Chapter 54
Chapter Fifty-Four
DARK QUEEN
Michael is gone.
Another piece of me, lost. I can’t believe this is happening.
He had no choice, though. I gave him my name, but it wasn’t enough to keep him safe.
The first attempt on his life came before we left Old London.
An arrow, poison-tipped, shot between the guards as we left the building following the judgement.
Luckily Bertrand managed to deflect it, so it clattered harmlessly to the ground.
The second was more serious. A bomb, placed under our car.
Only found because Bertrand insisted on upping my security to ridiculous levels, inspecting every inch of my rooms, cars and belongings, each time I made a move.
I understood, though. The fact I didn’t want Michael to leave my side meant I was in danger, too.
I couldn’t guarantee he’d be safe on the estate, either, though I tried my best. He would have been a prisoner, and he is not someone to be caged.
He sent me the message, early.
Come to the Gatehouse.
I knew what it meant, was already sobbing as I crossed the dew-spangled lawns, tendrils of mist curling among the trees. But I had to do it. I had to let him go.
He, too, was crying as he opened the door, folding me in his arms. I clung to him, breathing in his heat, his smoky incense scent.
He didn’t say a word, simply drew me into his bedroom and undressed me, tenderly, kissing me as he went, then removed his own clothes before making love to me with a wild desperation.
Afterwards, he cradled me in his arms. ‘Come with me,’ he murmured, dropping soft kisses on my brow, my cheeks, the brush of his lashes on my skin.
‘You know I can’t.’ Each word a knife, cutting me deeper. I knew where he was going, of course. The one place he could disappear to, but where he knew I could find him.
Back to the Greenwood. A one-way ticket; Cass won’t let him go a third time. Ira will keep an eye on things and let me know how he’s doing. If I need him to, he’ll take me there. A small thread of hope, in a howling darkness.,
So I tried to be brave, even as I stroked every part of him I could reach, breathed him in, memorising each line and contour of his skin, the warmth of his touch, telling myself that I could do this, that I could let him go.
But when I heard the rumble of the van pulling up outside, I broke. ‘I can’t do this alone,’ I sobbed.
He took my hands, kissing the ring on my finger.
‘You can, my love,’ he said. ‘You have it in you to make all the changes you want to make. You are strong, and fierce, and the bravest person I know.’ He was crying, his tears mingling with mine.
‘I’ll always believe in you, not just because I love you.
I believe you can make a better world. And that we’ll be able to share it, one day.
’ He kissed me, salt on our lips. ‘What happened to your mother … fuck.’ He wiped his eyes.
‘I would give my own life to change that. To bring her back.’
‘No!’ I wrapped my arms around him. ‘You do not give your life for me. Ever.’
He stroked my face. A single tear, crystal-bright, rolled down his cheek. ‘I would, though. If it meant keeping you safe, I would give everything.’
‘I love you,’ I said through my own tears. ‘So much.’
I watched him get dressed, kissed the tears from his eyes, ran my hands through his golden hair as I kissed him one last time.
Then, when the door closed behind him, I screamed into pillows that still smelled of our love, shredded the sheets, howled my rage and sorrow to the uncaring skies.
Then I dressed and crossed the lawns, a queen of snow and shadows.
Now I’m lying on my bed in my room, alone. The curtains are open, the shutters disengaged on my order, sunlight sparking off the mirror, the velvet and carved wood. I don’t want anyone else coming in here.
Tears slide into my ears as I huff and arch my back. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop crying. I know I have things to do. A whole realm to rule. But God and darkness, can I not have time to grieve my mother? My broken heart?
There’s a sharp knock on my bedroom door. ‘Emelia?’
The voice is raw, broken, as though whoever is speaking has been screaming for a long time. Perhaps they have. I wipe my face, taking a moment to pull myself together. I go to the door, but don’t open it.
‘Father?’ I haven’t seen him much since my coronation, both of us too bound in our own grief. The court is in mourning, which means no events. No parties, no meetings. Nothing but the most essential of work.
Joaquin is still here. I’ve only seen him a handful of times, always with Varin. He seems genuinely shaken by my mother’s death, expressing his sorrow, his dark eyes liquid with pain. I can’t find it in myself to ask him to go.
