I Dare You to Break Curfew Page 8

  I considered his words. My heart wanted to trust him, but my mind screamed no. I had treaded into unknown territory the second I agreed to Gaige’s little experiment. My stomach coiled.

  The sound of heavy footsteps distracted me from my mounting uncertainty.

  A group of men strode toward us in a phalanx—seven in all. Six men in black-lacquered breastplates, three in a line on both sides of a seventh man in a dapper gray suit. He had short glossy black hair and deathly pale skin. I suspected the Inshari saw very little sunlight. Zaire said it was frowned upon for them to come out during the day. Some of the guards had long hair while others wore theirs in a crew cut, but all had the same shade of caramel. Their stolid faces were reflections of each other. What was it about the Inshari and their weird clothing choices? Except for the guy in the suit, I’d say most of them didn’t know what century they currently lived in.

  Troyan shoved me up against the wall.

  The jarring impact made me bite my tongue. “I’m getting so tired of you—”

  “Whatever you do, keep your head bowed and your gaze on the floor,” he interrupted. “And for the love of everything sacred, only speak when spoken to.”

  Chapter Nine: Throne

  FOLLOWING ORDERS has never been my strongest quality. Once, after I bonded my math teacher to her chair with super glue, the guidance counselor explained to my parents I had authority issues. In my defense, my math teacher had it coming. She made me write one hundred on the blackboard, so I wrote one, zero, zero in words. Because I had understood her instructions differently, she berated me for being a smartass. The whole class laughed at me. The next morning, they had to cut her out of her chair.

  The moment Troyan turned his back on me to face the approaching group, I lifted my gaze. Well, maybe I had changed somewhat since I maintained a half-body bow like I’d seen my father execute for Japanese businessmen.

  My curiosity wouldn’t let me avoid staring at the group with their “all business all the time” expressions. My father maintained the same air. Perversely, I wondered how he’d react if I told him the school hid secrets like vampires responsible for human predation. Would he have me committed?

  Compared to my father’s cold features, though, the man in gray held on to a hint of self-importance in the slant of his chin, the narrowing of his eyes, and the lift of his brow, like he was above everyone else. He had the features of a GQ model and the aura of a dictator. World Domination 101: look the part. Having his eerily identical lackeys by his side fulfilled that requirement too.

  Troyan’s tension affected me. His pose seemed unnatural, bowed head and all, hands plastered to his sides. The hard line of his back and the stiffness of his shoulders oozed a barely leashed aggression. It made me nervous, and I hated being nervous.

  Dictator-man raised his hand, and the phalanx stopped. I had to refrain from recoiling from his tannery smell. He reeked so much the urge to wrinkle my nose almost overpowered my common sense. Thankfully, the rest of his entourage smelled like a candy store: cherry, peppermint, chocolate, caramel, banana swirl, and toffee. I froze when he gave me a quick glance, then his gaze landed on Troyan. He placed his hand on the center of his chest and inclined his head slightly.

  “Effendi,” he said in a “stick up the butt” voice.

  My eyebrows twitched. A new term and one that seemed to refer to Troyan. They were both so formal with each other, so maybe it was some sort of title?

  “Imperator Vladimir,” Troyan answered as he mimicked Vladimir’s gesture before straightening from his inclined position.

  “I trust you will attend Assembly today.” Vladimir lifted his chin.

  “Of course. As my father’s proxy, I would never miss a meeting between the Traditionalists and Reformists.” Troyan remained impassive, with only a slight tightening at the corner of his lips. “After my last class of the day.”

  “How are things with my ward?”

  “I beg your pardon, Vladimir.” Troyan let his hand fall to his side. The tip of his forefinger twitched. “I have yet to see her. Maybe in class today.”

  “I see. We shall remedy the situation. You two need to spend more time together.”

  “I will abide by what you believe is for the best, Imperator.” Troyan tilted his head like a maître d’ at a five-star restaurant about to leave the table. “Would that be all?”

  “Who’s this?” Vladimir’s gaze fell on me, and I dropped mine to the floor. “He is unfamiliar to me.”

