Blood Crown (37 page)

Still, I stare at her reflection in the mirror, waiting for the moment she will look up. When she does, I smile. “I’m glad you’re here with me. I’m grateful for you.”

She blushes and glances away. The way she swallows hard tells me she can’t find the right words with which to respond. Suddenly, I need to know, and I whirl around on the bench and scoot over, patting the cushioned seat in invitation.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” She sits slowly, as if unsure if it is really okay for her to sit next to me. I wish I could remind her that she has stood by my side my whole life. That she has seen me naked, seen me wounded, seen me dirtier than the floors of the kitchen, seen me mauled by guard after guard. She has seen me rebuked for my differences, when now I am embraced because of them.

But I don’t say any of those things. Instead I wish I could read Minn’s mind and debate what I should say.

Finally, I just speak.

“Nic and I have created an Infusion—a bit of our mingled blood. We’re going to offer it to the people.” I hold my breath, waiting to see how Minn will respond.

At first she stares at me—I can practically see the neurons firing in her brain, trying to process my news. Finally she sighs. “What does that mean?”

“It means that not only our children will be evolved, but yours can be too. If you want it. If you take the Infusion.”

“My children could be like you?”

For a terrifying moment I worry that ‘like me’ is the last thing Minn would wish on any human being, but stars shine in her eyes, and a smile overtakes her face. “It would be an honor, and such a gift.” She closes her eyes and says, almost to herself, “What a beautiful gift.”

“So, you would take it?” I press.

Minn drops the brush into her lap and clasps both my hands in hers. “Will it hurt?”

I smile, laughter making a brief appearance. I shake my head. “No, it won’t hurt at all. It’s just a shot, a needle in the arm—a quick pinch and then it’s over. It might be strange at first, because all your senses will suddenly be heightened, but once you’ve adjusted to that, you’ll feel normal—you’ll feel better than normal.

As I watch, the joy on Minn’s face fades away. “But surely it will only be for the ruling class. It shouldn’t be for someone like me.”

I reach out and place a finger under her chin, applying pressure until she looks up. “I can think of no better person to receive such a gift. If you’re willing, I’d like you to be the first. You and Dillon, if that’s desirable.”

Minn’s smile lights up her face and she leans into me, wrapping her arms around me. I am getting better at these, at these hugs, but they still surprise me. Now I don’t hesitate at all before I wrap my arms around her and hug her tight.

“Thank you, Minn,” I whisper into her hair. “Thank you for standing by me. For helping me, giving me strength, for believing in me.”

When Minn finally lets go and rises to her feet, she has to wipe a couple tears from her cheeks. Then she smiles into the mirror and brandishes her brush. “We’ve a wedding to prepare for—best get to work!”

Forty-five minutes later I follow Minn out of the dressing room and stop short at the sight of Nic. He had been sitting in the chair at the small writing table, but pops to his feet when Minn and I appear. Now no one stands between us and it seems as if Minn and Dillon have faded into the walls because I only have eyes for Nic.

His unruly black hair has been slicked back, but is already beginning to fall forward. I smile at the sight of it and fight a sudden urge to brush his hair from his face. I love that it always falls forward—it makes him look boyish and gives me an excuse to touch him.

He wears a slim white suit with gold adornments that shine in the soft light of our suite. The jacket follows his trim physique and makes him look tall and proud and handsome—all the things he is.

I run my finger over the red trim at his collar, then trail it up, behind his ear, applying enough pressure for him to tip his head forehead until it rests on mine.

His hands curl around my waist, and then he gently pushes me back. “I need a better look at you.”

“You’ve already seen me.” I resist his pressure and lean against him instead.

“I was too nervous to really look. Come on. Let me see what everyone else will see when we walk into that room.”

“They’ll be looking at both of us.”

He leans back, a shocked look on his face. “Oh no they won’t, my love. I assure you—they will only have eyes for you—their Queen.”

I know I blush, and it’s not like Nic hasn’t seen me a thousand times before, but even I know he has never seen me like this. Not even when the Mind dressed me up for their death party.

Nic pushes me away again and this time I sigh and dutifully step back. I try to stand tall and queenly but I feel so embarrassed to have him scrutinize me that I can’t help but smile, and then laugh, all the while trying and failing to remain regal.

He starts at my hair, which Minn has left down with tiny silver stars woven through it. Nic touches it almost reverently. That’s when the next wave of laughter starts.

My gown matches his in its trim design, hugging the curve of my body until just below my spine where it flares out behind me—giving me the look of a sleek, narrow skirt in the front, but all the length and grandeur of a long train in the back with more stars sprinkled through the fabric.

Red ribbon has been worked in a filigree design at my wrists and along the plunging neckline, a detail Nic naturally takes time to appreciate. Like I did with him, he traces the design, then lets his finger slip onto my skin, following my neckline upward where he slips his hand beneath my hair and draws me to him.

“I have dreamed about you my entire life. I have dreamed about being your protector, your partner. But even in the best dreams, I have never seen you this beautiful, and I have never wanted to be your Bonded more than I do at this moment.”

He leans his forehead against mine and I feel his Crown manifest. I let mine join his.

“I accept you, Nicolai.”

He lifts his head from mine and gazes into my eyes. “We will become one with our people—and you will never be alone again.” He caresses my cheek with his thumb and I lean against his warm palm. “I accept you, as my queen, and my Bonded, Serantha. I am forever yours.”

The Desolation Series

Young Adult Paranormal Romance

Become

Desolate

Destined

The Desolation Diaries

Young Adult Paranormal Romance

Personal Demons

The Seer

Tattered Dreams

If it weren’t for RaShelle Workman (
Blood & Snow, Immortal Essence
, et al),
Blood Crown
might not be here, in your hands.

We shared a booth at the 2013 Salt Lake City ComicCon and we had a lot of time to kill. RaShelle has been super successful in her publishing—she publishes a LOT and OFTEN, while I felt stuck. I had all these partially-written books but I was conflicted on which project to finish first.

I don’t think RaShelle thought much about her answer, because she quickly replied—but her words were magic.

Words that put everything into perspective for me. Words that made sense.

As soon as the Con was over, I went right to work, following RaShelle’s advice.

She’ll probably be shocked to see what I’ve written here, but she really needs to know how grateful I am. Thank you RaShelle!

I’d also like to thank my best friend and daily writing partner, encourager, supporter, and butt-kicker, Christine Bryant (
The Crystor Series
). She helped me get my butt into the chair every day. She cheered me on when the writing was fast and smooth, and encouraged and loved me over the hard parts.

Thank you to my critique partners—Elana Johnson (
The Possession Series
), Sara V. Olds (
My Life as a Lumberjack
), and Stacy Henrie (
Hope at Dawn
). They always help to reign me in so I’m not writing like a total spaz. I am better—in more ways than just my writing—because of them.

Thank you to my fans who drive me to
never give up and never surrender
. I hope they will do the same!

Thank you to my family who suffer through endless tales of my adventures in writing (which inevitably is never as exciting to them as it is to me!) and always, always, my deepest gratitude to my Heavenly Father. Ultimately it is Him who makes all good things possible.

Ali Cross is the sensei of Novel Ninjutsu where she holds a black belt in awesome. She lives in Utah with her kickin' husband, two sparring sons, one ninja cat, one sumo dog and four zen turtles.

Ali is the award-winning author of young and new adult fiction and moonlights as Alex Banks when she can write wild middle grade adventures set in the faraway places of her imagination.