Twenty-year-old Claire must deceive a vampire prince to infiltrate the monarchy and discover their secrets while resisting her desire for him.
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Nothing in my life has ever been easy. Including the mission my family has sent me on.
My sister and...
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Être (verb) to be
Once Bastien had left my room, frustration and confusion flooded out of me in heavy sobs that shook my shoulders.
I had so many questions that needed answering, but most importantly was how could a witch blessed with the powers of Diana forsake her people and give herself to a Witch of the Darkness? Willingly and happily. Sighing and gasping with pleasure as he moved inside her.
I was a ruin.
I had no magick.
I was an embarrassment.
But Tansy wasn't. She had white hair which meant she had power.
My sobs continued, and I leaned against the cold glass just to steady myself.
My desire to know what it meant to be close to a man had kept me watching their joining, but somewhere along the way, it became less about my curiosity and more about disbelief.
If Tansy could be with him without remorse, it made me question everything I knew about the world.
Wiping my tears, I took a few deep breaths to slow my crying down.
Were some families not at war with the darkness? Did Tansy's family not have cemeteries filled with the bones of witches who died by horrific demonic curses?
It seemed impossible, but maybe it could be true. But that didn't account for how evil dark witches were. How could anyone trust them?
I recalled Shreesa and her family of witches and how they seemed. Bastien insisted that they practiced their craft within the bounds of the law, and I'd seen no reason to doubt that.
He'd also insisted that the creatures I was raised to fear weren't as bad as I thought, and Tansy seemed to agree.
Coldness seeped through the glass, leaving a burning chill against my skin, but it wasn't the cold that made me shiver or raised an army of goosebumps.
No.
It was my next question.
What if I'd been wrong the whole time? What if I'd been the one who'd been lied to?
Sickness rose in my throat, and I swallowed hard, forcing the sour taste back down.
No. No, that couldn't be true. It couldn't.
Catching sight of a gilded floor-length mirror, I wandered toward it on unsteady legs to look upon the lace choker Mama fitted around my neck.
Slowly, I pulled back my long silver lilac hair and tilted my head to inspect it, which I hadn't had the chance to do since we left the inn.
The scabs beneath the lace were almost healed, but I'd never forget the sickening pain of the barbs as they pierced my skin.
Nor would I ever forget the way the vampire prince sought to save me from the necklace by cutting it off, even before it was his obligation to do so.
