is quite lovely. Is it aquamarine?” he asked, changing the subject entirely.
“No, actually, it’s turquoise. My father gave it to me on my thirteenth birthday,” Juliet said, sighing.
There was only one topic she was interested in hearing the man talk about, and he was obviously refusing to share his views with her. Did that mean he was uncertain of his abilities as a diplomat? Considering everything that was at stake for her family, Juliet was understandably curious.
“Well, you are worth spoiling,” the count added as he kissed both her hands.
“What about the prince? Does he think Vladimir spoiled the Capulets? It will come as no surprise that my family is afraid of losing all of their wealth and power over the region.”
Count Paris led her into another promenade. “I do not wish to talk about politics with you, Juliet.”
“Why not? Because I’m a woman?”
“Just barely,” the count sniggered. “But that is not the reason.”
“What is it, then?” Juliet said, anchoring her feet to the ground and not budging another step.
The count cast his iridescent red eyes upon her and smirked. “Because you truly aren’t one of us … yet.”
“Ah, I see. I won’t be worth listening to until I can suck all the lifeblood out of some poor, unsuspecting person,” Juliet said sharply.
The tone of her voice would have made most men flinch, but this vampire was still grinning from ear to ear. “That is not what I meant.”
“Yes, it is,” she huffed.
“Please, Juliet, I’d much rather talk about more pleasurable things,” Count Paris said, pulling her in so close that their lips almost touched. “Like what you think about me.”
Juliet wrestled away from his embrace, but the count held her by the elbows and stroked a small patch of her bare skin with his thumb.
“I’m afraid that I have no thoughts to share,” she said plainly. “I know virtually nothing about you.”
Thankfully, the flautist ended his song with a long, whistling note. Count Paris let go of her arms so he could join in the applause. Juliet sighed in sweet relief and hoped that she could make her exit soon.
“Well then, I suppose I must better acquaint you,” Count Paris said, once the crowd began to bustle again. “Quite frankly, when it comes to me, there are only a few things that you need concern yourself with.”
Juliet peered over her shoulder to see if her mother was trying to eavesdrop on them, and was elated to see that she was nowhere to be found. “And what are those?”
A servant passed by with a tray stacked with blood-filled goblets and Juliet winced when he reached for one. The smell of pig entrails made her incredibly nauseous. Count Paris took a long swig from the cup and blotted a stream of blood from his mouth with a white handkerchief.
“I come from one of the finest families in Europe. We live in a castle, much grander than this one, and Prince Radu has asked me to be chancellor of Transylvania. I hope my elevated status pleases you.”
Juliet felt a knot forming in her stomach. The way the count had just listed his assets could only mean one thing. “I’m not sure why any of that should matter to me, sir.”
“Well, because in a few short days you will become my wife,” he said with a broad smile.
“Wife?!” Juliet felt a rapid fluttering sensation inside her chest. This was exactly what she had feared when she read his stupid letter.
“I have it all arranged with your mother and father. An alliance between our families will help improve your father’s relationship with the new prince, especially now, when so much is at stake. Once you complete your first kill and transition, I will take your hand in marriage. Then you and your family will have nothing more to worry about … ever.”
Count Paris raised his eyebrows at Juliet, who just stood there, completely aghast. “Would you care to make a celebratory toast? I can hail another servant and get you some wine. But I should warn you, madam—after you have your first taste of blood, there’s no going back.”
A blistering sting spread throughout Juliet’s entire body, one she’d never felt before. She wanted to get back at the count and her parents for using her as a bargaining chip in this twisted political game of theirs. Juliet imagined looking them all in their beady, red eyes and then spitting in their faces.
Fortunately, Juliet managed to squelch her rage somewhat and rebuked the count in a more appropriate way. She grabbed his goblet, held it up, and proclaimed, “To wedded bliss!” Then she quickly poured all the contents over Count Paris’s head, dousing him to the very last drop.
Her “fiancé” let out a startled yelp, alerting everyone around them to what had just happened. A group of socialites gasped at Juliet’s outrageous behaviour, while one of the dour-looking elder vampires shook his head and mumbled, “Lord Capulet will have her whipped when he sees this.”
But he will have to catch me first, Juliet thought, and she sprinted out of the Great Hall to a place where no one would find her.
Underneath the ground floor of the castle ran four long, dark tunnels. The servants used them in the morning to access other rooms in the building without disturbing the vampires as they slept in their chambers; at night, the servants used them to evade the guards and exit the castle for an unscheduled evening of leisure in town. Originally, the tunnels had been constructed so that if the castle ever came under attack by the Montagues, the Capulets could move throughout the interior without detection and ambush their enemy. Some of the tunnels led to prison cells, where torture devices, like thumbscrews and knee splitters, were stored.
At the end of the south tunnel, there was a room such as this. It was about the size of two wardrobes, and Juliet would take refuge there whenever she clashed with Lord and Lady Capulet. She was on her way there now, weaving and darting through the underground system as she’d done countless times before. Since she had the routes memorised, she could navigate them easily in the near pitch-blackness.
The echo of her heels clicking against the slippery stone masked distant whispers that were being carried in the thin air. One woman’s voice sounded familiar to her, but the others belonged to strangers. Juliet did not want to be caught in the bowels of the castle by the servants, so she picked up the pace, grabbing hold of the hem of her dress so it would not trip her up and swiftly ducking her head when she passed by places where the ceiling hung low.
After a good fifteen yards, she closed in on the secret room. Juliet opened the door and went inside. She reached into her shoe and pulled out a match, in hopes of lighting the oil lamp that she had brought down to the room a few days ago. She struck the match against the wall and it burst into a bright orange flame.
All of a sudden a terrified shriek rang out, startling Juliet so much that she toppled to the ground. A large black boot came out of the darkness, then a huge white hand with long, sharp fingernails. A set of wide red eyes became visible, along with a toothy grin that Juliet knew all too well.
“Tybalt? Is that you?” she whispered.
Juliet scrambled
