Page 1 of Red Queen

Chapter

One

Eleanna

Blood is my birthright, and I wear it like a crown.

With deliberate steps, I stride toward the ancient throne. Each footfall echoes through the hall like a heartbeat in my dark realm.

Blood. And the power it brings. Those are mine. I let the words slip down into me, along with the throne room’s cold, unyielding embrace. It’s my sanctuary, where the formidable power flowing through my veins thrums with pride and ruthlessness.

The crown. I’ve wanted this. Was made for this. And now the moment is on me and the quaver inside at the momentous occasion, the tiny tremor, is something no one else will ever see. To them, I’m stone like the floor and walls. And as unforgiving.

I’m dripping in the power that permeates the throne room.

Blood will soon be spilled in my name, and I want it to flow freely, stain the stones red. Below me, the room brims with the vampires of my court—my family, some distant descendants ofmy ancient bloodline, all bound by the lineage that defines our existence.

For a moment another tremor passes through me inside, but I catch the eyes of Nadia and Meredith, my most trusted court allies and the tremor fades.

I glide forward to accept my rightful place as the next queen. My long skirt billows around me, and my sculpted bodice clings to my form like a second skin. My bones and veins are drenched in the essence of gloom, the power that gathers there, the power that’s mine. It presses against me, a lover’s touch. And every vampire here waits for the moment of ascension.

I can almost hear the whisper of the merciless power I wield over my domain. And so can every vampire in here. Their gazes follow my every movement, like I captivate with my dark majesty.

This isn’t arrogance. The aura comes with the crown. My birthright. The power it radiates. The power in the darkest corners of the throne room.

I wait until everyone stills.

“Brothers and sisters of the night!” My voice cuts through the silence as I stand in front of the throne, the weight of countless stares upon me. “Hear me now. My rule shall be upheld by three inviolable laws.”

The small bite of nerves vanishes as I settle onto the iron throne.

The court is a sea of pale faces and gleaming eyes, their features illuminated by the flickering torchlight. Their murmurs swell into a hissing chorus, a crescendo of anticipation and fear as they await the proclamation they know will come.

I sweep my gaze across the cavernous throne room, where shadows cling to stone walls like loyal subjects, their tendrils embracing the ancient masonry. High above, gargoyles peer down from their lofty perches, their grotesque features foreveretched by centuries of vigilance. The winter’s breath seeps through the ancient mortar, chilling the air, and as I exhale, my breath materializes into ghostly wisps, puffing fleetingly like smoke before dissipating into the darkness.

This is all mine. Finally.

“First, as your future queen,” I say, locking my gaze onto each of them in turn, “the Sagori bloodline will honor the ancient covenant. We’ll feast on human blood as our forebears did. And no betrayal shall go unpunished. We are of one family, and loyalty is the blood that binds us. Once I am crowned, my might will not be defied. We’ll stand supreme among vampires, unrivaled and unyielding.”

My words hang heavily in the room, echoing the old ways, the true ways.

As I survey the assembled subjects, a flash of dark hair and silver eyes catches my attention, causing my breath to hitch. Alexandru. I snag on his gaze, but he turns, disappearing in the crowd.

The fleeting glimpse is enough to trigger a sudden, visceral memory of combat training with Alexandru, my former lover and once betrothed. My heart clenches. Once, our bodies moved in tandem, in a tango of savage grace. Our sparring sessions transcended mere practice, and they became intimate on many levels. We shared an understanding of power and the lethal poise required to survive centuries.

And we shared the give and take of wild passion.

There were softer moments, the stolen kisses that morphed into more. The way?—

The way he hurt me. That exists, too.

The sharp sting of those painful memories resurfaces—the humiliation and betrayal that consumed me when he cast me aside, callously calling off our wedding years ago. The woundthrobs anew, and I clench my jaw, determined to maintain my composure in the face of this unwelcome ghost from my past.

I didn’t invite him but as a respected general, I shouldn’t be surprised to see him. The shock is from my reaction, the bite of the past.

The memories flicker and fade, and the present commands my attention. My purpose.

I recall the teachings of my father, the lessons steeped in blood and honed by the old ways.

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