Page 80 of Red Queen

For now, we run.

Chapter

Sixteen

Eleanna

Iwatch with a heavy heart as the last of our people cross the threshold into the grounds of an eerie, abandoned castle on the outskirts of the realm that now serves as our refuge. Alexandru’s once-mighty stronghold, reduced to ashes and memories, lies far behind us, its fall from grace mirroring the upheaval in my own soul. The miraculous blood of my father courses through me, leaving a trail of potent change in its wake, but it’s a bitter salve for the loss we’ve endured.

“Set up here.” Alexandru’s commanding voice cuts through the chill air, stirring his warriors and their families into action.

His silver eyes meet mine for a moment—steadfast, determined—and then he’s moving among his men, aiding the wounded, his hands stained with the lifeblood of those who fell defending what we believed in.

I have the magic components we risked so much for, but what’s the point? Getting close to Catarina, especially with the Darkened Pulse, is near impossible. But that’s not somethingwe’ll be attempting any time soon. Not with the injured and so many people we need to protect and feed.

The castle grounds are a flurry of activity as fires are lit against the encroaching cold, and tents rise as temporary homes within the ruins.

I help wrap a young warrior’s torso, brushing my fingers over the bandages—one of many tended lacerations and broken spirits. The shared grief is a palpable thing; it clings to everyone, an unwanted reminder born of lost loved ones and homes turned to dust.

“Eleanna, come, you must rest.” Alexandru’s words are gentle but laced with the command I’ve come to both resist and crave.

Within the castle, we choose a room untouched by time yet ravaged by neglect. Nadia helps me clean the room as best we can, then she leaves to help the others set up camp within the ancient walls and courtyard.

I sweep my gaze across the dimly lit chamber with flickering candlelight. The room reeks of dampness and decay. A four-poster bed, its velvet curtains tattered and worn, dominates the space. A single, dusty window reveals a desolate landscape beyond and allows a chilly breeze to enter through the broken glass, carrying with it the distant sounds of Alexandru and his officers discussing their next move.

While Alexandru confers with his officers outside, I rest on the bed. The candlelight hurdles flecks of light on the stone walls, illuminating the dampness and mustiness that cling to every surface. I pull the threadbare covers closer around me, seeking warmth in a world grown cold.

“We shall rise again,” I whisper to the empty room, the conviction in my voice battling the uncertainty that gnaws at my resolve.

Supernatural power courses through me, untapped and formidable, waiting for the moment to reclaim what has been taken from us.

My mind wanders back to my original goal of securing my rule over the Sagori vampire family and ensuring their supremacy among the vampire clans by bringing back the bloodletting tradition. But now, doubt creeps in, clouding my thoughts as I question whether the old ways should really be revived.

I trace the raven tattoo on my calf, my fingers lingering on the intricate lines that form the emblem of my family’s crest. Too restless to lay down, I rise and pace. My father’s blood has healed me of the poison Catarina injected, but it’s also changed me physically. I glance into a dusty mirror hanging on the wall, and I’m shocked to discover that my eyes are no longer blue but a cerise color that marks me as one of the most powerful vampires in existence.

Pondering my newfound strength, I’m surprised when three ravens fly through the broken window. Glossy black feathers reflect what little light filters from outside, and their red eyes glow like embers in the darkness, giving off an otherworldly aura filled with a sense of purpose and belonging. They move with vampiric speed and unnatural swiftness as they circle around me, then elegantly land on the furniture.

A thrill of recognition runs through me—they’re a sign of my family’s crest, a good omen in this dark moment.

“Welcome,” I say warmly to them.

The ravenskraain response, intelligent and attentive to my presence.

I feel an instant connection with them, a supernatural bond that tells me they’re now my familiars, ready to do my bidding. I name them Moros, Erebos, and Nyx, after the ancient gods of darkness and night.

“Moros, Erebos, Nyx,” I say to each raven in turn, solidifying our bond as they regard me with their gleaming, unnatural eyes.

These birds shall be my allies, my guardians.

The ravens, perched like protective bodyguards, watch me. Moros ruffles his feathers and hops along the armrest of a chair, Erebos preens his sleek wings, and Nyx seems to scrutinize an old tapestry with his head tilted in curiosity.

Dark, tumultuous thoughts rage within me like a powerful gale. The weight of my family’s legacy suffocates as I sit in this place of exile and loss, haunted by the past and traditions that once seemed unbreakable. My father’s expectations loom over me like a heavy shackle, but suddenly, I yearn to break free from them.

Alexandru—his image comes unbidden to my mind, his strength, his unwavering presence beside me through the recent upheaval. But I’ve been afraid to show any hint of weakness or vulnerability. Yet, something inside me is changing. It’s in the racing of my heart whenever he crosses my mind.

I refuse to admit it, even to myself, won’t allow the words to form even in my mind, but the truth presses against my lips—I’m falling in love with him. But I must never tell him, never admit.

“Eleanna.” Alexandru’s voice breaks through my reverie as he strides into the chamber. His silver eyes gleam like moonlight.

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