat sprawled in a wingback chair, twirling a golden crown.
“Good evening,” she forced out cheerfully, taking another step closer to the amber firelight. But as soon as she reached it, her limbs refused to move.
This young man was not the heir—or even truly a young man anymore. He was too unnaturally handsome, his eyes were too luminous, his jaw could slice a diamond, and his golden-brown skin actually glowed.
He was a vampire.
And the first boy she had ever loved.
6
Luc gave her a crooked smile, still twirling the golden crown around his fingers as if it were a child’s toy. “Hello, Eva.”
Evangeline clenched her hands into fists.
Once, she might have run to him. Once, she might have wept for him. Now, she wanted to throw things at him. Sharp, hurtful things.
Luc had once been the boy she’d thought that she would marry, but the last time she’d seen him, he’d been locked in a cage as part of a ceremony to become a vampire. Jacks had warned her against saving him—but she had listened to her heart instead. She’d helped free Luc, and he’d thanked her by trying to rip out her throat with his teeth.