Sleeping Beauty (13 page)

“I am not.” She put her hand on his chest, but he pulled it off. “I'm almost fifteen,” she said.

He backed into a leather-topped wooden horse. “Lucy, I'll be eighteen soon. The age difference is too much. I've never met your father, but I'm quite sure he'd kill me.”

“No, you're wrong. He wouldn't. In fact, he's been making me date since I was thirteen.”

Tristan looked shocked at that, so she stepped forward and cornered him against the horse. Just a few more inches and their bodies would touch. But he slid to the side and rounded the horse to put the large apparatus between them.“I'm sorry if I did something to give you the wrong idea.”

Every boy who showed up to her father's Friday-night galas found her appealing, so why wasn't Tristan interested?

Realizing the likely truth, she crossed her arms over her chest and backed up a few steps. Those stupid boys liked her because she was a princess. They were trying to get on the good side of the king. None of them thought she was pretty or really liked
her
; they just pretended to. How humiliating. Her eyes narrowed and she squeezed her lips together, wishing she could erase the entire night.

“My graduation is in a few weeks,” Tristan said. “After that, I'll be going home to Judra. If you like, I'll keep training you until I leave, but I understand if you'd rather not.” He looked down.“I'm sure Hans would be happy to continue practicing with you.”

Her heart pinched, and she turned away to hide the pain she knew was spreading all over her face.

“Just forget it,” she snapped. She stomped to the back door, behind which the groom who'd brought her was waiting.

At the door, she turned back. “I'll see you tomorrow night.” As hard as it was to imagine training with Tristan after tonight's fiasco, it was even harder to imagine never seeing him again.

“Why so sad?” Her father cupped her face, rubbing her cheek with his thumb like he used to when she was little.

She couldn't tell her father the truth—that she was devastated because her secret slayer trainer had rejected her and had moved home to Judra—and she wondered what she could tell him without lying. Even though she'd been deceiving her father, she avoided outright lies whenever possible.

“Is it boy trouble?” he asked.

Surprised he'd guessed, she nodded as tears filled her eyes. She felt like a total baby, crying in front of her father like this, but ever since Tristan's rejection three weeks ago she'd felt like crying all the time.

Her mother, sensing her sadness was related to her trainer's departure, had offered to find a replacement. Even her mother didn't get it.

Too humiliated to tell her the truth, Lucette had turned down her mother's offer. Her mother was so delicate and pretty, Lucette figured she had probably never been rejected by a boy. How could she have been? She'd met her future husband so young, and gotten married when she was not much older than Lucette was now.

Her father pulled her into his arms. “I'm so sorry. With all your dates chaperoned, I didn't think anything bad would happen. Which one of those boys hurt you?”

She pulled back. “It's not like that, Dad.”

“Then what?”

Her lips started to tremble, but she took a deep breath to calm herself. “I like a boy more than he likes me.”

“Oh, that's not possible!”

“No, Dad, it's true. And I don't just like him, I love him, but he doesn't love me.”

The look of concern in her father's eyes turned to warm sympathy. “Oh, Lucette. I'm so sorry. Tell me who he is and I'll have a word with him.”

She pulled back. “No!”

“But if I can help . . .”

She shook her head.“No, Dad. This is one area of my life where you can't help. You can't make a boy love me with a royal decree. Besides, he moved away.”

Her father embraced her gently. “If he didn't love you, then he's a very foolish boy, indeed, and not the one you were meant to love. Don't despair, I'll introduce you to more boys at Friday evening's reception. One of them is bound to help you forget this young man.”

Lucette buried her face in her father's chest. Even if he was wrong about this, it felt so good to be wrapped up in his arms and, for just a few minutes, to believe that he could keep her safe forever.

Looking into her mirror in her bedroom, Lucette twisted to the side and smoothed her hands down her ribs and over her hips. Just days from her sixteenth birthday, she finally had the womanly figure everyone claimed she would. Dressed in her exercise clothes, the closest thing to a slayer uniform she owned, her new curves were easy to see—even if she was still broader in the shoulders and more solid and muscular than most girls.

Her hair had grown again too, but she kept it cut just below her shoulders. It was long enough to put into a tight braid and out of the way for training, but short enough to keep some spring in her curls when her hair flowed around her face.

Her mother had been right about something else, too. Her oversized blue eyes, sharp cheekbones, and strong brows didn't look so freakish anymore. She finally saw her resemblance to her father, as if she were the softer, more feminine version of his handsome self. Boys had certainly noticed, too. She no longer worried that they were flattering her just to please her father, but so far, not one of them had made her feel even a fraction of what she had for Tristan. Ever since he'd gone back to Judra, she hadn't heard a word from him. Not that she'd expected to. He didn't know where to write her, even if he wanted to. He didn't even know her real name.