  “An exchange student from the north. Excelsior requested—”

  The armored guards tapped their breastplates once and said, “Hail Excelsior!”

  “Yes, hail Excelsior,” Vladimir repeated, halfhearted and insincere.

  “As I was saying,” Troyan continued, “I have been asked to escort him while he familiarizes himself with the palace.”

  “Very well. Carry on.” Vladimir raised his hand again and the group continued their procession down the hall.

  Troyan waited until they rounded a corner before facing me. He spoke through his teeth once again.

  “You were looking at him.”

  “Now that was a vampire.”

  The corner of Troyan’s lips curled upward as if he were suppressing a smile and failing.

  I leaned on the wall, my palms flat on its smooth surface, hopefully absorbing the sweat that had accumulated there. “Forget that for a minute and answer me something: What does Effendi mean?”

  He closed his eyes a second and said, “In your language it refers to a prince.”

  “Whoa.” I played connect the dots. A prince. A palace. Were my childhood dreams of one day stepping into a fairy tale coming true?

  Finally, he opened his eyes. “Perhaps I should have told you that staring directly at the prime minister when your presence is unacknowledged is punishable by death?”

  My brow wrinkled. “I resent that.”

  Troyan cracked his knuckles by clenching his fist.

  “Honestly, why do you have to be this unmanageable?”

  His words hurt—each one an ice pick to my heart.

  To cover up my vulnerability, I said, “Well, we can’t do anything about that now. I’m still alive, so let’s lead with that.”

  Troyan wiped all emotion from his face and stepped back. “Understand this: no one can find out about you. We need to keep you safe until the formula wears off, so you can return to the academy. You have no place here, Camron.”

  “Ouch.” My face fell. I couldn’t meet his gaze anymore.

  Sighing, Troyan placed his finger underneath my chin and tilted my face up until I met his gaze. “Do not misunderstand. This world is no place for a human, even one who is currently mimicking our physiology. Our colony is a very dangerous place.”

  “But Gaige said—”

  “Whatever Gaige said matters little if you fall into the wrong hands.”

  My eyes widened. “Vladimir?”

  “Especially Vladimir, along with anyone from the Traditionalist Party. Beatrix—his ward—is bound by the Silence from telling anyone you’re human, but that hardly keeps you safe from her.”

  “Why would the Traditionalist Party be a danger to me?”

  “If you follow what I have planned, then you will not have to find out.”

  My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.

  “Beatrix does not know you are here, and I would like to keep it that way. She will not speak of you; however, she can still kill you if she had a mind to.”

  I mustered all my resolve and promised, “Won’t happen again.”

  “Good.” Troyan turned toward the end of the hall and left me to follow him.

  After so many right and left turns through similar white corridors, annoyance crept up my throat. I wanted to scream. Too much walking and very little talking made me grumpy. He refused to answer any of my questions… again. So what if I’d messed up with the whole Imperator thing? It didn’t mean he should punish me by shutting up. I hated not know
ing what would happen next.

  “Troy—”

  He shushed me.

  I gaped.

  Before I could argue, we stopped at a T intersection with floor-to-ceiling velvet drapes where the dead end should be. A man in a sleek suit who smelled like freshly brewed coffee stood to the right of the navy curtains, a tablet in his hand. His obsidian eyes widened.

  “Effendi,” he said with a stiff bow. “Shouldn’t you be—”

  “I know, Lev.” Troyan pointed at the drapes. “Is he in chambers? I need a moment with him.”

  Lev eyed me. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  When he disappeared behind the curtains, I pulled on Troyan’s arm until he tilted to meet my height.

  “I guess now is the right time for this,” I said. I cleared my throat and, as if sensing what I was about to ask, Troyan’s jaw ticked. I didn’t care. I asked anyway. “You’re a prince?”

  Troyan straightened, adjusting the sleeve of his shirt and said, “Really not important at all.”

  “Oh, so you’d never tell me? Is that it?”

  “Not exactly.”

