Conversations around the room ceased abruptly with a unified gasp.
The portly woman snorted. “You can’t negotiate with him.”
“I disagree.”
“Of course you do,” a Lilithian added harshly. “You can’t possibly presume to know what is wise—you’re just a baby.”
“Here. Here,” an old man said, tapping his finger on the table. “You were not even born when Drake stormed this manor and killed our queen. You did not hear of the horror, or the deaths of so many Lilithians that day. You cannot make a ruling about this, Princess, because you know nothing of our past.”
“The past is inconsequential. I’m thinking about the future.”
“Future? Future!” One man, so enraged, leaped from his seat, slamming his hands on either side of his plate. “If you want any kind of future, you will send your knights forth at once to seek out and kill Drake.”
“I concur,” a man said.
“As do I.”
Several men from each side wrapped their knuckles on the tabletop, nodding, their mutters of agreement uniting them for the first time tonight.
“Yes, this is the wisest course of action. We should act immediately.” Moustache man, who I was starting to think might be a position of authority among the House, had the final word, all going silent after.
“The thing is,” I addressed the entire table, “I am your leader, and I have to decide which is the right course of action. I’m sorry, but it won’t necessarily always be the wise one.”
“Then you will lead us all to ruin,” the portly woman scolded.
“That’s enough!” Arthur glared at her. “Show some respect.”
“It’s all right, Arthur.” I held my hand up, then smiled at the woman, who bowed her head apologetically. “Look. I know you’re all afraid because I’m young. But I was born for this role, and I have a wise council to advise me. I won’t see the Lilithians fall back into Drake’s hands.” I touched my chest. “I honestly would die before I let that happen. But, I will lead us to the freedom we all desire, and I’ll take whichever path is likely to cause the least damage.”
“Least damage? What kind of a leader would be willing to sacrifice even one life for her naïve, altruistic outcome?”
“A good one,” I said. “Look, I am in a position of power. And in that—” I smiled at Arthur, “—it’s sometimes impossible to circumvent the unpleasant. But it is, however, my job to determine the lesser evil. I’m not a miracle worker or a god, I cannot do the impossible.”
“But, Your Majesty, Drake will not quit. He will not stop until you and every other of our kind is dead.”
“Yes, he must die,” Portly Woman said.
“It is not for you to decide whether Drake should live or die,” I said.
“Then who does?”
“No one. God, maybe. I don’t know. All I know is that opposing that which is considered bad by most does not make you good—only misinformed.”
“Considered bad? Drake is bad!”
I sipped my drink and took a breath, feeling more confident seeing Arthur’s reassuring smile. “When Drake took back the throne,” I started, “he made the decision that our kind was dispensable. How did that feel? Are we dispensable?” I looked directly into each eye. “There is good in everyone, and I believe we can negotiate with Drake. Enough blood has been shed. We must offer peace in order to restore it.”
Mike dropped his fork onto his plate and all heads turned as the clatter startled the stunned silence in the room. His mouth closed, the ball in his throat shifting.
“Well then—” Arthur stood and raised his glass. “A toast—to the princess and her insightful approach.”
“To the princess,” the table hummed.
With daylight gone, night darkened the stained-glass dome over my bed; what was blue or white glass in the sun became transparent, showing the stars beyond, hiding away up there in a world too high for me to ever reach. Those glistening entities made Lilith, her story, her life, seem like more of a mystery to me, but one that I, somehow, felt more connected to.
I’d been told of her beginning; how she was conceived of Vampirie and a human girl, and how she was loved by all who knew her. But even though I knew this, when I first laid eyes on the dome above my bed—depicting her beginning—I was surprised not to see a shapely woman reaching across a clouded sky to an infant. Cliché, I know, but that’s what I expected. Instead, my eyes feasted in the story-book scene of a little girl sitting in a garden full of roses, sharing tea with a man and two expressionless dolls. I wondered who this dark stranger was; his black hair and cloak seemed so out of place beside this girl in floral print, with a yellow ribbon in her hair. Perhaps he was Vampirie, or maybe even Lilith’s grandfather. I couldn’t see the image enough to make any real conclusions. My room was dark, lit only by the flickering glow of a gas lamp by my door, but even in such dim light, the man’s electric blue eyes shone out like beacons, radiating with love for this little girl. It made me think of my own daughter—the child of the prophecy—made me think about tea parties we might have in the garden and the dolls we would play with together. And when I brushed a strand of hair from my face, feeling the youth of my barely twenty-year-old skin, I cringed. Once upon a time, I had everything planned; I’d go to college, get married once I found a job as a teacher, then, when I was about twenty-eight, I’d have started planning a family. A little boy first, then maybe a girl.
I dropped my hand onto my belly and felt the smooth skin under my pyjama top. For all I knew, after what David and I did on the piano this morning, there could be life forming inside me right now. It felt, at the same time as magic, also really scary. I wanted to make it stop, to make it all go away. But also wanted to feel it inside me—feel the life growing, moving, becoming a possibility.
But my dad would be so disappointed—when we sent another letter, this time announcing I’d be a teen mother.
With a sigh, I rolled onto my belly and reached into my nightstand for a small rectangle envelope, then rolled onto my back again, running my fingers over the words Maple Terrace. I hadn’t had time to respond to any of dad’s letters in the last week, since David entered the world of the living again, and I knew Dad would be freaking out by now. So, I grabbed my phone, went into the email app and wrote Dear Dad and Vi….then backspaced a few times and wrote Mum. I told him all about Paris, all about the places David and I had been on our pretend honeymoon, using pictures from the Web to describe it, then told him how much I love him, and pressed send.