But the belief I had in myself was merely the naive ideals of a child who read too many fairy-tales when she was young. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t make it. And they knew I wouldn’t.
I reached my arm out, keeping my eyes shut, and closed my fist softly around the dewy grass, while the distant lashing of a wild ocean forced a painful smile onto my lips. I’d not heard the ocean for days. I never went to see that lighthouse, never got to sit on the roof and watch the day wear on. Never even had the chance to tell Arthur that David was alive. I would. If I could go back, I’d tell him, so that maybe his heart could be free. And Mike, I’d tell him how sorry I was for breaking his heart, and even admit that he was always right—that I needed to listen to him more often.
As I rubbed one foot over the other to scratch off an irritating bug, I frowned at the feel of heavy fabric, like rustling silk mixed with cotton, stacked on top of me.
I rolled up on my elbows and looked down at the dress, fitted to the waist, sprawled out around me like a pool of black blood, and all along my arms, the Markings gleamed against my perfect white skin.
As golden sunlight shifted across the long grass, following some imaginary path of duty, I saw a tree at the center of a field: Jason’s field.
I must have died or knocked myself unconscious.
Leaning on one elbow, I reached across my body and pinched my own arm, and it hurt!
I looked over at the tree again. This world was too real to be Jason’s. The undertone of fogginess it came with wasn’t looming. This was bright. Fresh. Flavored like a summer morning.
I shot to my feet and watched the dawn sun travel over my toes and ankles, up the fabric of my dress, making it orange before, finally, brightening the ancient symbols on my hands—my promise in ink. But it slipped past me quickly, heading for the border of the forest.
Dawn.
I had to run. I had to make it through to the other side, to the manor, the Throne Room—to my people. It wasn’t too late. But if the light touched that tree line, I’d never make it out of that forest.
I hitched my dress up and ran, racing the rise of the sun. And as I came upon the forest, stepped a little more cautiously, holding my hands up as if to ward off something evil.
“I command you not to trap me in here for eternity,” I said to it, and my fingertips became warm. I walked carefully through the trees, which huddled together like frightened children, and as I lifted my dress above my feet, noticed that my toes, my nails, my ankles, everything was clean, polished, as if I’d never left.
And maybe that was right. Maybe I never left. Maybe I never really went anywhere at all, because everything I needed to find was already in me.
A breath of composure filled my lungs and cooled my soul as I slowed to a walk, making my heart settle its erratic beat. I shut my eyes and painted on a soft smile, breaking free of the forest just as the orange sun touched the canopy.
Each step I took over the grass felt like walking on clouds; my powers were back, I could feel them. I could feel myself almost floating, as if gravity had forgotten me. I watched, waiting for someone in the faceless crowd to notice I was here, and as the sun came past the trees, sinking down the canopy and out through the trunks, everyone turned their heads one by one—shock drinking their eyes and moving to their lips in a smile.
I finally reached the top of the small hill, and each subject, barely able to contain the applause, laid a path of white roses at my feet. I walked right over them, feeling them break beneath me, but the thorns did not cut; my feet had grown stronger—torn down to be built back up. Nothing would ever break me again. I had proven my worth. I made it.
Arthur’s face showed among the blur, and he bowed to me, receiving the warmest smile I owned. In his heart, I could almost hear him say I never doubted you. And I appreciated that. Because I knew he was the only one who never did.
As I walked through the doors of the Throne Room, Lilith’s marble columns seemed to greet me, and for some reason, I didn’t mind that they were fake, because it was what people saw that really counted. And they saw a Throne Room, they saw a princess walk the red carpet, and in that they saw a future. It didn’t matter what foundations the lie had been built on, as long as it stayed solid. As long as it was real to them.
The white roses stopped below the first step to my throne, but as I made it to the top, saw one red rose on the seat. I reached out and grabbed it, looking up quickly when I felt its thornless stem. And as I turned back to face my people, searched the crowd for David, knowing he was out there—somewhere.
A man in a long burgundy cloak stepped up beside me, and as he placed a small, uninteresting gold circle atop my head, an intensely warm surge of blood heated my skin under the inscription of my promise, igniting the dense black to a brilliant, glowing blue, as if a tiny light shone from behind each word. My blood pulsed and shifted under the burn, but I smiled, clenching my fists, focusing on the cold red rose in my hand.
My David was here, watching. He was actually here.
The fire receded then, and a unified gasp filled the court as the Markings discolored, fading into my skin.
The oath was complete. My promise eternal.
I started this journey as a young girl, and now stood before my people as something so much more.
This is the path.
This is the question.
I am the answer.
I am faith.
I am hope.
I am Queen.
11
As instructed by the old cronies who really run the show around here, for the entire three hours of my very first Court session, I nodded, smiled, glanced at Walter-Mustache-Man for an answer and ruled everything according to his and the Councils’ nods or head-shakes. In future, I’d probably look to Mike or Falcon, but since they and my other three knights were off completing their Sacrificial Rights—you know, kneeling in prayer and all that—I only had Emily, Eric, Morg and the House. And Arthur, but he’d nodded only once in opinion and it was on something very minor. I knew he felt it wasn’t his place to say, and that was true, he had no real business giving me advice unless he was on my council, but I trusted his opinion.