  I snorted. “You’d never tell me if keeping it a secret was no longer an option.” I slapped his arm. “Is there anything else I need to know about you?”

  “I promise,” he said, his gaze locking with mine, “I will answer all your questions after this.”

  Lev slid out from between the curtains. “He’ll see you now.”

  “Alone?” Troyan asked.

  Lev nodded. “Make sure to hurry. He has an important meeting with the captain of the Vityas in a few minutes.”

  “Troyan, what’s going on?” I tugged at his sleeve.

  His uncomfortable stare didn’t help settle my nerves. “I need to introduce you to my father—the Excelsior.”

  “Hail Excelsior,” Lev responded without looking up from his tablet. I imagined a neat schedule on it. Add wire-framed glasses and he’d have the complete ensemble of a chic personal assistant.

  “So, what brings you here?” Lev asked after Troyan disappeared behind the curtains.

  I didn’t know how to answer Lev’s question. Troyan said to keep my presence a secret, but he didn’t say to what extent. Lev worked for the Excelsior—Troyan’s dad, who I assumed was the king—so could he be considered trustworthy?

  I waited too long to answer because Lev said, “Right. You won’t tell me. I understand. But to have the Effendi Excelsi introducing you to his father”—he raised an obnoxious eyebrow—“that’s big. Very big.”

  The way Lev said “very” made me flinch. I stared dumbfounded at the navy fabric. I was about to meet Troyan’s dad. No! Oh no, no, no! I studied the marble floor, following the dark veins. Why couldn’t he have been a normal Inshari? Why did he have to be a prince? An Effendi Excelsi. I assumed that was some sort of crown prince.

  I suppressed the urge to rub my temples. I managed to land in a pretty deep pile of crap. And the how of digging myself out escaped me. Troyan returned before I worked myself into hyperventilating.

  “Come on,” he said.

  My hands grew damp. I had never done the whole meet-the-parents thing before. Seeing that I wasn’t about to make a move, he grabbed my hand and dragged me forward. I locked my knees, but the marble floor didn’t provide enough traction to stop our momentum. Why did I keep forgetting his strength?

  “Troy—I’m—will you wait a sec!”

  He stopped in a dim partition between two sets of velvet curtains. “Now, before we see him, I want to warn you about something.”

  The gravity of his tone changed my stomach into tumbleweed—prickly and upending on every bounce. I made a mental note not to disobey, even if my natural instincts said to rebel. I didn’t need the Excelsior’s ire added to my lengthening list of misdeeds.

  “Spit it out,” I said.

  “Do not stare.”

  Was he joking?

  Troyan tugged me through the curtains, and I gaped. The word “huge” seemed too small. Running out of adjectives, I settled for cavernous. The room resembled a marble cave. I tried to wrap my mind around what stretched out before me.

  The builders had kept the walls and high ceiling rough while smoothing out the floor and throne. Blue velvet curtains hung on the far wall opposite where Troyan and I had come in and on both sides of the throne, lending warmth to a pretty much barren room. My arm hairs stood on end. The faux bravado I always walked around with vanished, almost as if I had become an insecure little boy who wanted his mommy.

  Above the throne hung a massive shield taller than Troyan and three times as wide. Painted on its surface was a unicorn on its hind legs, standing on a bed of roses with large thorns. The animal’s horn pierced through a crown. The words Scientia est lux lucis carved in curly script hovered above the image. Knowledge is enlightenment. Why would the Braylin Academy motto and symbol be on a shield in an Inshari throne room?

  On the smooth stone sat the Excelsior in rich cobalt robes with gold trim, over a dark suit. His blue-black hair, much like his son’s, swept off his brow and fell over his shoulders. He wore no crown. He didn’t need one. The regal air in the way he placed his hands on the armrests combined with his straight shoulders and stiff posture more than made up for the lack of royal ornamentation.

  He exuded power, even if his expression was compassionate. His eyes, black as the darkest night, watched me, irises reflecting my wonder. He had the same striking features as his son. His only flaw—if it could be considered that—were silver crescent scars that formed intricate lacelike patterns over every exposed surface of his pale skin.

