Sleeping Beauty (11 page)

Lucette watched with wonder as the fairy queen flew across the room and hovered in front of them. The fairy, with her translucent wings and sparkling pastel dress, embraced Lucette's mother.

“Welcome,” her mother said. “Thank you for coming so quickly. This is my daughter, Lucette.”

Lucette tried to hide her awe as the fairy queen turned toward her and offered her delicate, long-fingered hand.

“Ah, Lucette,” said the fairy queen. “I see my visions were right. You are turning into a great beauty.”

Lucette dropped her head in embarrassment. Why did all these grown-ups keep calling her beautiful when she so clearly wasn't? Especially now that her hair was so short. To keep it even, the royal barber had to cut it all very close to her scalp.

“What can I do for you?” the fairy queen asked as she settled back down to the floor.

Lucette's mother cleared her throat and leaned forward. “It's about the curse.”

The fairy queen flew back several feet, then drifted forward again, slowly. “I already told Stefan, I cannot interfere any further.”

“You spoke to my husband?”

“Not since I enchanted those sheets of glass,” the fairy queen replied.

“Oh yes, of course,” her mother said, but it was clear to Lucette that her mother didn't know about any enchanted glass. “But we don't need anything from you. My daughter merely has a question.”

The fairy queen crossed her slender arms over her chest. “When Queen Natasha found out I'd altered the curse, she tortured my attendants as punishment. My people paid a high price to allow your daughter to remain protected until sixteen.”

“We appreciate it deeply,” Queen Catia replied, bowing toward the fairy queen. “But our question relates to the other modification you made, the part about true love.”

Looking somewhat relieved, the fairy queen nodded. “Go on.”

Lucette's breaths quickened and her throat pinched at the thought that fairies had been tortured because of her. She'd thought the worst side effect of her cursed life was its impact on her parents' marriage, but knowing others had been physically hurt in order to help her was devastating. She tried to speak, but nothing came out.

“My dear”—the fairy queen ran her soft hand down Lucette's arm, making it tingle and tickle—“don't fret so. Everything done in the past was done with free will. There is no reason for you to feel guilt.”

Lucette gasped. “Can you read my mind?”

She shook her head. “No, your expression spoke for you.”

“Oh.” Shocked that she'd revealed so much, Lucette tried to keep her face more neutral.

“What is your question?”

“True love. Um . . . how do I prove I've found it?” She shifted her weight onto her other leg. “I mean, I don't even have any idea how to find it, or if I ever will. But let's say I do find it someday when I'm older. How do I prove it?”

The fairy queen reached up and traced her fingers across Lucette's forehead, leaving a trail of tingling coolness behind. “So many worries for such a young girl.” She shook her head. “Such a shame.”

Lucette dug her teeth into her lip. If she was worried, it wasn't without reason. Realizing she was impatiently tapping her foot, she stilled it.

“My sweet girl,” the fairy queen said, “finding or proving true love isn't a lesson one can teach. Keep your heart open and you'll find it. Then, if your love is pure, the proof will be natural and honest and instinctual. Don't worry one more minute about how to prove it. When the opportunity comes, you'll know what to do.”

“I'll know what to do?” That was it?
That
was the fairy queen's advice? “How can you be so sure?”

The fairy queen cupped Lucette's face in her hands. “Have faith, Lucette. When the time comes, you'll know.”

Standing alone in the dark, cold gymnasium of the Slayer Academy, where her mother had left her and told her to wait, Lucette could barely contain her excitement. She looked around the mysterious room, but it was too dark to make out more than shapes. After the disappointing meeting with the fairy queen, she and her mother had finally agreed: going behind her father's back was the only way she was going to learn how to defend herself against vampires. Putting all of her faith in finding true love was too risky, as was preventing a finger prick.

Yet her father remained adamant the curse would never fall, and that he could stop it. He believed that there was no need for her to learn to slay, since no daughter of his would ever put herself in such danger. Her father was in denial, unable to face up to what might happen, unable to even think of a world where his daughter had to face vampires alone.

So, her mother had secretly hired a Slayer Academy student—a boy from outside the kingdom who didn't know of the curse—as Lucette's private tutor. The plan was to train late at night, when her father was in bed, and at other times if they got the chance. To smuggle her out of the palace this evening, Lucette's mother had relied on a group of servants and guards she'd brought to the palace from her own father's country estate when she'd married. One of those servants was now waiting outside the gymnasium in a carriage to take Lucette home once she'd finished her training. But standing here alone in the dark, she wondered if she'd ever actually get any training. Had her mother's servants made a mistake with the arrangements?

Just then, the gas lights around the gymnasium flickered and brightened, and a blond boy strode into the room. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and muscular. When he passed under one of the lamps, it lit his short-cropped hair like gold.

Lucette's insides flipped. The only male she'd ever seen who combined power and good looks in such a decidedly masculine way was her father, but this was different. When she looked at her father, she felt protected and loved, but when she looked at this boy, her stomach twisted and her skin felt as if it had been set on fire.

