CHAPTER EIGHT

Polly strode quickly down the corridors of Versailles, heels echoing on the marble floor, rushing down an endless corridor with soaring ceilings, moldings, marble fireplaces, enormous mirrors, and chandeliers hanging low. Everything shone.

But she barely noticed it; it was second-nature to her. Living here for years, she could hardly imagine any other form of existence.

What she did notice, though—very much—was Sam. A visitor like him was not at all a part of daily life—and, in fact, was most unusual. They hardly ever had vampire visitors, especially from another time, and when they did, Aiden never seemed to care. Sam must be very important, she realized. He intrigued her. He seemed a bit young, and he seemed to be bumble around a bit.

But there was something about him, something she couldn’t quite place. She felt like, somehow, she had some connection to him, that she’d met him before, or that he was connected to someone who was important to her.

Which was so strange, because just the night before, she’d had the most vivid dream. About a vampire girl named Caitlin. She could see her face, her eyes, her hair, even now. In the dream, she was told that this girl had been her best friend for life, and throughout the dream, it seemed like they were friends forever. She woke up feeling it was so real, that it was more a meeting than a dream. She couldn’t understand it, but she woke up remembering everything about this girl, remembering all the times they’d spent together.

It didn’t make any sense, because Polly knew she’d never been to any of those places. She wondered if maybe, somehow, she had been looking into the future? She knew that vampires visited each other in dreams, and that they occasionally had the power to see into the future and the past. But these powers were also unpredictable. It could be a world of illusions. One never knew: was one seeing the future, seeing the past, and was one merely dreaming?

After the dream, Polly had awakened looking for Caitlin, as if she really knew her. She found herself missing her as she walked down the hall. It was crazy. Missing a girl she’d never even met.

And then this boy showed up, Sam. And for some crazy reason, Polly felt his energy to be connected to hers. How, she couldn’t possibly know. Was she just imagining that, too?

Aside from all of this, she found herself feeling something for Sam. She wouldn’t say that she was head over heels for him. But she was not unattracted to him either. There was something about him. It wasn’t the feeling of being in love. It was more a feeling of being…intrigued. Wanting to know more.

Which made her all the more agitated that Kendra had already laid her eyes upon him. Not necessarily that she wanted him for himself. It was way too early for her to know that. But more because he seemed so innocent, naïve, impressionable. And Kendra was a vulture. She was a member of the royal family, one who had never been told No in her life, and she had a magical way of getting whatever she wanted, from whomever she wanted.

Polly had always sensed that Kendra had some sort of sinister agenda. For years, she’d been trying to get every vampire in her coven to turn her. Of course, it was forbidden, and no one would oblige her. But now, she could tell, she’d set her sights on Sam. Fresh blood had arrived, and she was determined to try again. Polly shivered, not liking the idea of what could happen to Sam if Kendra was determined.

Yes, this was certainly an unusual day for her. Her mind swarmed with emotions as she marched down the hall, and she realized she was already late. The new singer everyone had been talking about was giving a private concert for Marie and her entourage. The singer had been here for weeks, and all the other girls were going on about not only his voice, but his looks. She was eager to get a glimpse of him for herself. Polly had been looking forward to this, and now she was doubly annoyed that she’d come in at the tail end of it.

That was the problem with this place, she thought, as she marched down yet another corridor. It was just too big. It was impossible to get anywhere on time.

Polly stepped up her pace, and finally reached the end of another corridor, and two guards opened the immense double doors for her. She walked right through, and as they closed behind her, she was immediately embarrassed.

The entire room turned and looked at her; as the singer continued his performance, she realized she’d interrupted the concert. Her face reddened, as she sank to the back of the room, taking a seat among her friends.

Everyone turned back slowly, and as they did, she settled in, and realized the concert was almost over.

She looked up, and watched, and as she caught the first glimpse of the singer’s face, she was shocked. He was even more gorgeous than everyone had said. He had dark features, with dark eyes and dark, wavy hair. His face was perfectly chiseled. He was so regally dressed, from head to toe, in a black velvet coat, with white stockings, and shiny black shoes. He stood in the center of the small stage, and looked so confident, so in control. He looked like he might be…Russian.

But even more than that: his voice was mesmerizing. As he sang, Polly was transfixed. She was completely riveted, helpless to do anything but listen, helpless to look anywhere else.

Polly was lost in a daze as the singing ended, still staring, still hearing his final notes, while everyone else got up, clapping, and approached him. The entire room crowded around him, and he stood there, smiling, basking in the attention.

Polly slowly made her way through the crowd. She could see the adoration of all the other girls, and she stepped up herself and took a look.

He turned and looked at her, fixing his eyes on her. He seemed to look at her with a bit of disdain, with a brazen, arrogant look, as if to say suggest that she should look up to him.

“I…enjoyed your concert,” Polly said, realizing she was nervous.

“Of course you did,” he said. “Why wouldn’t you?”

The other girls giggled, and Polly thought his comment was somewhat rude. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

“Well, if you’re just going to stare like that, you might as well tell me your name,” he said.

Polly stammered, caught off guard. No one had ever talked to her like that before. Part of her told her she should just walk away; but another part just couldn’t bring herself to.

“Polly,” she said breathlessly.

“Polly,” he mimicked back, with a giggle. “Like a bird.”

Polly reddened, as the other girls giggled. She did not know whether she was in love with this man, or hated him. How could he be so arrogant?

“Well, Polly,” he said, with a faint accent, “I’ll have you know my name.”

He slowly held out his hand, which was pale and soft, like a girl’s.

“Sergei,” he announced proudly, as if she should be thrilled to know it.

She took her hand in his, staring, unable to look away.

“Sergei,” she repeated, breathlessly.

And despite herself, despite the fact that he suddenly turned away and talked to the other girls, despite every red flag that screamed for her to walk away, she knew that she was already, hopelessly, in love.