Page 145 of The Ballad of the Vampire Prince

I have your back, little fawn.

I safeguard this precious feeling in my heart.

Duvall arrives, briefly glancing at my new position on the high throne, but says nothing. The council resumes its endless debate on wars and taxes. Time passes quickly today knowing that I have a date by the end of it.

I have a date. I have a date. I have a date.

I just need to pretend I’m brave and strong for a few moments longer.

Lady Eilidh stares curiously at a parchment, before presenting it to court. “I find it incredibly strange that the bandits are requesting gold and silver. Our currency is practically useless in Darvan, Avalon and Myrkheim.”

“My sources are telling me they’re planning to use it to buy Asterdust,” Lord Nemarion states with a tight expression.

Duvall’s sharp gaze move to the warrior. There is an intensity in his eyes that I haven’t glimpsed before. “We have not produced Asterdust for centuries. That is one bold imputation to make.”

I swear Lord Nemarion’s golden face pales a little at that stare.

“We should ask King Mavren. He’s been dealing with the orkan rebels for years,” I suggest to the council members.

“How do you propose we do that?” Duvall asks, letting his question drawl into silence. “Do you perhaps wish to write a letter to the orc king?”

I walk right into that one.

Something cold settles in my guts when I hear laughter from the members of the court. I don’t bother noting who did.

It has become something of a court’s jest. I retreat into a memory of that fifty-year-old joke, the reason why I only have three Royal Knights instead of thirty-three like my mother and the sovereigns before me.

Eighteen years old is young, even by human standards, but Aerin had crowned me as queen. I was a scared broken girl whose family was just murdered in the name of the Archon. I locked myself in the room in my tower for days.

One night, Blaire scaled the walls and snuck into my bedroom and said, “You’re the queen now. You can change things. Have you heard about the tale of Lady Siofra?”

I shook my head and she immediately poured a story. “She was the lady of Celestria. Everyone managed to evacuate safely before the invasion but she was captured by Myrkheim. The tales of the orcs from the priestesses are all horrific.”

“What should we do?” I asked my friend.

Blaire’s determined eyes met mine. “We tell him to free her.”

So, we wrote a letter to the orc king.

Hello, Mavren,

Please return Lady Siofra to us.

Rhianelle Wiolant, Queen of Aelfheim.

After I signed it using the royal seal, we forced Blaire’s chubby pigeon to deliver it for us.

Nothing happened after that. We continued with our lives as usual.

But seven days later a giant albatross arrived at the court bearing Myrkheim’s coat of arms.

Dear Rhianelle Wiolant of Völundr, Queen of Aelfheim,

I hope this letter finds you well. We have grown fond of the Lady of Celestria. If you insist upon her return, it is by our tradition that you must defeat and bring back an Auroch from Elysian.

Sincerely, Mavren Aeldrath Malgorth.

That single letter erupted an uproar to the court. Apparently, there should not have been any direct contact between our kingdoms. It was a desecration.

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