Page 189 of Filthy Rich Vampires: For Eternity

I was Queen. Not him. He could lust after my power. He could try to claim it, but magic had chosen me. It had deemed me worthy. I had not asked for it. But I could no longer fear it. Because even before the throne, my magic had been with me. It was a part of me. It had always been there. I’d found it in my music long before I knew what I was or who I would become. It was inside me. It was mine. I was magic.

I listened for its song. Magic’s notes sang through the air, high and bright around me, low and foreboding in the shadows. Life and death caught up in their endless dance. I opened myself to those dark notes, called them forth. Quinn cried out as darkness wove around me, blocking out the light, blocking out the entire room until it shrank away like a memory, leaving only him and I.

Willem’s eyes locked with mine as the shadows swirled.

“If you had your voice, would you beg?” I asked him. I shook my head, feeling my throat slide. “I spent my whole life wanting to meet my father. What a disappointment you were.”

I lifted one finger and twisted, conducting the dreadful symphony around us. The notes were brittle, jagged things that climbed up and then fell down again, a venomous melody of discordant keys. Darkness curled around his neck, creating a garrote. He opened his mouth, his eyes bulging from the pressure, and the shadows shot down his throat. Willem gagged, clutching at his throat, trying to find the words to save himself. But nothing could save him now. I wouldn’t allow it. I didn’t look away as death sang its final lullaby. I watched as it claimed him, watched as he paid for his sins.

He didn’t suffer enough.

And when his body crumpled to the floor, I closed my eyes and let that terrible music fade back into the shadows of the world. When I opened my eyes, not a trace remained.

But the world rumbled beneath me as magic died.

I felt magic unspool around me, heard its broken melody faintly. Aurelia had told me that with two Queens, they had barely managed to maintain control over the Rio Oscuro and had nearly lost the source of magic altogether. Now I was the only thing standing in the way of its total destruction—and I wasn’t strong enough. Not after calling on my power to end Willem. Not with so little mastery of my own magic.

A faint warmth spread through me as I thought of my mother’s final words: Trust yourself. But how? I’d caused all of this. I pulled in a deep breath, let it out, and listened.

I had to try.

I had to save them.

Closing my eyes, I focused on the song of the magic, using it like a lifeline to guide me. Its muted notes ebbed away, the sound of fading magic, but soon I heard a gentle swell of notes carrying the vibrancy of life, the air in my lungs, the earth beneath my feet. Magic called out to me, like the remnant of a dream, like a whisper. A new resonance hummed through my bones, and when I looked at my friends, I not only heard magic.

I saw it.

Golden threads wove around Quinn. She cast worried eyes on me before turning her attention back to Lysander’s wounds. And as I watched, the threads of magic settled around her head like a halo.

A crown.

Three crowns to bind.

I dashed to her and dropped to my feet before Lysander. “The prophecy you found in that grimoire. What did it say?”

He grimaced as he pushed up, his dark hair sticking to his bloody face. “About the Queens?”

I nodded as the ground shook beneath us. I lurched forward, the stone floor stinging as my palms grappled across it.

“Three crowns to bind,” he repeated from memory. “Three thrones to choose. Three Queens to sacrifice. Ever as three bound. Ever as three free.”

“What does it mean?” Quinn called as the ancient walls groaned around us.

“I think the thrones are choosing you. It might be are only chance to stop the source from collapsing.”

“Me?” But even as she spoke, the golden light glowed more brightly around her head.

“Yes, two Queens will be enough to stop it.”

“But what about the others? The spell?” Lysander asked.

“Will you take the crown and give it back?” I asked Quinn. “The spell will bind everyone until three Queens release the enchantment binding the thrones to the source.” Ever as three bound. Ever as three free.

“Yes, but...” she trailed away, and I knew what she was thinking.

Two Queens weren’t enough to break the spell, holding everyone else, holding Julian. We needed a third. Another Queen willing to both take the throne and give it up to wake them. I turned to him, searching for a sign that thrones would choose him—begging for magic to show this one mercy.

There were none.

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