Page 3 of Red Queen

“Stand your forces outside the gates down or I’ll destroy them,” I say to her.

Her eyes narrow. “Who said anything about them being outside?”

I don’t look from her. So traitors are in here. I flick a finger to signal the guards.

Catarina’s hatred and ambition radiate from her in palpable waves, her gathered forces poised to usurp what she cannot earn.

But I stand unwavering, my resolve as unyielding as the ancient stones beneath my feet. Catarina may believe herself to be my equal, but the delusion of her own grandeur blinds her to the truth—she is not, nor will she ever be.

My guards will be moving now, through the room, outside. Already a murmur rises in the hall. Then it falls silent.

Something is wrong.

There should be shouts, vampires dragged off.

Instead, there’s nothing.

The betrayal comes not as a sudden blow but as a creeping sensation that prickles my skin and sets my instincts on edge. The rustle of skirts, the shifting of weight, the soft click of unsheathed blades—each sound is a discordant note in the symphony of treason.

As I turn, my court, my supposed allies, transform before my eyes, their faces twisting with the same hunger for power that consumes Catarina. Swords glint in the flickering torchlight, their blades thirsting for my blood, as the once-loyal subjects become ravenous beasts, ready to tear me apart.

For a fleeting moment, shock and disbelief course through me, but they’re quickly consumed by a cold, seething fury. The betrayal stings, but it only stokes the flames of my determination.

“Traitors! How dare you raise your hands against your future queen!” I roar, masking any hint of doubt or fear.

I will not show weakness before these parasites.

The throne room transforms in the blink of an eye, the pandemonium of the fight marring the ornate pillars and gilded walls. Catarina’s army surges through the grand doors, their armor menacingly reflecting the flickering torchlight. The clang of swords and the flash of fangs fill the air as more vampires join the fray, their movements a fatal onslaught of steel and shadow.

Blood splatters across the marble floor, and the once-pristine surface becomes a canvas of carnage, smeared in shades of red gleaming in the dim light. Bodies litter the room, some still twitching and grasping for their weapons, while others lie motionless in growing pools of their own blood.

The sight of my subjects turning their blades against me sends a bitter chill through my veins, colder than the grave itself.I snarl, exposing fangs, as the white-hot rage within me reaches a boiling point, threatening to consume everything in its path.

Amid the rebellion, soldiers dressed in deep hues of blue and black engage in a vicious struggle, their gleaming swords clashing against each other. The metallic scent of blood permeates the air, mingling with the crackling moans of the dying and the battle cries of the still fighting. The throne room has become a macabre stage, where the struggle for power and survival plays out in a vivid display of brutality and desperation.

Two monstrous vampires charge toward my throne. Their eyes gleam with predatory intent, and their snarls echo off the stone walls. Adrenaline sets my nerves alight as I draw my blade from the side of the throne in one fluid motion. The razor-sharp edge shimmers in the dim light.

The first vampire lunges, his claws extended like talons seeking to tear into my flesh. I meet his blow with a resounding clank of metal. The impact reverberates through my bones. But he has me. His cold, skeletal grip tightens around my wrist, trying to wrench my weapon from my grasp, but I twist free with a savage growl, and my blade finds its mark. I plunge the sword through his heart and feel the sickening crunch of bone and sinew as his blood coats my hand in a grisly shade of red.

Before I can savor my victory, the other vampire swoops in, his face twisted in a grotesque sneer as his hand squeezes my throat like a vise. I struggle against his suffocating grip. My lungs burn for air as black spots dance at the edges of my vision. His icy breath ghosts across my skin, and his fangs inch closer to my jugular as he prepares to rip out my throat.

I relax into it, and he loosens his grip momentarily.

My vampiric speed and strength are my saving grace. I twist out of the vampire’s hold and swing my sword, cutting off his head. Metal bites through the air, blood sprays, staining his garments and the cold stone beneath our feet. From behind mecomes the lumber of feet and I whirl even as the coppery scent of blood ignites my thirst.

The vampire tries to strike, but I spear the head and fling it at him. Then I lash out, taking advantage of their distraction. I destroy him, too.

I dodge left, then right, parrying a strike from another vampire and plunging my blade into his heart. He crumples at my feet, the light in his eyes fading. Another one lunges from my left side and I turn and rip the head from its undead body, decapitating it with a sickening crunch. More assailants rush me, but I’m fueled by centuries of rage, of injustice, of a legacy spurned.

Through the chaos, Alexandru’s face appears, his chiseled features set in a cold, unfeeling mask.

The sight sends a jolt through my body, a sickening blend of longing and rage that makes my heart pound against my ribs like a caged beast. Memories of stolen moments and whispered promises flash through my mind, each one a bitter reminder of the love I once thought we shared.

Now there’s only hate.

Yet… Why is he here? To mock me? Torture me with his presence?

Alexandru’s eyes meet mine for the briefest of moments, and I search their icy depths for any hint of if he’s friend or foe, for any hint of the man I once knew, the man who held my heart in his hands. Instead, I find only a stranger, a treacherous dog who would turn his back on me without a second thought.

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