I sat back in my chair, listening to the last dregs of this Lilithian’s complaint, trying not to look utterly exhausted. But the Walk of Faith was still thick in my bones and my emotions, and a few times, I’d even had to resist the urge to break down and cry. I felt dirty, like I was still covered in blood and muck from the forest floor, but each time I looked down at my hands, was surprised to see perfectly trimmed, perfectly clean nails.
But things were winding down. From what I could tell, we had about two or three cases left to deal with, then I could rest for a few hours before the ball.
When the Lilithian man stepped back into the crowd, Walter stood up from his House table to my left and wandered forward, flipping pages in his notepad.
“Your Majesty, Queen Amara, I present Derek Hill of the Lower House.”
I smiled at Derek, who bowed, smiling back as he stood. He had an eager grin and small eyes, bright with intelligence, and what I read as a lust for life—proverbially—not the kind he usually lusted after, being that he was a vampire. My stomach growled at the sight of him.
“Your Majesty, first of all, congratulations on this special day.”
“Thank you, Derek.” I gave a soft nod. “And, what can I do for you today?”
“I am here to address the new laws of Vampire Sets.”
“Go on.”
“We are thrilled with the recent decision that those under your rule are free from their Set, but we were unclear on a few of the restrictions.”
“Okay, what did you want to know?”
“Several of my people wish to partake in career paths which may lead to one being widely noticed.”
“Like fame?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
I looked over at Morgaine. She did warn me that simply allowing vampires to be under my rule without i
ssuing guidelines would be a bad idea. But I never thought of anything like fame. I guess I just assumed free meant free.
“Declined,” Walter said, without even looking up.
“Now, hang on a sec.” I stood up. “Why?”
“Queen Amara, you know the reasons we have the laws we do. Even when Lilith ruled, this restriction applied to Lilithians also, not just vampires. We must not be a spectacle in the public eye.”
“Why, because we don’t age?”
“That, and people may study us too closely, come to conclusions about what we are.”
“Walter, were you not in the Queen’s Navy when Lilith ruled?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, but—”
“Then you were well-known?”
“Yes, but it differs greatly to one seeking world fame in a modern society.”
“Right. Okay, so…” I looked back at Derek. “What kinds of careers are we talking?”
“I have two bands and an aspiring actor.”
“Denied,” Walter said, without giving the man any further chance to speak.
“Stop saying that.”
“My queen, not only is it unsafe, as it may expose us to the human world, but we have skills and experience far beyond that of a human,” Walter reasoned. “What right do we have to take rolls they could otherwise occupy?”
“By giving music to the world?” My brow arched. “Walter, what right do we have to keep music from anybody just because we may be better than someone else? Music, any area of creativity and self-expression should belong to everyone: vampires, humans, Lilithians—whoever. It’s a gift.”
“And what about in twenty years when this famous person has not aged?” Margret said.
“With the advances in medical science now, no one would really notice,” I said.
“Well, that’s not the point, Your Majesty. We stick to tradition.” Walter sat down.
“Well, I don’t like it.” I sat down too. “What does everyone else here think?”
The crowd looked among themselves, shrugging, their eyes a little wide.
“Someone speak up,” I said. “Should vampires and Lilithians be allowed to follow careers of passion which would lead to fame?”
A hand shot up in the back of the room. “I think so, Your Majesty.”
“As do I,” another said, and it seemed to be unified. Mainly only really ancient vampires or Lilithians disapproved.
I looked at Arthur, who didn’t seem to have an opinion either way. I wished he did, because I’d have ruled based on what he thought. I even gave a little nod with wider eyes, prompting his guidance, but he just smiled apologetically.
“What kinds of music?” I finally looked back at Derek.
He glanced over his shoulder at a group of young guys, who nodded eagerly at him. “Alternative and rock.”
And I was sold.
To my right, Eric sat beside Emily, grinning widely at the vampires behind Derek. I wondered if they were in his band or if maybe he just knew them.
“So, you want to write original songs?” I looked directly at the bands.
When ushered forward, one guy stepped up and bowed quickly. “We already have, Majesty. We’ve been writing for about twenty years. But we’ve just been working the cover scene, you know, since we aren’t allowed to get noticed.”
I took a deep breath. I wanted to say yes, I really did, but Walter and the rest of the House would surely skin me if I did. Except, it wasn’t fair; none of the Ancients played music—not one from the House could even play piano. They just didn’t have the passion, didn’t understand the burn it caused inside you; what it took to write a song and want to share that with the world. And if someone told me I could never live that dream just because I was bitten and turned into a vampire, I think I’d shut myself in a coffin for the rest of eternity, because that’s what it would feel like anyway.
Eric gave me a reassuring smile, and the excitement in his eyes set the words to my mouth before I saw them shape in my brain. “Granted,” I said.
