The Nightmare Queen (The Allora Chronicles #1)

1. Eveera

Eveera

Fourteen Years Earlier

Her blood was everywhere. My mouth, my sinuses, coated over my hands and hair.

I could hear screaming, but her mouth wasn’t moving.

Not anymore.

The voice however felt familiar…who is screaming? I think to myself.

My eyes flit around, surveying the destruction. Pooling around me, blood slowly turned from red to black.

I didn’t see them rushing in to help, only saw their bodies once they crumpled and clattered to the ground, the blood splattering as they did so.

Their faces blurred together as I moved my gaze upwards to stare into her dimmed eyes a final time. My attention snags on her wrist where a fresh brand has melted into her now lifeless flesh in a shape that looks a lot like the sun.

Nausea churns inside of my stomach. My fingers reaching out to touch her. She’s so cold, her hands used to radiate warmth, there is none of that left now. Monotonously I drag myself off the floor my face becoming level with the carnage they left behind. My feet back me up slowly careful not to trip over any of the other bodies. So many bodies.

The skin on my heels hit cool, dry, stone as black edges into my vision sweeping me into the darkness.

I can still hear the screaming. So much screaming…

Present Day

The memory startles me awake, my body bolting upright.

My hands feel around the comfortable, soft bedding. No blood. I think to myself. It takes a few seconds for my heart to stop racing, but once it’s stopped I drag myself out and into my bathroom. The reflection staring back at me is almost as startling as the dream. The circles underneath my eyes are so dark I look bruised, the muscles in my back twinging as I attempt to stretch out my arms. I tilt down my shoulder to look at the cause and find angry red scabbing welts are torn all across my shoulder blades. I’d forgotten those were there…

Tenderly I drop my arms down, leaving behind the miserable glass reflection to turn the shower on. I make sure it runs hot, replacing the pain with a different type of discomfort I hope numbs me. I step into the stream once I see steam rising off of the droplets, hissing as I do so.

The dreams have been more frequent lately, the Gods only know why, but it’s agitating.

It’s just a dream now. I remind myself. But it wasn’t once and that knowledge has haunted me ever since, always lingering in the back of my mind, waiting for its moment to resurface and torment me from within until I take extreme measures to forget. The evidence of those measures is plain on my back.

Carefully I wash the dried blood and the remnants of the previous day away, allowing the hot water to purify me. I replace the harsh memory with the endless list of things I avoided yesterday. The council has become more insistent as of late, with my queendom hitting double digits, impressing some bullshit that I need to have a “sense of urgency” when it comes to court matters. No more running around. If it were up to them my routine would be the same drab thing every day - but instead of dressing in my leathers and heading down to spar with my private guard. They’d have me in something more queenly and my hours filled with meetings. And while I don’t mind the dresses, meetings make me twitchy.

The water runs cold, pebbling my skin as a shiver takes over. The change in temperature is enough to convince me to step out and towel myself off. It doesn’t take me long to finish getting ready, attempting to rub healing salve on the welts is the last step in my routine before hopping into my leathers. I give myself a final once over before snatching my weapons off the nightstands and tearing into the passageways.

I know these tunnels well enough that the walk to our sparring room is quick. My men’s voices and the familiar noise of metal clanging against metal reaches my ears before they even come into view. I guess they didn’t feel like waiting for their queen, to start.

“Ah, the prodigal Queen returns.” Axel, my second appointed guard, greets me as I walk in and set my things down.

I scoff at his choice in words.

“Oh, shut up and set up.” His crooked grin breaks across his face as he saunters onto the mat and brings up his sword. I mirror his stance waiting for the signal my head of guard, Ezra, gives before lunging at Axel. He blocks my advance, sidestepping to circle around me. His sword swings out at my side forcing me to jump back and cut my sword down quickly to block his blow. CLANK! Our swords slam together sending the ring of metal reverberating off the walls .

He spins and in the brief moment he has his back to me, I take a cheap shot, sending the edge of my blade at the back of his knees. My weapon just barely tickles his pant legs as he finishes the turn and faces me.

“Oh, come on, Evie. You can do better than that.” He taunts. I duck as he swings his sword over my head. I Wield a small amount of magic at him, pulling him off his feet. His sword clatters loudly to the ground next to him. “HEY!” Axel shouts.

Ezra glares at me from where he stands. “Eveera, no magic during practice spars. Get off the mat.” I roll my eyes, my lip jutting out into a pout. Before rotating out off the mat I reach my hand down for Axel to grab. He does, but instead of standing, he pulls me to the ground on top of him. My body thudding into his skinny yet solid frame.

