he lifted his mouth she knew the wound was gone. Carefully, so as not to smear her lipstick, she ran her tongue across his lips.
“I have something for you,” David said, the words a whispered secret between them.
“I bet you do,” she replied impishly.
Reluctantly, he turned away to retrieve a flat box from the dresser. He opened it and showed her its contents: a set of earrings and a ring, stones and setting a flawless match to her Signet.
“They’re perfect,” she said, letting him put the jewelry on her. He lifted her hands and kissed her fingers before slipping the ring on her middle finger next to her wedding band.
“Now you’re ready,” David told her with a smile.
A knock at the door, and the guard outside told them it was time to head for the ballroom.
“Faith,” Miranda called.
“I’m right behind you,” the Second returned. “Go on ahead.”
Prime and Queen smiled at each other, and Miranda felt the first moment of genuine excitement she’d had in days. Whatever was going to happen, at least for a minute she’d get to dance with her husband like a Disney princess, something she would never have imagined possible for herself a few years ago. This is who I am now.
David bowed and offered his arm. She gave him an almost-graceful curtsy, laughed, and took it, and together they left the suite.
The first time she set foot in the Haven, she was a slave, wasting away from starvation and abuse. She was almost too weak to stand, and she lived in the quiet hell of eternal despair. She had no hope, no will to live, no will at all.
Then a woman had come into her life, and without saying a word, she changed everything. Her dark-honeyed voice, her proud shoulders, the purpose in her stride had awoken something … something fierce, something that would not go quietly into the darkness …
And the next time Cora set foot in the Haven, she, too, was a Queen.
“Are you sure … ?”
They stood near the end of the line of Pairs waiting to descend the grand staircase into the ballroom, she in floor-length velvet and he in his tuxedo. On the far side of the wide double doors she heard a booming voice announcing each Pair one by one. She recognized a few from their state visits three years ago; her Prime had many friends, and the array of names and territories had been dizzying.
Cora turned to Jacob. The syllables of her new home language—Czech—were still a little strange to her, but she tried to honor her Prime and her subjects by becoming as fluent as possible. “I am, my Lord.”
He took her hand and kissed it, giving her that kind, nose-crinkling smile that warmed her to her toes. “I am proud of you,” he said. “You are doing far better than I am with all of this.”
She shrugged. Perhaps her stomach was quaking a little from nerves, perhaps not, but the truth was: “I have nothing to fear.”
Jacob nodded. “That’s right, my love. You are now the equal of anyone here. Not to mention you have your yeti to watch over you.”
Cora held out her free hand, and in a few seconds a large, shaggy head bumped it. The servant standing nearby made a startled noise as Vràna the Nighthound, Cora’s guardian, appeared from where she had been sitting in the corner and stepped up to her mistress’s side.
Nighthounds had started out as Scottish deerhounds, but centuries of selective breeding had produced an uncannily intelligent creature the size of a pony that could run as fast as a vampire. They were imposing animals, to be sure, but usually quite docile unless called to defend their masters. Vràna rarely left the Queen’s presence, though Cora knew better than to take the dog into the ballroom. Vràna would wait for her out here, quiet in her corner and completely unnoticed.
Cora scratched Vràna’s head, then gestured for her to return to her post. The breeder Prime Deven had acquiredher from had shown Cora a series of one-handed visual cues that Vràna had been taught to obey from
“I have something for you,” David said, the words a whispered secret between them.
“I bet you do,” she replied impishly.
Reluctantly, he turned away to retrieve a flat box from the dresser. He opened it and showed her its contents: a set of earrings and a ring, stones and setting a flawless match to her Signet.
“They’re perfect,” she said, letting him put the jewelry on her. He lifted her hands and kissed her fingers before slipping the ring on her middle finger next to her wedding band.
“Now you’re ready,” David told her with a smile.
A knock at the door, and the guard outside told them it was time to head for the ballroom.
“Faith,” Miranda called.
“I’m right behind you,” the Second returned. “Go on ahead.”
Prime and Queen smiled at each other, and Miranda felt the first moment of genuine excitement she’d had in days. Whatever was going to happen, at least for a minute she’d get to dance with her husband like a Disney princess, something she would never have imagined possible for herself a few years ago. This is who I am now.
David bowed and offered his arm. She gave him an almost-graceful curtsy, laughed, and took it, and together they left the suite.
The first time she set foot in the Haven, she was a slave, wasting away from starvation and abuse. She was almost too weak to stand, and she lived in the quiet hell of eternal despair. She had no hope, no will to live, no will at all.
Then a woman had come into her life, and without saying a word, she changed everything. Her dark-honeyed voice, her proud shoulders, the purpose in her stride had awoken something … something fierce, something that would not go quietly into the darkness …
And the next time Cora set foot in the Haven, she, too, was a Queen.
“Are you sure … ?”
They stood near the end of the line of Pairs waiting to descend the grand staircase into the ballroom, she in floor-length velvet and he in his tuxedo. On the far side of the wide double doors she heard a booming voice announcing each Pair one by one. She recognized a few from their state visits three years ago; her Prime had many friends, and the array of names and territories had been dizzying.
Cora turned to Jacob. The syllables of her new home language—Czech—were still a little strange to her, but she tried to honor her Prime and her subjects by becoming as fluent as possible. “I am, my Lord.”
He took her hand and kissed it, giving her that kind, nose-crinkling smile that warmed her to her toes. “I am proud of you,” he said. “You are doing far better than I am with all of this.”
She shrugged. Perhaps her stomach was quaking a little from nerves, perhaps not, but the truth was: “I have nothing to fear.”
Jacob nodded. “That’s right, my love. You are now the equal of anyone here. Not to mention you have your yeti to watch over you.”
Cora held out her free hand, and in a few seconds a large, shaggy head bumped it. The servant standing nearby made a startled noise as Vràna the Nighthound, Cora’s guardian, appeared from where she had been sitting in the corner and stepped up to her mistress’s side.
Nighthounds had started out as Scottish deerhounds, but centuries of selective breeding had produced an uncannily intelligent creature the size of a pony that could run as fast as a vampire. They were imposing animals, to be sure, but usually quite docile unless called to defend their masters. Vràna rarely left the Queen’s presence, though Cora knew better than to take the dog into the ballroom. Vràna would wait for her out here, quiet in her corner and completely unnoticed.
Cora scratched Vràna’s head, then gestured for her to return to her post. The breeder Prime Deven had acquiredher from had shown Cora a series of one-handed visual cues that Vràna had been taught to obey from
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