Walter stood, a few people gasped, but it was buried under the loud rejoicing of the majority.
Derek bowed lowly and said, “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“You’re welcome.” I turned my head to catch Eric’s eye for a second. “But you all know how to keep yourselves in check. Don’t make what you are obvious and don’t do anything stupid, or I will revoke your rights. Got it?”
The boys in the bands all nodded, bowing then nodding again.
“Okay. Next on the list, Walter?”
He was pissed, I could tell. But it was kind-of okay, and this queen-duties-thing was actually pretty fun. Well, most of it.
“Your Majesty, I present case number”—he looked at his notepad—“sixty-five: Mr. Hamilton and Miss Crane.”
“Hello.” I nodded to them. They both bowed nervously.
“Your Majesty.” The man knelt before me, his hand on his heart. “I am in love with this girl, and I wish to marry her. But her sister, a twin, was recently granted rights to become a vampire by the former king. Only”—he looked back at the girl—“she didn’t have the gene.”
I tensed, remembering the day I discovered that same fact about myself. The girl held back tears, standing tall and strong.
“And what would you like to do about that?” I asked.
“With your permission, Majesty, we seek the right to live together—to… to be together while she remain human.”
Everyone gasped.
“You understand there are reasons this has not been allowed in the past, unless under very special circumstances?”
“I do, Your Majesty.” He bowed lower, tension resting on his shoulders like a heavy load. “But I love her, and I can’t risk losing her.”
“Have you ever thought of, perhaps, changing her into a Lilithian?”
He looked up at me. “No, Your Majesty, I hadn’t. I didn’t know that was a possibility.”
“Things have changed around here,” I said and stood up, taking a few steps to stand before the man. “To your feet.”
He slowly got up, arching his back to keep his head lower than mine. How terribly old-fashioned. But I understood, thanks to all my lectures from the Officials, that this was how it had to be, silly or not.
“It’s dangerous, as her bite can put you in a coma.” I smiled over my shoulder at my Private Council, wishing we could spread word about immunity. “But, knowing this, would you want that life for her? She will be forced to feed through a slit in a willing vampire’s vein. She can never bite,” I said.
He looked up at me, his eyes bright with a smile. “Yes, my Queen, that would be fine—for the sake of eternity together, I would do anything, even feed her myself.”
Behind him, the girl’s eyes glittered with hope. I didn’t even need to ask if she wanted this or not.
“Good. Then I approve.” I looked over at Morgaine, half noticing the man step back and take his girlfriend’s hand. “Morg, can you see this happens for them, please?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” She bowed her head. “I’ll turn her myself.”
“Very well,” I said. “Then it is done.”
“Thank you, Queen Amara.” His voice almost broke. “I am your eternal servant.”
I kind of laughed. “No need for that. But, if ever you feel the need to extend your family, please do consider adopting one of the Immortal Damned. We’re hoping to have them ready for society within a few months, and we’re looking, preemptively, for families to care for them.”
The man’s gray eyes became wider and he shook his head, bowing at the same time. “Of course, Your Majesty. We… we’d be only too happy to.”
“Great.” I smiled out across the crowded room, finally happy to be Queen.
* * *
Given that the knighting ceremony was supposed to be next week, I’d brushed off the ‘Rising of the Knights’ speech, figuring I’d learn it after the coronation. Now, I stood behind the curtain of my throne, Court
finished for the day, knees shaking, knowing I would make a fool of myself when I walked out there in front of five hundred people, words lost in the back of my throat, and let out only a small squeak. They say preparation is confidence, but I was so not prepared.
When Walter announced me, I thrust my shoulders back, tilted my chin to the sky and stepped out from the curtain. Every breath, with every step I took, sounded like it was exhaled right into a microphone. I could hear everything around me; the heartbeats of my people, the silent worry of my council, the throat clearing of the old vampires, and the foot tapping of eager subjects in the back row.
I stood with my toes just on the edge of the top step, and my eyes washed across the tightly packed crowd, leaving one clear aisle of red carpet where the knights would walk in a few moments. And a proverbial furry cat climbed into my throat and ate my tongue.
After a tense pause, I inhaled a deep, shaky breath of nerves and held it, closing my eyes. The words of my speech rolled across my eyelids, and my mind flashed to the memory of the day Mike delivered this same speech to the knights—when they were still human. He stood so tall in front of the hundreds, as if they were a small group of friends, confident, comfortable in his own skin.
“For generations,” he’d said, “the Lilithian knights have survived in secrecy; trained by night, kept underground, unknown to exist. We have been few and ineffective. Now, with the rising of a new queen, we too have clambered from the ashes of insignificance. We will become strong, impenetrable—a force to be reckoned with.”
And listening in my head to his words, my own part of the speech came to mind. “The legend of the knights began with the first Created Lilithian,” I started, my voice clear, unwavering. “Queen Lilith, whose source of nourishment saw the deaths of many vampires, discovered that her brother sought to imprison her and take the throne. Knowing the creation of vampires to be possible from a bite, she attempted the same on a human man named Lancelot.
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