Page 3 of Eternal Captive

I didn’t know what to expect when Father found Mother dead. Maybe panic. Maybe fear.Somethingthat would prove to me that he wasn’t the cold vampire he’d shown me my entire life and that maybe it was just a front to keep his power.

But he couldn’t even manage topretendhe cared about my mother.

Because he never had.All he cared about was that somehow a witch had been able to sneak into his palace, showing a weakness in his carefully curated image.

He didn’t care that his queen was dead. He didn’t care that the mother of his only child was dead. And because there was no one here to watch this unfold, he had no use for the facade of loving her.

And Krae watched it all, saying nothing.

The two servants were teary-eyed, their love for my mother obvious. But neither of them spoke out as they took her body away from me. Their allegiance was to my father. No matter how much they loved my mother, the blood oath they swore was to the family.

Which he held the power to.

“No one will know about this,” he said, his eyes following the servants as they took her body. His lips turned downward at the side.Disgust.

There was one more by his side, and the man kept his eyes to the ground.

“We need to let the people know,” I said, my voice hollow and dejected. I didn’t understand the intricacies of running a vampire family, but surely not telling them anything wouldmake things worse. “They deserve to know. They deserve to grieve. How are you gonna explain the queen’s disappearance?”

A small smirk spread across Father’s lips.

“We report that the queen died of health reasons, no more information, no less,” he answered, placing his hands on his hips. His eyes wandered up to the goddess. “No one needs to know about the witches. Imagine if everyone knew how easy it was to get into the palace.”

Then his eyes met mine. There was a silent demand for me to agree with him. As if this notion wasn’t an insult to the mother I loved so dearly.

I had no words. All I had was a burning fury inside me. I let it consume me as I launched myself off the ground and at my father. I screamed at him, pounding my fist against his chest.

“My mother died! She’s dead, and you could’ve saved her!”

Pain exploded from my head as my back and neck were slammed onto the cold marble steps. I was dazed in those moments, unable to fully comprehend what had happened to me. I was standing upright one moment, then writhing in pain on the cold floor right where my mother had died the next, my father’s hand around my throat.

My eyes widened as I met his glare. I had seen that look before, but never had it gotten to that point. I flailed, tried desperately to push him off, but he was far stronger than me.

“Enough of that,” he growled. “Don’t you dare say anything of the sort. Not in front of me, and definitely not in front of the rest of the kingdom.”

He squeezed my throat painfully, not allowing any air to escape in or out. I was gasping for breath, much too similarly to my mother just moments before.

Was this how she felt when she was facing her death? Was this how it felt to be watched by the goddess as you tried helplessly to save yourself?

“Pl-Please?—”

“What’s that?” he asked. “I won’t accept anything other than an apology from a spoiled brat like you. Do you realize how much I’ve done for this kingdom? Do you realize what I’m going to have to do in order to make sure that the kingdom still loves us after this?”

I pounded his shoulder. Black covered the edges of my vision.No more, please, no more.

“I-I’m…sor-sorry?—”

“Some people have already gotten word. I hear them approaching,” his servant said behind him. I could barely make out the words. Even my slow heartbeat sounded like it was underwater.

Finally, Father let go of my throat. I turned to the side, coughing and heaving. Sweet, delicious air filled my lungs, providing me with much-needed oxygen while burning at the same time.

I couldn’t look at him as he left. His servant lingered and then dropped a small handkerchief in front of me before turning and following him.

I grabbed the perfectly white cloth and wiped up the spit and mucus on my face, secretly glad that I could sully it.

My mother hid this from me, but I had noticed it. I noticed when they fought. When Father wanted to punish me, Mother would take him into the other room instead. What I hadn’t realized was that she was taking the punishment for me.

She let me keep my rose-colored glasses on as long as she could, but now that she was gone, those glasses shattered, the sharp pieces embedding into my skin, burrowing so deep that they would be there as a painful reminder for the rest of my life.

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