Enough about boys
, she thought. Now that she was about to turn sixteen, her main priorities were keeping her hands prick-free and her neck bite-free. She picked up a stake and the wood felt secure in her hand, but she looked down at her gloves lying on the bed alongside the dress she'd worn that day. If she wanted to keep handling stakes after her birthday, she should get used to holding them with gloved hands. A splinter would spell disaster.

But before she could put the gloves on, something crashed outside her bedroom door. She spun toward the sound, instinctively moving into a fighting stance. A guard always stood outside her door—one of a group her mother trusted with their secrets—but she heard another crash and knew something was definitely wrong. Still holding her stake, she ran over to the door and then opened it slowly.

According to her father's crazy rules—rules she always followed while at the palace and under his watchful eye—she wasn't supposed to handle doorknobs herself, not even with her gloves on, but she didn't have time to go back for her hand protection. Besides, she had three whole days before she turned sixteen. It didn't really matter yet.

She glanced down the hall, but there was no sign of her guard. She crept into the corridor, moving silently, her senses on high alert, just as Tristan had taught her. From around the corner of the corridor emerged two men locked in combat. One was her guard who fell onto his back, and an impossibly fast male—he had to be a vampire—leaped into view. The vampire bent, picked up the guard by his lapel, and began to bite. Lucette sprang into action, rushing forward, adrenaline pumping though her veins.

Two of the palace slayers leaped for the vampire, but the creature deftly slithered out of their way and headed toward Lucette.

“Princess, back to your room!” one of the slayers commanded. Instead, Lucette planted a perfect side kick into the advancing vampire's chest.

Clearly not expecting that, the vampire staggered backward. But before he could decide whether to attack her or deal with the slayers coming up from behind, she ran, did a round-off to gain power, and then planted her foot in the side of his head. She landed with her stake ready, but couldn't bring herself to plunge it into the dazed creature's
flesh. Up close, it looked so human, so alive, so clearly terrified at finding itself at her mercy.

She was still looking into the vampire's eyes when one of the slayers drove a stake into it from behind. She staggered back.

This was nothing like seeing a straw dummy staked, or even watching real slaying from a safe distance. She covered her mouth with her hand, hoping she wouldn't be sick.

The slayers and her guard snapped to attention, and Lucette spun to the side to see why.

She gasped.

“Lucette!” Her father shook with rage. “When, where, and how did you learn to do that?”

“I don't blame her, I blame
you
.” Lucette's father glared at her mother.

Lucette cringed. “But, Dad, it was all my idea. I pressured her, I begged her.” That wasn't exactly the truth, but if it helped keep the peace, lying was worth it. “I wanted to know a few slayer moves, in case the worst happened.”

Listening, her father's face softened, but then his anger returned. “It doesn't matter whose idea this was. If this has been going on behind my back for nearly three years . . .” He shook his head slowly, his eyes narrow and his lips tense. “This is an unforgivable betrayal.” He turned to his wife. “You had to know that.”

Lucette's mother held her chin high. “I suppose I did.”

“Yet you did it anyway.”

“I did it to keep our daughter safe.” Her mother's voice was calm yet determined.

“To protect her, you thrust her into abject danger?” He looked at her mother with so much scorn it made Lucette's skin crawl.

“You're a fool if you think you can stop this curse.” Her mother stomped her foot, losing a bit of her control. “If you had your way, she'd be thrust into the darkness totally unprepared. She'd get bitten the first night.” Her mother looked down, as if ashamed by her outburst.

“Mom, Dad,” Lucette began. She could fix this. She had to. She might be the reason they were fighting, the reason they always fought, but she could also be the reason they made up.“Can't we put this behind us? I know you both want me to be safe and happy. Dad, I know you want to prevent the curse from happening”—she stared at her ungloved fingers—“and Mom wants that, too. We all do. But if the worst happens, at least I'm prepared for that now. Isn't that a good thing?” She forced a smile onto her face. “I'm so lucky to have you two as parents.”

Her father crossed his arms over his chest. “Lucette, please leave the room.”

“Why?” Her throat tightened.

“Because I need to have a private word with your mother.” His voice was so hard, so sharp. He had never spoken to her in that tone before.

“She can stay if she wants,” her mother said. “This concerns her, and she's nearly sixteen. You can't treat her like a child anymore. You've been pushing her to date since she was barely thirteen, and yet you want to shelter her from the very real dangers she faces. You can't have it both ways, Stefan.”