But maybe it wasn’t that. Maybe I really just didn’t want to help him anymore. If I wasn’t already sitting, that thought would bring me to my knees, but I can’t dismiss it just because it hurts. Helping him hurt too. But I should have taken that pain. I should have trusted in my own strength instead of betting the house on Nathan’s ability to see the light from rock bottom.
I was wrong. I know that now, and dammit, if I could go back in time and do things differently, I would.
I would’ve made him move in with me. I would have worked harder, earned more, and moved us both out of this shithole of a city. Somewhere nice. Quiet. Someplace where he wouldn’t have the chance to get into any of this shit.
That’s what I should have done, and I swear if we ever get out of here, that’s what I’m going to do.
I tear my gaze away from him and burn off the encroaching tears with sheer willpower. Nobody saw them, I don’t think, and I can’t afford to have an emotional reaction like that again. I can’t let anybody know that I know him, or the vampires will get suspicious.
A sudden thought strikes me, sending chills through my heart.
Has anyone ever tried this before? Gone into the nest after one of their own? Are the vamps expecting me to do this? Do they know that their new male tribute is related to the one who keeps hunting them down?
No. Not possible. If they knew that, they’d know who I am, and they never would’ve let me inside these walls.
I slow my breathing, and once I’m sure I’ve got myself under control, I risk another glance at the male tributes. I was wrong before. They’re not heading toward the empty tables that I assume are for them. Instead, they’re being led toward the high table.
“Oh, wow. They’re hot,” Chelsea breathes.
Winona glances at her with something between disgust and disappointment. “Don’t make eyes at the help, you idiot. They are nothing to you, you get me? You’re after a vampire. With your”—she waves her fingers in a figure eight through the air—“physique, you might shoot for the lower end of the spectrum. Maybe a guard or the auctioneer. But never go after the male tributes. They’re human. They aren’t why you’re here.”
“Why do you care what she does?” Jessica asks with a frown. “Isn’t it just less competition for you?”
Winona sniffs. “Slumming like that brings down everybody’s market value, sweetheart. I refuse to have my reputation tarnished by association.”
Chelsea blushes a bright, unhealthy red and looks down, muttering under her breath. I watch the tributes subtly, trying to keep my face half-hidden behind Jessica’s head. I need to get a sense of how Nathan is doing, but I don’t want him to see me yet.
Of course, as soon as I have that thought, I fucking jinx myself. Nathan’s halfway up the platform steps when he glances around the room, and I can tell the exact moment when he spots me. His eyes go wide, and for a second, he looks like he’s going to step out of line and run across the room toward me.
No. Don’t move, I pray silently, my stomach knotting itself so tightly I’m sure I’ll never be able to get food inside it again. Stay. Shut up. Don’t say a goddamn word, Nathan. If you value your life or mine, you’ll keep your mouth shut.
I turn away from him and giggle in Chelsea’s direction, loud enough to carry but not so loud as to be unnatural. I don’t know what the fuck she just said or if it was even remotely funny, but I don’t care.
Read the signs, Nathan. For God’s sake, play it cool.
“Nothing wrong with looking,” I tell the still-blushing Chelsea. “Some of them are really cute.”
My heart is thudding a million beats a minute as Anastasyia moves toward us, waving us out of our seats.
“Come, come,” she says. “Smooth procession, come now. I thought Arthur would communicate beforehand to make this a nice coordinated effort, but I guess he’s still upset that more female tributes were chosen in this round than male ones. I always tell him it’s not up to me, so it’s really not my fault, but he just will not let it go. Come on, shortest to tallest. We’re behind, but don’t look hurried. Decorum, decorum, smile girls!”
We all stand, and I get shuffled around, passed backward as the shorter girls jockey for position. Only Winona and the returning victim are behind me. We’re led to the opposite end of the high table from the men, and the matron starts up the stairs just as the male tributes are settling into position before the prince.
Every one of the men is looking at the vampire court seated behind the table—every one except Nathan. He’s looking right at me. I can feel his gaze burning into my face and I’m trying very, very hard not to look back at him.
We’re lined up in front of the high table before I’m done wrestling myself under control. My heart is flip-flopping like a fish on the bottom of a boat as the shortest male and shortest female tributes stand next to each other, creating a clear view between Nathan and me. Anastasyia and the male tribute’s—patron, I guess?—step forward as one.
“The new tributes, your highness,” Anastasyia says, sinking into a deep curtsy. “And a wonderful batch they are too.”
“Not nearly as wonderful as these new tributes.” The man who I assume must be Arthur gestures to the men, bowing even more deeply. “Young and strong and impulsive, all of them.”
Dammit,