“Asshole.” I say at the same time he calls me a cheat. My hands move to his chest, pushing myself off of him, and this time I don’t offer my hand. We make our way back to our things against the wall as the remaining three of my men take the center of the mat. The brothers, Maxwell and Orem, against my oldest guard Armond. The brothers move gracefully in sync. They have to be when going against the barbarian that is their opponent.

The three of us not sparring relax against the stone wall, watching the match go down. Well - Axel and I relax, and Ezra…does whatever his equivalent to relaxing would be. Which in my opinion looks uncomfortable.

My men are panting, a flicker of electricity zaps down Max’s sword. “MAX! OFF THE MAT.” Ezra shouts in his direction. He groans in frustration as he abandons his brother, who now stands facing Armond alone. They're nearly the same height, their hair the same shade of red, if you didn’t know it you might mistake Orem for Armond’s younger brother not Maxwell’s based on solely appearances .

A shadow moves from the corner of my eye causing me to turn my head. Felix, the head of my council stands in the passageway, his finger crooking in my direction. The motion is a direct summons to follow him. Ezra is the only other person who notices Felix, his hand grazing my arm briefly and in an awkward way as I walk past him, leaving the men and my stuff behind.

“Felix.” I greet before passing him up. The halls are quiet this morning, spare a few staff members rustling about their early chores. Most of the families who live here haven’t woken yet, save for their spousal counterparts that play a part on my council. The doors to the council room come quickly into view where I find each member is already sitting in their usual place upon my entrance. Their faces bear small, polite smiles in my direction that I return in my usual fashion of flopping down into my chair and kicking my feet up. My intent reading loudly and clearly that I’m ready to get this over with before it even starts. Felix takes his place next to me, pulling a piece of parchment from inside his vest and setting it down on my legs.

I look down at it and then back up at him, his eyes are wide giving me an insistent look. “Ugh, you’re joking.” I mutter before picking up the paper and unfolding it. I glance back up at him from the corner of my eye to see if he's changed his mind and wants to read it for me instead, but his face remains unchanged. Clearing my throat loudly I begin reading the words scrawled in front of me:

“OFFICIAL REQUEST FOR PORTAL ENTRY:

PRINCE RORIN COLLIER OF THE KINGDOM OF VELLAR, HUMBLY REQUESTS ENTRY INTO THE KINGDOM OF OBSIDIAN FOR A ONE ON ONE MEETING WITH ITS QUEEN.”

A few gasps echo around me. Vellar . My stomach churns at the name of the kingdom nestled against my northern borders. “Felix… didn’t you say the gentleman getting cozy in our cells had a strange Wield?” He nods. My finger taps against my chin, scheme and plot brewing in my mind. “I think he and I need to have a little chat.” Some of the council members eyes find something suddenly very interesting on the ceiling as my Wield flares from my fingertips, black creeping up to my wrists. I slide my legs down, pushing up from my seat, the paper crinkling underneath my grip. “Am I supposed to do something with this?” I ask Felix.

But it’s Lord Frederic who answers, his eyes flicking back and forth nervously. “Well, it’s prudent that we, that we, that we…”

Bleeding gods . “Spit it out, Frederic.” His chin quivers and Felix finishes for him.

“Your highness, we don’t like to decide things for you…” I roll my eyes at that. Since when? I want to say, but he continues on. “It would be appropriate to send a response.”

I make a noncommittal noise and read over the paper a second time. Everyone’s eyes are on me, their stares heavy and their breaths held in anticipation of my reaction.

“Denied.” I say flatly. The chair scrapes against the floor behind me as I kick it out of my way the movement of my feet carrying me swiftly out towards the exit. Leaving the lot of them to bicker and argue over my decision.

The hallways of the castle are warmly lit, illuminating a orange glow against the black stone but as I grow closer to the cells even that small glow dissipates. The darkness for some is frightening, for me it’s a comfort. Unfortunately for the man cowering in the corner of the cell I now stand in front of, the dark is just the beginning of what I’ll subject him too.

Clink, clink, clink. My fingernail taps against the metal bars.

“Hello, dear. You have something I need.”

Screams ring out through the Room. My familiar, Vada, watches us closely from the mouth of her cave. “You’re salivating.” I note down our bond.

She gives me an agitated huff but I see right through it, she gets a high off this as much as I do. The screams, the blood, the occasional mutilation. Tonight however, isn’t about that, this is more of an extracurricular interrogation. It would have happened sooner or later, but with the missive today from his prince, I felt eager to get a head start.

CRACK!

“Again.” I command as I pick out the blood from beneath my finger nails.

