that Druid is a female?”
His expression took on an obstinate turn. “They accepted Rosalind. They will accept you.”
Impulsively she reached out and cupped his cheek. “Can you at least wait until we have solved this problem with the queen? By then we should both have a fair idea whether I am worthy to be a Vampire slayer or not.”
“Verity—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Please, Rhys. I promise I will abide by your decision then.”
He removed her hand and stared down at her. “ If we both survive to have that discussion.”
“If we don’t, then I wasn’t worthy of the job anyway, was I?” She stepped away from him and curtsied. “Good night, Sir Rhys.”
The clock struck midnight and Verity eased herself into a more comfortable position on the narrow straw-filled pallet. The lady-in-waiting who lay beside her in the queen’s antechamber was already fast asleep and Verity had no intention of waking her.
Verity had no problem staying awake. Her whole body was alert, thanks to her desire to safeguard the queen and the earlier fight with the two Vampires.
Not to mention her altercation with Rhys . . .
A single candle burned by the small window, casting flickering shadows on the paneled walls. The door to the bedchamber had been left ajar so that if Queen Jane needed anything she could call out to her ladies. It was so quiet that Verity could hear the queen’s even breathing. She glanced at the window and wondered whether Rhys was nearby. He’d told her that he intended to remain close.
Not that she wished to see Rhys Williams. His lofty demand that she reveal the mark of Awen to everyone terrified her. She’d spent years being told she should be ashamed of it, by her parents and then by her husband. Why should everything change now?
As Rhys had agreed, she wasn’t Rosalind. She never could be. Her cousin had stood up against the priests, the Elders, and even their grandfather and asserted her right to be a Vampire slayer. But Verity knew it had cost Rosalind dearly. She’d been forced to inhabit a world where she was mistrusted by many of her male peers and avoided by the females, who thought she had behaved in an unwomanly fashion.
For a long while, Verity had secretly wished she too could have Rosalind’s life—until she’d recognized the stark reality of Rosalind’s isolation. Even if it was a disloyal thought, she wasn’t surprised that Rosalind had found love outside the charmed circle of her Druid brethren.
A scratching noise made Verity open her eyes wide and slowly sit up. She held her breath as the sound grew louder and was followed by an ominous creak. She inhaled and caught the faint scent of pansies on her tongue, followed by something more male. She had to assume that more than one Vampire was approaching.
The candle flame flickered and went out, leaving her in complete darkness. She tensed as the hairs on her arm prickled and her head began to ache. Someone was using magic.
Verity felt for her dagger and crawled slowly toward the half-open door that led to the queen’s bedchamber. She could only hope that whoever was inside the room didn’t have a candle, or they would easily see her pale nightgown.
Hardly daring to breathe, Verity used the heavy oak side table next to the door to lever herself up a little. There was no sound of voices from inside the room, which only affirmed her suspicions that whoever was there was up to no good.
She strained her eyes and tried to make out the ghostly shapes that now hovered around the queen’s bed. The sharp sweet tang of blood assaulted her senses, along with the gentle sound of sucking.
There was no time to call Rhys. She would have to go into the chamber and find out exactly what was going on. Verity slowly stood up and then froze as a heavily beringed hand descended on her shoulder.
“Lady Verity, what are you doing?”
Verity’s breath hissed out as she realized it was Lady Rochford, dressed in her
His expression took on an obstinate turn. “They accepted Rosalind. They will accept you.”
Impulsively she reached out and cupped his cheek. “Can you at least wait until we have solved this problem with the queen? By then we should both have a fair idea whether I am worthy to be a Vampire slayer or not.”
“Verity—”
She pressed her fingers to his lips. “Please, Rhys. I promise I will abide by your decision then.”
He removed her hand and stared down at her. “ If we both survive to have that discussion.”
“If we don’t, then I wasn’t worthy of the job anyway, was I?” She stepped away from him and curtsied. “Good night, Sir Rhys.”
The clock struck midnight and Verity eased herself into a more comfortable position on the narrow straw-filled pallet. The lady-in-waiting who lay beside her in the queen’s antechamber was already fast asleep and Verity had no intention of waking her.
Verity had no problem staying awake. Her whole body was alert, thanks to her desire to safeguard the queen and the earlier fight with the two Vampires.
Not to mention her altercation with Rhys . . .
A single candle burned by the small window, casting flickering shadows on the paneled walls. The door to the bedchamber had been left ajar so that if Queen Jane needed anything she could call out to her ladies. It was so quiet that Verity could hear the queen’s even breathing. She glanced at the window and wondered whether Rhys was nearby. He’d told her that he intended to remain close.
Not that she wished to see Rhys Williams. His lofty demand that she reveal the mark of Awen to everyone terrified her. She’d spent years being told she should be ashamed of it, by her parents and then by her husband. Why should everything change now?
As Rhys had agreed, she wasn’t Rosalind. She never could be. Her cousin had stood up against the priests, the Elders, and even their grandfather and asserted her right to be a Vampire slayer. But Verity knew it had cost Rosalind dearly. She’d been forced to inhabit a world where she was mistrusted by many of her male peers and avoided by the females, who thought she had behaved in an unwomanly fashion.
For a long while, Verity had secretly wished she too could have Rosalind’s life—until she’d recognized the stark reality of Rosalind’s isolation. Even if it was a disloyal thought, she wasn’t surprised that Rosalind had found love outside the charmed circle of her Druid brethren.
A scratching noise made Verity open her eyes wide and slowly sit up. She held her breath as the sound grew louder and was followed by an ominous creak. She inhaled and caught the faint scent of pansies on her tongue, followed by something more male. She had to assume that more than one Vampire was approaching.
The candle flame flickered and went out, leaving her in complete darkness. She tensed as the hairs on her arm prickled and her head began to ache. Someone was using magic.
Verity felt for her dagger and crawled slowly toward the half-open door that led to the queen’s bedchamber. She could only hope that whoever was inside the room didn’t have a candle, or they would easily see her pale nightgown.
Hardly daring to breathe, Verity used the heavy oak side table next to the door to lever herself up a little. There was no sound of voices from inside the room, which only affirmed her suspicions that whoever was there was up to no good.
She strained her eyes and tried to make out the ghostly shapes that now hovered around the queen’s bed. The sharp sweet tang of blood assaulted her senses, along with the gentle sound of sucking.
There was no time to call Rhys. She would have to go into the chamber and find out exactly what was going on. Verity slowly stood up and then froze as a heavily beringed hand descended on her shoulder.
“Lady Verity, what are you doing?”
Verity’s breath hissed out as she realized it was Lady Rochford, dressed in her
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