  I forced myself not to stare when I bowed.

  The smoothest honeyed voice with the hint of grandfatherly sternness filled the room. “Did my son tease you and tell you not to look at me?”

  I peeked. My heart sputtered.

  “Father,” Troyan said, “may I present Camron Masters, a student of Braylin Academy.”

  “Welcome to the Braylin court.” Troyan’s father raised his hands in greeting.

  “Camron,” Troyan said, ignoring my glare at having been tricked, “I present my father, His Excellency, Excelsior Darius Alphamire Braylin of the Braylin Dynasty.”

  “Braylin?”

  “Yes.” Excelsior Braylin—Darius?—smiled graciously. “I founded the academy.”

  “You own the school?” I pointed at Troyan since it felt too rude to point at the Excelsior.

  His father hooted and slapped the armrest over and over in a rapid drumbeat. Definitely just Darius. I couldn’t imagine calling someone a king when they were laughing like a baboon.

  Troyan remained impassive.

  “Don’t think this is over, Troyan.” I squinted at him. “I’ll get you for almost giving me a heart attack.”

  “My son has kept things from you.” Darius swiped at a stray tear that fell from the corner of his left eye. “Forgive him. He’s modest, if not secretive.”

  “Father!” Troyan’s careful composure splintered.

  Darius waved dismissively at his son. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

  Only when Troyan switched from embarrassed to pissed did I get that Darius meant me.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “At least, I think I am, considering Gaige’s experiment.”

  “Hide nothing from my father, Camron,” Troyan urged. “Be completely honest with him. He needs to know everything.”

  “Sir?” I looked back up at the throne.

  He raised a hand. “In private you may address me as Darius,” he said. “Despite your current state, you are still fundamentally human, thus unbound by the customs of our people. In public, ‘Your Excellency’ is usually appropriate.”

  “Darius,” I said without hesitating, and he dipped his chin once in acknowledgment. “I don’t understand what Gaige did—”

  “Yes, he should have given you a choice.”

  “I don’t see it that way.” I shook my head. “Not anymore, at least. I’m pissed, don’t ge
t me wrong, but being able to walk among you is fascinating. It’s not every day you get to discover a supersecret vampire colony.”

  “Camron,” Troyan chided, staring at me.

  “Right.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What I’m trying to say is…. Gaige believes my transformation would be helpful.”

  “My youngest son can be impulsive when it comes to his work.” Darius rested his cheek on the palm of his hand.

  “He was wrong to drag Camron into this,” Troyan said.

  “I understand your concern.” Darius’s gaze brimmed with empathy. “Believe me, I do. Especially given these uncertain times, but we cannot undo what has already been done. I must beg for your forgiveness, Camron.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive.” I fidgeted. “Who wouldn’t want super strength and perfect eyesight?”

  “But the hunger and the urges must be difficult for you.”

  The moment Darius said “urges,” Troyan stiffened.

  “It’s a challenge, but I’m trying my best to control them.” I touched Troyan’s arm. I wanted to let him know I was all right. I hoped he got the message.

  “Are you sure you’re aware of what you’re saying?” Darius raised his eyebrows.

  “I don’t really know what I’ve gotten myself into.” Doubt flooded me. “But I’m willing to ride it out until the formula wears off.”

  I lied, for sure, but it was my best option. Freaking out was a complete waste of time. The way I saw it, why not enjoy my stint as an Inshari? Not everyone could admit to having that experience.

  My words brought on a cordial smile from Darius.

  “I like him,” he said, wagging a finger at me. “You’re welcome in our colony, but for your safety, we’ll continue the ruse my son started.”

  “With your hair and eye color, we cannot pass you off as Regalia,” Troyan said.

  “Royalty,” Darius clarified.

  With a nod, Troyan continued. “If anyone asks, you are a merchant’s son from the northern clans.”

  My doubts fled. Enthusiasm flushed my skin. I’d never had to hide my identity before. I’d always been Camron Masters, son of a pharmaceuticals magnate. But in this colony, I’d be someone else.