My mother is due to be buried shortly. I suppose Father has come to talk to me about that, though arrangements have already been made. A private funeral. Neither of us can deal with anything more. Or maybe he wants to update me about the Scorpion situation, whatever that is.
‘You need to come out here, now.’ Pain cracks in his voice.
‘Stand back.’ I wait a moment then open the door, squeezing out through the smallest possible space. My father is a few feet away, a tall shape in the darkness. No candle lamps, now. We all prefer it that way.
‘What is it?’
He turns and walks away, beckoning me to follow.
It’s torture to be in the house, my mother’s presence permeating the very walls.
Apparently, my father tried to destroy her clothing in the Costume Room.
Varin managed to stop him before he did too much damage, or so Bertrand told me, though apparently her wedding dress is shredded beyond repair.
Father leads me to the War Room, ushering me inside.
It’s dark, apart from flickering images on the screen pulled down against one wall.
I try not to gasp at his ravaged face, his golden eyes dulled, dust in his dark hair as though he’s been sleeping in a crypt.
Varin and Joaquin are already here, both watching the screen with their arms folded.
Cameras pan past destroyed buildings, bloodstained streets, then rise higher, showing a town that looks as though a bomb hit it. I frown, unsure what I’m seeing.
Then I spot a familiar ferry terminal. Or rather, what’s left of it.
I choke down sickness. The camera drops down, revealing a pile of human remains on the edge of the dock, next to scattered luggage. As though they were waiting to escape when whatever hit the island did this. As the scene zooms in on a bloodstained teddy bear, I look away.
‘Scorpion?’
I’ve heard nothing more from them since the events of the judgement.
Our borders remain quiet. The incinerated guards left nothing behind but melted plates of armour, no hint of whatever technology had been fitted into their helmets.
If it was a declaration of war, I’m still waiting for the other boot to drop.
And trying to decide whether or not to drop it myself.
‘No.’ My father turns his head, his expression dark. ‘Reapers.’
I keep watching. The report is worse than I could have imagined.
The majority of the remaining population, including children, were slaughtered.
Those few who did manage to get away spoke of dark figures in the night, arriving out of nowhere.
It happened a couple of days before my coronation, but it took the survivors that long to be picked up, floating in their small boats.
‘We finish this, now,’ my father growls. ‘It’s time for the woods to be cleared, the scourge of Reapers to be gone. It’s time, Emelia, for Raven to deal with this.’ He gestures to the screen. ‘It cannot go unanswered!’
The news report is damning. Public sentiment seems pretty clear.
Everyone, not just my father, wants me to blow the Reapers apart.
The Channel Islands project was my big gesture, and they destroyed it.
In any other circumstance it would be the normal thing to do.
Except I know it wasn’t Reapers. I cannot risk their secrets being exposed.
Sophie and Michael are both in the network.
I can’t jeopardise their, or anyone else’s safety.
‘How will the new Raven respond?’ the newsreader says, black ribbon garlanding her desk.
‘Sequestered still in mourning, the realm waits to see what her response to the Reapers will be,’ she continues, as the camera pans past the wreckage.
‘Despite the ill-advised nature of this settlement, we can’t escape the fact that Reapers have been the scourge of the Great Forest for too long.
Perhaps it’s time to put an end to this lawless menace, once and for all, as Scorpion are trying to do in their own realm. ’
Everyone in the room is looking at me. Even though I’m not wearing my crown I can feel it. Like a band of ice around my head, around my heart. Anger rises, darkness and flame.
‘Clear the islands. Move the human survivors to the mainland and kill any vampires you find there. We’ll discuss Reapers after my mother is laid to rest.’ So easy, if I don’t feel anything, to make these choices.
My father nods. ‘All right.’ His voice is monotone. I want to scream, to shake him.
‘How do we know this isn’t Scorpion, anyway?
That … gift of theirs had to have come from somewhere.
’ My voice is cold, hard, as though when Michael left, he took all that was soft and warm about me.
I cannot share my sorrow at his loss; I have to keep it locked inside.
They’ll find out he’s gone, soon enough, and I’ll act as surprised as anyone else.
‘Increase the guard presence on all our borders. Let them see that it’s not going to be easy, after all. Let them see this Raven has teeth.’
I feel my power flex, the wildness in my blood. I am the Raven, both human and vampire. And I am ready to unleash darkness.