Chapter 34

OCTAVIA

I have concerns.

Red saunters into Castle St Clair's casino on the other side of the grounds like she owns the place. She's wearing a tapered suit. It's blood-red and matches the corset and trousers I'm wearing tonight. There's a hanky with an embroidered red O sticking up from her jacket pocket.

To everyone else, she looks confident, assured and rather dapper, if I say so myself.

And yet. I am concerned.

The casino is full to the brim with vampire nobles. Both hunters and vampires share card tables. Bottles of blood and whisky line the table lips and dealers dish out cards. The air is alive with competition and tension. It buzzes with a faint static energy. This kind of hunger can only be slaked by a score of wins and losses and the exchange of money, pride and the sweet scent of spite-fuelled bets.

Lincoln rests against the far wall. It seems he, too, is the only other person to notice what I notice. He narrows his eyes at her and then glances at me. My lips press thin in response.

He sees the same fatigue I see. For all the time he's spent with Dahlia, he still knows his friend. And we both have concerns tonight.

It's dangerous. A tipping point from which we cannot return.

The casino consists of sections. In the heart of the building is a circular bar. A central meeting point of sorts. The far side of the building holds racetracks for demonic little hell dogs. Filling the rest of the expanse are tables with dealers ready to open any game players desire and screened-off areas where more contentious rounds are played. In each situation, vampires watch hunters with barely concealed suspicion and vice versa. The knife's edge of hostility is palpable. Through it all, Servers wearing little more than string wander with trays of drinks and goblets. There's a boxing ring here too, though tonight it sits quiet and empty.

I'm offered a goblet of blood by a server wearing nothing but a G-string and nipple tassels. She averts her gaze as I glance at her tray of goblets.

I sigh, frustrated with the way most humans treat me. It's worse now that I'm seeing progress. The more often someone decides to be brave and make eye contact with me, the more hope grows and the harder I find it when normality returns, and someone treats me with fear or disdain. I pause before selecting a goblet and tip her chin up to look at me. She trembles against my touch.

"I wish only to thank you, not hurt you, okay?" I say.

She nods, the smallest of smiles breaking across her lips. She dares to hold my gaze a moment longer and then bobs her head at me, dipping into a curtsey.

My back itches, like eyes are boring into me. Which is when I spot Red. Her arms are folded, nostrils flared as her gaze shreds pieces of me from afar.

I sigh and make my way over. There was nothing in the touch. And yet, if she had done the same, I may well have severed the head of the server girl. A mistake, one I shan't commit again.

Verity's jaw clenches, and I swear I hear the crack of molars. "Red..." I say.

"You'll be punished for that later." Then she turns her back on me and marches to the bar, downing a shot of something before I can stop her.

She makes her way to the dog lanes, leaning over and watching the hounds run around the outside track. I down the goblet of blood and make my way over to her when Lincoln stops me.

"Yes?" I ask.

"What's wrong with her?" he says, standing in my way.

I don't even attempt to hide my irritation. "Move."

"I asked you a question."

"Just because you're in this competition, don't mistake the fact you're still breathing for patience. If you don't get out of my way, I will happily drain you where you stand."

He shakes his head at me. It amazes me he can sneer down his nose at me while not actually making eye contact.

"I am concerned about my friend, and you're the one that seems to spend the most time with her now," he says.

Much as I appreciate him showing care for his friend, I can't answer his questions. For one, I don't know what he's told Dahlia, and two, I'm not sure I can trust him. Besides, the fewer people that have knowledge of Red, the better.

"And you're in my way. Leave." It's cruel, but it keeps him safe and alive in the long run. Sometimes we have to do awful things for the right reason.

He huffs and meets my gaze at last. "Dahlia was right about you. You're nothing but a scourge on this city. I hope she wins, and I hope Red sees you for what you are."

A little piece of me shatters. I am so tired of making enemies. All I want is for people to understand me. For me as me to be enough. One step forward with the server, one step back with Lincoln. Will I always be stuck in purgatory? Or will I find a way to win this city's love?

There is nothing I want more.

I want to feel like this city, this place I have called home for a thousand years, wants me. That I belong here as much as any other citizen. What must I do for them to accept me?

Everything I do is to protect them. I foster the economy in my territory because I want to see it prosper. I want to foster real peace, genuine acceptance so that everyone can belong.

Red's knuckles whiten where she grips the rail. I step up next to her but face forward as well.

"I thought the feed last night helped, yet you appear sick," I whisper.

"It did," she says, turning to me.

"Find a card table and take a seat. You shouldn't be standing if you're this weak."

"How am I meant to get through the rest of the trials if I am declining?"

"You know how, Red. You just don't want to do it."

Mother appears across the room, sweeping the crowd with her gaze. She ascends the small raised dais beside the central bar.

"Welcome, nobles, hunters, vampires and humans. Tonight is an evening of revelry. Of fun and games, of cards, and hounds and drinking. Let us forget the sorrows of yesterday and rejoice in what is to come."

My stomach turns, knowing there is more than that to this evening. Across the room, Xavier's eyes find mine. He wears tension like a jacket, all stiff across his shoulders and hard jawline.

Mother opens her arms as the Chief, or should I say Eleanor, strolls onto the small dais next to her.

I try to imagine them loving each other. Try to imagine them holding hands, kissing. The thought promptly makes me feel sick, so I stop imagining it. Even so, I want to see a romantic seed. Something to tell me that Red's vision was correct. They stand next to each other, an icy wasteland of space between them.

Was the story Cordelia told all a lie? Were they really lovers once? Did the same curse that made them also break their love?

I stare hard, desperate to find any shred of evidence that there was once an intimacy between them. But I find nothing.

It's the Chief who speaks next. "Tomorrow night, we will hold the penultimate trial."

She turns to Mother and smiles. It's forced.

Mother turns back to the crowd. "Tomorrow, our contestants will fight. This is the trial of strength. A preparation for what is inside the border."

My stomach sinks. Red's fists ball. She must recognise that she won't get through a fight without drinking human blood. Hell, I'm not even sure she's going to get through tonight.

She stares up at me, and for the first time since I've known her, I find fear buried in her gaze. The sight of that alone is enough to give me nightmares.