CHAPTER 3 #2
“Yeah, it sure is,” I say, catching my gratitude in my throat before my voice quivers.
We’ve worked hard for nights like this, and the generation skipping up to porches is the first to experience life this way in the Night Kingdom.
Lilygate is evidence of how life can be for humans in a vampire world.
It’s our shining accomplishment and a special place.
We knew if we ever saw this day, we had done something right.
It was the dream of this town over the last century that kept me going when I didn’t think I could anymore.
Before we’re even fully paused in front of the tavern, Emmanuel opens the carriage door, lips about to stretch right off his face. “Thanks for this stop,” he says to me and whisks himself through the creaking door of the bar. The cheers from within are deafening in response, even from outside.
“You’d think with all the money he wins off these people, they wouldn’t like him so much,” Second grumbles next to me. Second doesn’t frequent taverns, and the vampire chooses not to drink, instead demanding focus on his duty.
“You know he just donates it right back to their community,” I laugh.
“Yeah, well. Some of us have to buy love, I guess.”
I roll my eyes at the male and cross the threshold of the bar. The dimly lit space is crowded and warm, humans huddled around tables with cards and pints.
Conversations halt, music dies, glassware thuds, and the room stands as I enter.
I raise a hand. “No need for all that tonight, friends. Please just let us join in the fun for a bit.”
“My queen,” the bartender says, tipping his glass in my direction and slamming a shot into his mouth.
“Thank you, Ben,” I tell him with a laugh, and the tavern bursts back to life.
Ben’s young daughter skids into Em’s side, and he kneels down. “What are you doing up so late, Victoria?” he scolds with a smile.
She shrugs her tiny shoulders drowning in her red puffed-sleeve dress. “It’s a holiday. I’m allowed.” Victoria’s eyes skirt to me, and she steps back from Em with a deep curtsy.
“You may rise, Victoria,” I say, and her eyes twinkle as she wrings her hands in front of her, staring up at her queen. “And I brought you something.”
A gasp escapes her small mouth. “What is it?”
“A snowflake.”
Her eyes narrow. “Snowflakes melt.”
“Not this one,” I say, reaching into my pocket for the ornament and handing her the velvet pouch.
She gently pulls the crystal snowflake from it, holding it up by its string. It glimmers in the candlelight, and Victoria’s responding smile fires into my heart. I never had the opportunity to have children before I was turned.
“I want to hang it by my bed. All year,” she says, entranced by the reflecting light.
“You should.”
“I’m going to do it right now,” she says and begins to scurry off before bolting back and colliding with my leg, hugging tightly. “Thank you.”
I chuckle and rub her back. “You’re welcome, honey.”
She races away, and I wink at Em. “Told you she’d like it.”
“You were right,” he laughs and parks himself and his sly grin at a table. Charlotte joins him as cards are dealt. Ben hands them pints, and they get to work while Second and I settle into a quiet corner together, surveying the bar in silence for a while.
“You’re of few words,” Second tells me.
Our eyes connect.
“Just taking it all in.”
He nods, expression somber. “I’m glad we carved out time for this stop.”
“Me too.”
Groans and cheers spout from Emmanuel and Charlotte’s table, and Second and I smile at one another.
I trace my finger along the edge of the table, staring over at my people again as they enjoy the moment. “You and I will either get our shot at the king or we’re going to need to come back for the entire legion and start a war.”
Second crosses his arms over his chest, his chair groaning as he leans back. “I really hope it’s not the latter.”
I huff. “The anticipation is eating me alive.”
“You’re not alone in that.”
Ben saunters over to us, Victoria right behind her father, and she crawls into my lap. I wrap an arm around her, snuggling her close and shoving down the sorrow that I will never hold my own child.
“Word is Lilygate should be on our guard. Apparently, there’s an uprising across the channel,” Ben says.
Second stiffens. “Yeah. We’ve sent reinforcements. Nothing will touch our borders, though.”
