I thought I knew what loneliness felt like.
It feels like I’ve lost half of myself…no, more than that. I have nothing left at all. Both halves of my soul were taken from me when she died.
And I am the one that killed her.
She did not come back to me. Our last moments together were marred by the false hope that she would return as a vampire–the false hope that we could cheat fate.
So she is gone, and I am to blame.
And, as cruelty would have it, I am still a vampire, and so she died for nothing.
My love. My sweet agony. My heart. My poison. My soul. My reason.
Gone.
There is nothing left for me here. Nothing that would ease this suffering and nothing that would bring me happiness. The only thing I have left to do is wait until the sun is high enough to caress my skin.
This time, I shall let it burn.
The walls of my broken palace leave nothing in the shadows as the sun begins to rise. The soft oranges dance across the sky, but I see no vibrancy in the color. Though my eyes can see the different hues, my heart sees only black and white.
When the sun crests over the valley, I turn my head away from the bright light. I slowly open the front of my tunic to expose more of my chest to the sun and I wait for the bitter, searing sting of the light piercing my skin.
A soft laugh comes from behind me. “I thought you were jealous of the sun, but from where I’m sitting, it looks to me like you wish to seduce it.”
My head twitches at her voice. A twisted illusion, surely, left behind by the Priestesses to torture me. I open my eyes, for the sun does not burn, and notice there's a dark ward surrounding the palace, blocking the sunlight from touching me.
My hand touches my chest in confusion, and I stand to reach through the ward, believing that I’m being deceived.
As my fingers touch the magic, I’m pulled backward, landing on my back in front of the steps that led to my throne.
I open my eyes. From my position on my back and my head nearly upside down resting on a rock, I see a long velvet train in a deep oxblood color.
Sitting on the ruins of what used to be my throne, is a woman wearing a golden headdress adorned with red jewels that hum a dark energy. She motions a finger to the side and the veil covering her face disappears into a fine mist. She smiles at me, her teeth a beautiful pearly white with two short but sharp fangs. She licks them and raises her chin a bit.
Then, my eyes meet hers. Stunningly vibrant and blue just like I remember them, framed by dark brows and thick lashes.
“Adelasia?” I whisper, still believing I’m in an illusion. I flip over and sit back on my knees. My mouth opens slightly in disbelief. Stabbed through one of the spikes on her head is a red eye.
I approach her with my supernatural speed, arms open and ready to embrace her, but she stops me with a foot to my chest. I wrap my hand around the sole and squeeze to prove she’s real.
With a dead, emotionless face, she quietly says, “Kneel.”
“Adelasia–”
Black magic wraps around my mouth to cut off her name, and she waves her black-tipped finger at me as if I’m a petulant child.
“Kneel, Kaius Voroninov, before your queen.”
She releases me and I do as she says, my mouth still agape in confusion.
“Good little crow,” she purrs, leaning forward to take my chin in her hands. “But we need to work on your listening skills.”
Something seems…off about her. The theatrics, the voice, the cruelty in her tone. But under all of that, she is still my Adelasia.
“Here’s your first lesson,” she says, and then slowly, without us breaking eye contact, she places one foot on my shoulder and spreads the other slightly before pressing me forward with her heel. “I don’t ask twice. Surely you’re familiar with that concept?”
She leans back once again, raises her chin, and I smile at my new Queen.
And she is absolutely, stunninglywicked.