CRACK!

“Again.” The man’s skin is peeled open as each of the tassels lacerate it. One of the tendrils of my Wield is wrapped lazily around his hand so that he doesn’t drop the whip. The main focus of my Wield is in his head, manipulating the commands of his brain, bending it to the will of the nightmare. “Again.”

CRACK!

“This can all stop if you just tell me why your king sent you and why your prince sent me a sweet little note asking to meet me.” His actions still as I temporarily stop the nightmare. I want his full attention for this interrogation.

“Tsk tsk tsk. Percy was it?” I jerk his chin towards me. His shoulders go slack. He’s lost a lot of blood but not enough to kill him. His blonde hair has turned pink at the ends from the blood staining it. He can’t be more than thirty, handsome enough, that’s too bad .

“Percy, Percy, Percy…” My hand lightly slaps either cheek, once for every time I said his name. “See it doesn’t add up. You have quite an impressive Wield, Illusionary . Poor Felix had no idea you’d followed him home from that big…what are they called?” He whimpers while eyeing the slithering ink on my arms and chest and then the dragon behind me.

“T-trade meetings.” Ah, yes. I don’t know why we go to those still .

I crouch down to where he is kneeling, my shoes sticky with his blood, “the way I see it is either, the prince is requesting to visit because they greatly miss a talent such as yours. Or your here on very specific orders not even the prince is aware of. And what a concern that would be, the ruler and his heir keeping secrets from one another. That makes for a dodgy relationship doesn’t it? Maybe the king had plans for you to use your oh so special magic to come and spy. Maybe even harm . Harming a pretty face like mine would be simply devastating, don't you agree?” He flinches as he feels cool metal prick against his collar bone. His eyes darting everywhere to avoid my gaze, his expressions giving me reason to believe my assumptions could be correct. “You must’ve been so proud that your King picked you, huh?” The tip of my dagger digs into the bone just a little causing him to squeal like a pig.

I stand up walking over to the table against the stone wall and pick up two vials. One to mute his Wield, boosting the mage shackles he wears and another to replenish his lost blood just enough that he doesn’t die on me quite yet. I shove the vials into his shaky hands, while he tries to fight against my grip. “Drink.” My Wield steps back into his mind convincing him of much worse horrors if he doesn’t drink them. Each of the vials liquids goes down his throat and he swallows thickly. I pace slowly in front of him, “of course if the king and yourself are in on a secret plan to destroy me, that still doesn’t answer the small issue of why the prince wants a meeting.” Percy’s eyes are squeezed shut, his breathing evening out as the liquids do their job. I lean back down into his face, “do you know why your prince…what’s his name again?”

“Rorin.” He chokes out, bloodshot eyes finally staring back at me.

“Rorin.” The name glides off my tongue. “Percy…do you know why Rorin wants to meet me?” He shakes his head vigorously back and forth, holding in his answer. My lips curl up into a smile, “liar.” I loosen my Wield just a little that it tickles against his face.

He sucks in a fast sharp breath, “yo-your,” he starts.

The small tendril strokes his dirtied tear-stained cheek. “Yes…“ I coo.

“a-a-armies.” My armies? Interesting …I think. I want to ask more, but the vials worked too quickly as his body relaxes and he passes out on me, the exhaustion of our conversation kicking in. My foot lands a kick into his boot, but he remains unconscious. I look up in the direction of the rooms human-sized exit where two of my guards wait, “you can take him back to the cells, boys. I’ll finish playing with him later.” They enter the room, wary, not wanting to be too close to Vada as they hoist the wounded Vellaran back to his cell.

I call my Wield back into me, my inked serpents settling and moving less on my skin now that my magic isn’t agitated. My gaze catches on the little two dimensional creatures that curl around my arms as if they are snuggling into me. The ink is interesting enough, done by some common Mages when I was young to help hold the Wield.

“ Go, little demon. I can feel your exhaustion, and you smell. It’s irritating me. ” Vada’s voice invades my mind snapping me from my hazy thought, my attention leaving the tattoos and landing on her golden stare.

“ I smell? You’re a giant fucking lizard. It’s not like your scent is always pleasant. ” I quip. The end of her tail snaps against the stone above my head as she turns from the room leaving me among the mess.

“ Irksome human. ” She grumbles forcing me to hold back my laughter. I dust off the debris that fell down on me while she’s disappears back into her hovel. The black of her scales melting completely from view. I take the moment to go through my mental checklist before leaving the Room and the mess behind.

Refuse a prince: Check

Torture: Double check.

Tease Dragon: Triple check.

Fulfilling night all in all , I think.