Page 56 of Heir

“I’m not staying here,” he said.

I rolled my eyes and growled which made him wince so I tempered my voice and took a deep breath to calm my quick temper. “I figured when someone nearly dies, and they find their aunt murdered on her carpet, that people are generally nicer to them. Help them. Do as they ask. Or is that just humans? Vampires don’t give a shit about someone’s loved one dying.”

His nostrils flared. “I’m coming. And you didn’t nearly die. Demons can only die—”

“By beheading. Yeah, I know. You’ve said.” This . . . man, or whatever he was, was infuriating. But as much as I disliked him, I also didn’t want to be responsible for sauteing his brain. So I just said, “whatever”, locked the door, and headed down the stairs. “How far is Fiddleman’s?” I asked, directing my question to Maxar and actively ignoring Drak.

“Only a couple of blocks,” he said, catching up to me and Zandren. “We shouldn’t have to take the subway or bus. We can just walk, right?”

I smirked at him. “Yeah, we can just walk.”

He dramatically placed the back of his hand over his forehead like some fainting damsel. “Phew.”

We arrived at the unassuming little store sandwiched between a sandwich shop and a barbershop. Fiddleman’s Apothecary and Herbs.

“I’m going to grab a quick sandwich,” Zandren said, ducking into the sandwich shop before I heaved open the door to Fiddleman’s, causing the jingle of a sweet-sounding bell.

A dark-skinned man with short, curly black hair and bright blue-gray eyes came out from a storage room to the side. “Hello folks, and how can I help you three today?” He sniffed the air slightly and smiled. “Quite an unlikely trio, I might add.”

“You will bow and apologize to your Queen,” Drak said with an angry edge of authority to his voice.

The man behind the counter gawked at him. His eyes went wide, then he swiveled his attention to me. “I . . . I’m . . . My apologies. Y-Your Majesty?”

I glared at Drak. “No. Please don’t do that. He’s being an ass.” I shot Drak another look. “Go sit in the corner. You’re being a bully.”

He didn’t move.

I deepened my stare. Then bared my teeth and hissed at him. “Go.”

He winced again because my anger was hurting his head. This time I didn’t feel too terrible about it. He was such a rude dick, someone needed to keep him accountable and put him in his place. I held his gaze until he heaved a sigh, nodded and finally sulked off.

“I apologize Mr. . . . Fiddleman, I presume?”

He nodded. “Monjol Fiddleman. And I’m so sorry, Your Majesty. But may I ask . . . what are you the queen of?”

I exhaled. “You know my aunt. Delia Refera?”

He nodded. “Your aunt?” Then his eyes widened and his face lit up. “Omaera?”

I forced a smile, though fresh thoughts of my aunt brought me back to reality like a harsh, wet slap to the face. I swallowed past the hard, spikey lump in my throat. “Yes. It would seem . . .” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “It would seem I am some secret lovechild of King Donovar and my mother, Elena Playfair. Elena died when I was an infant, but Donovar was just killed. When he died, I became Queen of well . . . the Realm, I guess? It’s been like less than forty-eight hours, so I’m still processing.”

I wasn’t sure the man was breathing. He just gaped at me with an open mouth and wide eyes. “All I know is that Delia has a niece she adores. She speaks of you often. You make her so proud.”

“She was murdered,” I said abruptly, ripping off the news like a Band-Aid.

Mr. Fiddleman gasped. “No. Not Delia.”

“By demons.”

He covered his hand with his mouth. “Oh. Oh no, no, no. This . . . this can’t be. I just saw her yesterday.”

And I wish I’d seen her yesterday. Maybe I could have prevented this from happening.

I should have gone to her right away after I was struck by lightning. But she wasn’t even home. She was away on a trip, and only just arrived home yesterday. I wanted to give her time to unpack and get back to normal.

Now, I wish I’d just come over anyway. And definitely when I felt the need to go to her last night. She taught me to always listen to my gut. And last night my gut told me to go to her.

I’d never not listen to my gut again.

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