Page 33 of Red Queen

“Others are going to be needed.” Nicolai’s jaw sets hard.

Marianne’s eyes burn with the fire of bloodshed to come. “But those who can will join. I know it.”

Those who can. Those who still live, she means.

“Catarina’s blood will garnish the snow before the moon wanes,” I vow, the words laced with ice and fury.

Yet even as I speak of war, Eleanna’s scornful dismissal echoes in my mind, her cruel laughter a specter haunting me after we fucked last night. Did my claim I once had over her heart, her very being, drive her further into the shadows? Had. Have. It’s something I need to admit. I might still love her. Or the her she once was and could be again, before her father’s poison sank deep.

And before that exchange the sex was…. Perfect. My heart aches at the memory, but somehow, I push it from my mind and concentrate on our immediate mission.

A rustle from the forest edge snatches my attention. A lone figure emerges, his gait measured, deliberate. Dante. His chestnut curls are wild against his pale face, brown eyes intense with purpose. Clad in simple garb that does nothing to betray his allegiance to the castle, he halts us with an upraised hand.

“General Amanar. I’ll cut to the chase.” Dante addresses me, his posture rigid. “Catarina’s reign is poison. I’ve seen its effects, felt its cruel grip... and through it all, I’ve unearthed where she hides her vulnerability.”

“Speak, then,” I command. “Reveal this chink in her armor.”

“It’s her heart... not in the poetic sense, but quite literally. Hidden within the depths of her fortress, Catarina safeguards a talisman—a heart, bound by dark magic. It’s the source of her power, her life force tethered to this realm by the sorcery it’s imbued with that makes her invulnerable,” Dante says, trepidation, fear, and a glimmer of defiance sparks in his gaze, tempered by a shadow of unease at the mention of such dark magic.

The gravity of Dante’s revelation weighs heavily on me, casting a pall over the sunlit snow. A talisman, a heart bound by black magic, hidden away as the cornerstone of Catarina’s might. The audacity of such sorcery sends a chill through my bones, not for its invocation but what it means for our struggle.

This heart, an artifact of such power, explains the resilience and tyranny of Catarina’s reign. To think her life force, her dominion over us, is shackled to something so tangible yet so profoundly protected—it’s both a vulnerability and a formidable obstacle. The path to it will undoubtedly be risky, guarded by physical defenses along with enchantments shadowy and ancient.

I rub my chin as a plan begins to form, its shape vague, driven by the newly acquired knowledge of Catarina’s Achilles’ heel. To seize this heart would be to control her, to bring the tyrant to her knees. Yet, such as the journey is filled with uncertainties, an exhibit of the cunning and malice that’s allowed her to reign without being harmed.

Our victory, our very fate, hinges on a remnant of dark magic hidden within Eleanna’s former home. It stirs dread in me. Thepath to freedom from Catarina’s evil grasp will be costly and perilous.

Ivan looks at me. “General?”

“Could give us the opening we need,” I say, still considering the possibilities. “If what Dante says is true.”

“It is,” Dante says.

“Traitor!” Marianne spits. “Why should we trust the words of a rat fleeing his sinking ship?”

“Because I have nothing left to lose,” Dante says, his tone edged with desperation. “I only seek to support General Amanar. I swear my alliance to you and only you, my lord.”

Ivan, Henry, and Nicolai shift uneasily, their distrust evident.

Thing is, I never fully trust anyone unless it’s earned and information is what we’re out here for mainly. And fact finding, even rumors or traps, I need them all to pick and pull at threads.

If what Dante says is true, his information could change the course of this cursed war. Too many villages and towns have fallen. Too many have died.

The risk claws at my insides, but the reward—victory and Eleanna’s return to her throne—demands I stake everything on this gambit.

“Join us at the stronghold when you’re ready,” I say in a tone that brooks no argument. “Until then, return to her and be our eyes within the serpent’s nest.”

Dante nods with a grim set to his mouth. “I shall, General Amanar. But tread carefully. The snake is coiled tight around her dark heart.”

My thoughts are a tumultuous whirlpool, Eleanna’s face flashing within the churning waters. Her cruel dismissal still stings, but my claim over her is not merely born of passion—it’s a declaration of war against those who threaten what is mine.

“Back to the fortress!” I order. “We regroup, we gather those who can still come, we plan, and then we strike with the ferocity of winter’s harshest gale.”

A sudden rush of shadowy figures materialize from the white forest veil. Catarina’s vampire troops, vicious and unrelenting.

“Damn it, Dante!” Ivan glares at the man as our horses rear in panic.

“I swear by the moon, I did not lead them here!” Dante says, his form blurring into the forest with preternatural speed, vanishing from sight.

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