The bar owner shifts on his feet. “But just in case, is protocol still the same?”
I look up at Ben. “Yes. Do not alter course. Shelter in Ruthlessness.”
He bows his head. “Thank you, my queen.”
“We need to leave soon,” Second says.
Victoria twists in my grasp. “You just got here.”
“It’s been twenty minutes,” Second says.
Victoria whips her face to the general of my army. “Not long enough, sir.”
I suppress a smirk.
“My apologies,” Second replies. “But I must get your queen to safety before sunrise.”
“Oh my gods, of course,” Victoria says, leaping from my lap.
“Language,” Ben scolds, and her cheeks flush. “Off to bed with you.”
She gives me a final curtsy. “Goodnight, my queen.”
“Goodnight, Victoria. Sweet dreams.”
She dashes away as I stand, and Emmanuel’s discerning gaze shifts from his deck—he always has one eye on his queen.
I jerk my chin, and he lays down his hand, the entire table groaning in response when he sweeps the pile of coins from the table into a pouch.
Emmanuel tosses Ben the coin purse. “Drinks and meals for the bar are on me tonight.”
Ben beams at my assassin. “They’ll be happy to hear it.”
“See you soon,” Em says, and we follow him out of the bar, every patron standing in honor as we leave.
Second lumbers into the carriage behind me. “Onward to Death, shall we?” he asks.
I grin. I always knew I’d love naming that stronghold for its intended purpose.
Castle Death holds the fence at our northern border, the one we share with Goreon.
“Onward to Death, my friend.”
Second’s palm bats the side of the carriage, and we jolt forward again.
There are three strongholds interspersed throughout my territory.
Each castle represents the tenets of my command—Prosperity, Ruthlessness, and Death.
Prosperity to those who obey the laws set to benefit all of us, ruthlessness to protect our kingdom, and death to those who challenge either of the first two.
My main home is Prosperity because she’s lovely, and I like nice things.
Lost in thought, we stare out of the window as the landscape passes by. And after several hours, mist begins to crawl along the edge of thick pine trees, the forest growing dense the further north we travel into higher elevation and harsher climates.
Before the sun crests the horizon, we pull up to Castle Death in the whistling wind.
I open the carriage door with fervor and beeline for my second favorite place, which sings to the predator caged within me. The Gothic fortress, with gnarled vines draping its iron and stone facade, is the epitome of darkness.
The sunrise warning chimes from the towers of the stronghold as guards haul open the iron doors, the Night Kingdom crest embedded in the metal. I step into a hall of deep purple and black walls, strolling into Death as daylight breaks through the darkness outside.
Second drops his satchel on the floor, and Emmanuel sweeps past him, spinning in the foyer.
“I forget how much I miss this place until I’m here,” he says, staring at the ceiling, our wars illustrated in a moody, bloody mural down the long corridor leading to the throne room.
“I know,” Charlotte says, breezing past him in her trousers and coat.
I grin at her backside as she struts down the entry hall of Death. It’s rare to see Charlotte in anything other than her finest gowns.
I roll out my shoulders. “I need to rest,” I say and hoist my own case toward the royal rooms. We don’t keep steady staff at Castle Death, just guards. If we’re here, it’s for a reason, and we need warriors ready to fight, not staff to haul trunks full of gowns or dust the furniture.
After several stairwells, I step into my bedroom, pulling at the pins in my hair, and they quickly gather in my palm. I place them on the ebony dressing table and unsheathe the blade at my right thigh. I draw the other from my left and set my favorite daggers next to the hair pins.
Shrugging out of my coat to unclasp the first hook at the front of my bodice, my breasts puffing against my effort, I undo the next and the next until I can breathe and my ribs are free. Thank the gods. I unload my pockets, placing the contents next to the pins, and finally I slip out of my pants.
Naked, I stare at myself and the jarring reminder of my humanity in the mirror.
In the crook of my shoulder, the fang marks that turned me are a cruel deep purple on my fair skin, the last evidence I was ever human. A daily reminder of the choice I never had, a visual of the moment I lost everything.
