Mara's bloodmark makes her a servant of the Royal Court of Vampyrs - until the King accidentally marks her as his mate. Meanwhile, dark unrest stirs among the royal vampyrs, with Mara caught in the crosshairs.
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Aurulus boasts at least once per lesson that he knew my dominant eye was my right. Since wearing the hair clip to keep my hair away from my face, revealing my bloodmark, my aim has improved. And Aurulus makes certain that I do not forget that.
"See?" he bellows when the arrowhead burrows in the center of the target again. "The power of a dominant eye. I had told you, mistress, that you would improve if you got that hair out of your face. And look how much you've improved! Another bullseye."
Archery has become one of my greatest comforts. Especially now that Atlas suspects more than one person behind the growing problems (specifically the potential embezzlement scheme), and my safety at the heart of it all—being able to fire an arrow at a moving target, and to hit its center each time, offers great solace. If Prince Laizef gets me alone again, and I bear my bow and quiver, maybe I'll stand a chance.
As we gather the fired arrows, my mouth flaps, hesitation stalling me. But I pull in a breath and plunge. "Aurulus, is it at all possible to store my bow and arrows in my room?"
He pauses in his collecting to peer sidelong at me. He tugs on his ponytail before saying, "I see no reason why you can't. Especially if it's just for storage."
When he pins me with a look that suggests he knows I want them for more than storage purposes, I turn away, preoccupied with rearranging the arrows. I echo, "Just for storage."
Even though he does not seem convinced, he does not argue with me, and he lets me bring the weapons to my room.
Guards patrol the King's private wing. In pairs, eight remain stationary in the corridor: two at the mouth of the hallway, two at both my and Atlas's bedroom doors, and the final two at the back of the hallway. Maneuvering past their erect forms with a bow and arrow makes me self-conscious, shoulders curling in and head bent.
Inside my room, I wonder where to store the weapons. They cannot be in plain sight—I doubt Atlas would approve of keeping such dangerous items close at hand, given my history with daggers. But they must also be easily accessible, should a moment call for them. For now, I tuck them in my wardrobe, hidden behind my gowns, cloaks, and tunics.
Being confined to my bedroom brings an itch to my feet, a longing to leave. While wandering alone causes a douse of anxiety, pacing has driven me impatient. Now that I'm armed and protected by guards, to explore the castle offers a salve to this itch.
When I exit the room, a guard approaches and asks gruffly, "Excuse me, but what are your plans?"
"I'd like to visit the servant quarters. Will you arrange an escort for me?"
