Page 61 of Treasured

A wisp of shadow left my palm, wrapping itself around the general’s throat. It pulled her upright and tightened. The vampire’s eyes bulged, and she stood still.

“I have not come all this way for a leisurely tour, Ophelia,” I hissed. “Do I seem like someone who would enjoy something like that?”

“N-n-no, Your Majesty.”

“Exactly.” I fanned my wings out behind me, freeing my shadows. They poured out of me, painting the midnight sky in darkness and snuffing out the starlight.

Ophelia’s bottom lip trembled at the sight of them.

Gods, she was weak. Isvana had only blessed her with shadows, and it showed. I had little time for vampires like her in my kingdom. Part of me wanted to kill her now, but I still needed her.

Reining in my impulse to rip off her head, I snapped, “I am here because of your failure. Gather the troops.” I withdrew the shadow-noose, confident she got the message. “Now.”

Ophelia ran off in a blur, and I straightened a wrinkle in my gown.

Yes.

I definitely needed to do this more often.

* * *

Human soldiers kneeled in rows on the snow-covered cobblestones. Most of them were visibly injured, and all of them were feeble mortals. Their teeth chattered, and their hands ran up and down their arms, rubbing as vigorously as they could while waiting.

They weren’t my concern. Not yet.

Far more frustrating than the mortals were the ten vampires who stood in front of them, bearing my insignia on their clothes.

My soldiers. My vampires. My failures.

Waving my hand, I constructed a ward of shadows around the eleven of us. The humans could still see in, but they couldn’t hear anything. This conversation wasn’t for them.

I walked in front of the vampires, my heels clicking on the cobblestones. They all stood ramrod straight, staring past me into the distance.

As if good posture would save them now. It was too late for that. There was no room for a lack of success in my court.

“Tell me, why was I sent word the Dragon Queen’s army has crossed the Koln Mountains?” My words rang through the privacy bubble, but none of them spoke.

A second went by. Two. Ten.

My patience snapped. I opened my palm. A shadow-whip formed in my hands. Curving my fingers around the handle, I asked my question again.

Still, there was no response.

I brought the weapon down. The whip cracked in the air before lashing across the face of the nearest vampire. He cried out, betraying his spinelessness, and I sneered as blood seeped from his wound.

“Speak!” I commanded the weakling.

“We fought them, Your Majesty,” the vampire said, ignoring the blood dripping down his face. “But the Dragon Queen’s soldiers are strong. Black magic runs through their veins, and they—”

His cowardly, sniveling words ended in a gurgle when I withdrew a stake from my dress pocket and slammed it into his chest. Black lines stretched from that point like a spider’s web until the useless vampire was a disgusting, shriveled corpse on the ground. Lifting the stake from his chest. I moved on to the next vampire.

More excuses. More lies. No answers.

Death came to each one of them. Some begged for mercy. A few cried. Others were stoic.

None survived my wrath.

By the time I reached the end of the line, only two vampires remained. Made by the same vampire, they were siblings-in-blood.

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