Damn the gods.
Vampires don’t scar, but the last brand to our skin never fades.
I slink into my soft bed, body begging for rest with daybreak. My being calms, and I close my eyes into the comfort of darkness and stillness, away from my fears surrounding this mission and pestering thoughts of failure.
Day passes, and I jolt awake, sensing my surroundings in the dim bedroom.
I’m alone.
Just nightmares waking me. Rattling fear filled my dreams instead of slipping away as I’d hoped.
Loneliness chirps incessantly, and I try to brush it aside while dressing. Looping my hair up into a tight bun, I wait for the door to swing open. And it does, right on cue.
“Ready?” Second asks from my doorway, twirling a stake in his hand while I strap on thigh sheaths.
There are no pauses in training, not even during travel, but I enjoy working on my fighting skillset. And Second insists on it. Because, in the end, a queen must defend her own throne.
“You’re not even ready for me today,” I warn. “I’m pent up.”
Second narrows his eyes. “Anything I need to know?”
“Nerves. Fear of failure,” I say.
“Let’s work it out,” he says, turning on his heel, and I chase after him, looking forward to this session.
We wind down the stairwells to the large, padded room we designed for this specific purpose. Second swings the door open, and the wall of weapons greets us—a collection so glorious my heart leaps in answer to it. The image captures my breath every time.
“What’ll it be today?” I ask.
Second yanks two broadswords off the wall. “Your weakest weapon.”
I sigh at the ceiling but know it’s for the best. The broadsword is an important weapon for taking the head off a vampire. I prefer my daggers, though.
Second chucks the sword at me, and I catch it with ease. He lunges with no warning, his massive form challenging to avoid.
I skirt around him, dipping and thrusting my sword, evading and attacking with speed.
“Stronger forward stance, Veya,” he corrects and jabs at me.
I push through my foot, bracing with my thigh, and thrust forward.
Vampires are strong; our transformation upon turning creates something unbreakable.
But we aren’t made equal, and the physicality of our humanity still plays a role.
The older we are, the stronger and faster we become.
So an ancient Goreon king, over a thousand years old, would be able to rip my head off, probably more quickly than I care to admit.
But that’s why Emmanuel and Charlotte exist—and Second, of course.
“Good,” Second praises, his bright eyes meeting mine. “Again.”
I swipe at him, my lungs burning alongside my determination.
Envisioning our success, I daydream what King Nerian’s final moments will look like when my blades take off his head. The relief I will feel.
I huff a laugh through my next swing.
This evil tyrant, who’s proposed marriage and joining our rules, can’t possibly believe that I would agree to that.
The irony is that Nerian’s offer is an echo of my own strategy with the foreign princes over the last century.
Maybe Nerian does believe I would bend to his wishes to save my kingdom from an invasion.
But he doesn’t know me well, and he’s going to find out the hard way that I don’t break for evil.
I don’t give up. And nothing will stop me from protecting the Night Kingdom from him.
With all that I am, I will thwart this king.
Second’s blade slices across my wrist, and I hiss, gaze flicking to my wound as it begins to stitch itself back together.
“Damnit.”
“Where’s the focus, Veya?”
Not on this training session.
I lower my weapon. “I’m wasting our time today.”
Second narrows his eyes at me. “You’re never wasting my time.”
“I’m eager to get on the road,” I tell him, hoping to placate the curiosity spiking across his features.
“It’s more than that.”
I shrug. “Didn’t sleep well, either.”
Second cocks an eyebrow. “We should be practicing how to lie better, because you’re failing miserably right now.”
My lips pinch a smile into submission.
Second secures our weapons on the wall and loops an arm over my shoulder. “You’re not going to tell me. That’s fine. Let’s get the fuck out of here, then.”
I sigh under the weight of his arm before he pushes me through the door.
We’re packed within the hour and on our way to the northern border.
To Goreon.