Page 20 of Their Blood Queen

It should have been, I think to myself, the thought a rebellious, bitter one.

The last thing I want is to be Earl Rinhold’s bride. I can pretend I’ll belong to a monster instead. Preferably one who has a penchant for devouring Earls.

Like a Dream Eater? I muse.

I know Cain is no God, so maybe praying to him can be my fantasy. One where he saves me from my predicament and whisks me away into a realm of dreams and nightmares.

Except, I know it doesn’t typically work that way. If Cain did take a candidate, he likely wouldn’t be alone. Monsters tend to mate in groups, as far as I’m aware. I’ve never heard of a Dream Eater besides Cain, so there probably isn’t a compatible monster who could handle him in a group setting.

Perhaps that’s why you’ve never taken a mate, I wonder as I undo my hair from its many pins and curls, taking away the silver chains to allow it to unfurl over my shoulders.

There’s no one who can stand to be around you.

I swear there’s a growl that comes from the full-length mirror in my closet, making me raise a brow at it.

Rosie scampers in with my black book plastered against her chest, her eyes wide as she fumbles with it and then holds the leatherbound diary out to me.

Because it’s more of a diary than a real book.

It’s where I’ve written all my observations and emotions that flutter around inside my chest when I read someone. Those feelings tend to slip away after a few hours, so I write them down.

“Thank you. That’ll be all, Rosie,” I say as I take the book from her.

She lingers in the doorway and pulls at her fingernails, then curls her fingers into fists to stem the bad habit. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay, my lady? I could stay.” She eyes the doorway. It wouldn’t be the first time she slept on the floor on a makeshift nest.

Because of my episodes. My mother’s illness gave her other things to worry about, so I stopped going to her early on.

I sweep her into a hug, surprising both her and myself.

I’m not supposed to become attached to the servants, but really, I don’t have any friends.

I don’t have anyone.

Rosie has been a part of my life for over five years, riding the wave with me through the sectors and my mother’s illness.

Without her, I would probably have already gone mad.

“I don’t deserve you, Rosie,” I whisper against her ear as I give her a squeeze.

Once the shock has worn off, she tentatively hugs me back. “You deserve everything. You’ve been nothing but good to me, my lady.” She pulls away and runs her thumb down my arm, avoiding the fresh cuts. “And now they do this to you. It’s not proper.”

The wounds don’t bleed out, but they’re red and angry. The mark will stay as a reminder of what’s coming.

A reminder of what I’ve agreed to.

But what choice is there? Allow my mother to die and possibly my whole family to be killed all because of pride?

Bowing to any man is a severe hit to that pride. I’m painfully aware it’s my weakness, but it’s also my strength.

It’s why I would have made an excellent Duchess of a new village of my making.

One where women rule—not men.

Now that plan is nothing more than a dream to be sacrificed along with all the selections from my father’s village.

No… Duke Nightingale’s village.

I know what happens to every male or female chosen for Monsters Night. They’re put on a train and thrust onto the streets of Monster City, and we watch and wait.

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