“Hi,” he said when he got closer.“I'm Tristan. You must be Lucy.” She nodded, her mouth suddenly too dry to form words. Instead, she tugged on the wrists of her gloves to make sure they were on securely.

“I hear you want to learn how to defend yourself against vampires.” He crossed his arms and studied her.

She nodded again, feeling awkward under his scrutiny.

“You're kind of quiet, aren't you?” His voice was deep and strong, even with the mocking tone of that last line.

She shrugged. She didn't normally consider herself quiet, but she felt sure if she opened her mouth right now, all that would come out would be a croak.

“That's okay. Words won't protect you against a vampire, anyway. You'll need cunning, quick reflexes, and courage. You'll never beat a vampire's strength or speed, so it's essential that you outthink it, outmaneuver it, and attack first before it can attack you.”

She nodded.

“You don't look strong enough for combat training.” He headed over to a bar suspended between two tall poles, then jumped up to grab it and pulled his body up until his chin was raised above the bar.
He repeated this more than a dozen times, and her breath caught in her chest as she watched his bulging arm muscles flex and stretch. The speed at which he pulled himself up was impressive.

He let go and landed softly back on the polished gymnasium floor. “Think you can do that?”

“I can try.”

“She speaks!” He grinned, and the warmth of his expression shot straight into her heart.

Suddenly, she realized her mother had been right. Her father, too. At long last, she'd noticed a boy, and—wow, what a feeling. It made her nervous and excited and shy, yet bold all at once. She wanted to know him, and wanted to make him like her. If her father introduced her to this boy, she wouldn't hate those receptions so much.

“Well?” He shook his head, an amused look on his handsome face.

“Excuse me?” Had she missed a question? Lost in these unanticipated and perplexing thoughts, she couldn't be sure.

“Chin-ups,” he said.“Ready to try?”

She looked up to the bar. It had to be nearly twelve feet off the ground. She was tall, but not that tall. “How do I get up there?”

“Jump.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Unless you don't think you can do it . . . I mean, I heard you wanted to learn how to fight like a slayer, but if you don't think you can cut it—”

She interrupted. “I can do it.” She moved under the bar, bent her legs, and jumped with all her might. Her fingers grazed the bar, but she couldn't grab it.

“First of all,” he said, pointing to her hands, “those have got to go. You can't grip the bar with gloves on, and you certainly can't grip a stake. Why are you wearing them, anyway?”

Feeling silly for leaving them on, Lucette's cheeks flushed. She ripped them off, flung them aside, and wiped her sweaty hands on her pants.

“Try again,” Tristan said, and she moved back under the bar. From the ground it looked impossibly high. “Use your whole body,” he added. “Use the force of your arms and legs together. Push through your ankles, your toes. Most importantly, believe you can do it.”

“It's so high!”

He shrugged and grinned. “Try.”

She crouched under the bar, took a deep breath, and jumped, keeping her eyes on the bar. Her hands wrapped around it and a smile spread on her face.

“Now pull up,” he said.

He'd made it look easy, and Lucette figured that chin-ups should be even easier for her, since she was lighter. She flexed her arms and pulled up until her chin passed the bar.

“Good,” Tristan said from below her. “Now again.”

She straightened her arms to drop down and one hand slipped off the bar. Swinging back, she reached up and grasped the bar again.

“Next time, let yourself down more slowly,” he said. “Now pull up again.”

She tried, but this time her arms shook and burned from the effort, and her chin barely crossed the top of the bar. She lowered herself slowly.

“Again,” he said. “I want to see you do at least ten.”

“Ten?” He had to be kidding.

“Do you want this or not? Put some back into it. And use your shoulders and chest, not just your arms.”

She narrowed her eyes and flexed her back as she bent her arms to pull herself up. Struggling near the top, she felt his hands on her hips, helping her through the final inch.

“Good,” he said, his voice encouraging. “Seven more. You can do it.”

She couldn't dwell on the thrill of his touch, as she needed every ounce of mental and physical energy to finish the chin-ups. When she was done, all she felt was a mix of elation and exhaustion.

This slayer training was going to be harder than she thought, but she'd be glad to suffer through it with Tristan as her teacher.

Natasha, queen of the vampires, studied her son with a critical eye. Even though the boy didn't remember meeting his father—she'd killed the king just weeks after the boy's birth nearly fourteen years earlier—he held so many of the closed-minded and now-dead king's views. But where the boy might take after his father in disposition, he took after her in appearance. He was growing into a handsome young man, indeed.

She smiled. Attitude and disposition could be molded, but looks were inborn and everlasting. Especially for vampires who stopped showing outward signs of aging in their twenties, thus fueling the false rumors of their immortality. The boy might be misguided, but he was still young. There was time yet to sway his opinions before he became a full-grown vampire.

“Don't be such a picky eater,” she said, pushing the carafe of human blood toward him. “Try it. You might like it. Blood never tastes as good from a jar as it does fresh from the vein, but even consumed this
way, human blood is delicious and energizing. One sip and you'll see what I mean.”