The Vampire King's Feeder

Opal Is Awful

Emory

“Miss Emory is not your food, Opal.” He takes a drink from his goblet of blood and somehow manages to do so without a trace of the substance adhering to his lips or teeth. “Miss Emory is off limits to everyone in the castle. Didn’t you receive my decree?”

She pulls her eyes off of me to look at him; I feel the shift in the weight on the side of my face as I am having a hard time looking away from him myself. The king is looking at his fiancée, though, and when she says, “Yes, yes. I heard something about it, though I didn’t pay it much mind. The three of us were out in the garden still, looking at where to place the blood bar for the reception.”

“I suggest that whenever I make a decree, you do pay attention.” His tone is direct but not otherwise harsh, and when Opal shifts the topic of discussion from me to her wedding plans, I feel inclined to begin my meal.

I’m not hungry. As much as my body is longing to replace the calories I burned beating the hell out of those guards, I can’t seem to make room in my stomach for much of anything. The knot there is so intense, and the thoughts that plague me about all that’s happened throughout the day restrict my ability to get more than a few bites down.

It’s just as well. As soon as Opal is done explaining how the ice sculptures will be mechanized so that they will display the king and herself turning toward one another and kissing over and over again, her brother has a question for me, “So, you’re the daughter of Bernard Moonraker? Is that right? Sworn enemy of Crimson Peak clan?”

I am taking a sip of water when the question is asked, so I have to swallow before I can say, “Yes, Prince Jacob. That is correct.” Although, at the moment, I’m not sure I want to claim Bernard as my father.

“And how, exactly, did you come to be here?” he continues. “Not at the dining table. I know that King Kane is far too generous to let someone of your status end up in the dungeon for what her father has done to his people, but are you here to help facilitate peace?”

I stare at him for a long moment, confused as to why he’s asking the question. I think everyone here knows why I am at the castle, including him. It’s like he just wants to hear me say it.

His blue eyes are locked on my face, unblinking, as I choose my words.

But there’s simply no reason to be anything other than honest. “No,” I say. “My father offered me in exchange for his debt. To become a feeder for the king.”

Jacob has a satisfied look on his face, as if he’d been hoping that is exactly what I would say, but Opal begins to laugh loudly. “How awful!” she blurts. “To have your own father do something so… harsh. You must feel awful.”

“Opal,” King Kane say, looking at her sharply. “Be polite.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sometimes I forget that wolves have feelings.” She clears her throat. “But seriously, that is too bad.”

“She’s not telling you everything,” Rainer says beside me. It’s the first time he’s addressed them when they’ve spoken against me, and by the way his words leave his mouth, I can tell he’s been holding back, though I’m not sure why. “Her father wasn’t trying to trade her. He was trying to trade another family member, and she stepped in on the other girl’s behalf.”

I can’t look at anyone now. My eyes drop to my lap, and I take a few deep breaths so as not to remember what has transpired. I feel Rainer’s hand on my leg, a squeeze, and a release. He hasn’t meant to upset me, I know that. He’s trying to get them to leave me alone, for them to see that I’ve been through more than they realize, and to understand that I am brave or something.

It doesn’t work.

“Unbelievable,” Opal says. “Your father is a bigger asshole than I even imagined.”

“Opal—” the king says, but she doesn’t deter.

“Well, he is your enemy, isn’t he?” she asks King Kane. He says nothing, and I’m not about to raise my head to see his reaction. I have managed to blink back my tears, though, so when Opal continues, I am looking at her. “I’ve always thought that werewolves cared very little about anyone other than themselves. I suppose this just confirms it.”

“The fact that Emory stepped in to spare her younger sister confirms that for you?” It’s the king himself who is questioning her logic now. I feel my chest both tighten in sadness as I think about Lola and swell with pride that he is standing up for me and my people, something he shouldn’t feel compelled to do. We are his enemies, it’s true, and we have been at fault this entire time, it seems.

“Oh, my,” Opal says, and I can tell she truly is shocked this time. “I certainly hope someone is there to protect the girl. Otherwise, I can’t imagine what your father might do in his rage.”

Her words are meant to get a reaction out of me, and they do. I feel hot tears springing to my eyes as I contemplate the same thing. I want to get up from the table and run away, to hide, to cry in my despair, but I can’t move.

I no longer have the freedom to do any of that without permission, and when I turn to the king to see if I should ask for his consent to leave, I see that he is seething.