The Court of Shadows (Vampyria Saga) by Victor Dixen

Author:Victor Dixen [Dixen, Victor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amazon Crossing
Published: 2023-09-18T16:00:00+00:00

At dinner, as if to echo my conversation with Naoko, fate places Tristan and Rafael at my table, just like on the evening of my arrival.

The young Spaniard seemed immediately friendly, if a little shy, when we first spoke. Now that I know his secret, he’s even more likable, forced to play a role, same as me. I’d like to talk to him, to tell him that I had a brother who also loved someone he wasn’t supposed to . . . but of course, I don’t. He remains silent throughout the dinner, using his utensils to fiddle with his food, lost in thought, his eyebrows furrowed. The prospect of seeing Suraj at our art-of-vampyrism lesson, probably for the first time in almost a year, must distress him.

Tristan makes up for his tablemate’s muteness with pleasant conversation. Over the past month, I’ve gone out of my way to encourage the feelings he seems to have for me. He’s become my source of information on everything that happens in the boys’ wing, and I suspect that he’ll be even more useful later on.

“I’ve heard that you yet again outshone everyone during your art-of-conversation class,” he tells me, pushing his dessert plate away. “I’m glad I won’t be pitted against you for the Sip of the King. I don’t know anyone with a more biting wit than yours.”

“That’s no doubt because I’m predestined to transmute into a vampyre, hence my biting wit,” I shoot back, not missing a beat. “As far as you’re concerned, Saint-Loup told us that you managed to disarm three attackers at one time in your saber lesson. Impressive.”

His blue eyes seem to shine a little brighter at my compliment. Just as I’m a front-runner among the girls, Tristan is well in the lead among the boys. It’s all the more ironic that the court repulses us both, and that he’s competing for the Sip of the King to please his mother—an assertive woman, it seems, as overbearing as my own mother.

“I may have my chances,” he acknowledges modestly. “Except in the art of equestrianism, where Rafael beats us out every time. Everyone knows Spaniards are the masters of dressage, and he’s the master of them all.”

He nods at Rafael, but the latter doesn’t cheer up. Poor soul. For him, perhaps the Sip of the King isn’t about racking up honors but a last-ditch effort to hold on to a lost love . . .

“Can you imagine if on October thirty-first you and I are both named squires?” Tristan tells me. “We’d make a fine team. It would be amazing.”

“Amazing, indeed,” I say, fluttering my eyelashes to make him melt.

And even more amazing, my dear boy: the King of Shadows’ head rolling on the ground, after I’ve pierced his heart and slit his throat.

As if to quiet my thoughts, the strident warning bell rings in the towers of Versailles. Night is falling, and with it comes the absolute reign of the vampyres.

“Mesdemoiselles, messieurs, it’s time,” Madame Thérèse announces. “Dress warmly and follow me and the general into the courtyard in orderly and silent fashion.

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