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Prologue
The fall of Scarlata Empire
Claudia Fullmall Gawerula stood tall amongst her falling kingdom without shedding a single tear. Aggressive, fuming fires ripped apart building after building in the distance, the growing roar and crackle of burning wood vaguely disguising the horrified, gutted screams of her people as they took their last breaths.
She blinked at the stench of burning flesh that wafted through the slight breeze, but she did not shed a tear.
Claudia flinched when she heard the hungry, animalistic growls of her people—people who were once kind and patient—as they ripped into innocent bystanders on the streets with their sharp teeth. Even so, she did not cry.
The Queen of Scarlata Empire only lifted her chin, beholding the crumbling walls of everything she had worked so hard to build over the last fifty years. She had created peace, created a home not only for herself and her new daughter but for the thousands of other vampyres who counted on her.
For once, vampyres were living in harmony, kingdoms away from any fae who might feel weary about the habits of her people.
It didn’t matter how much good she did in the world, though. It never did. She could never stand a chance against the hunger.
She sighed and removed the heavy golden crown from her head as she stood atop the tallest hill that surrounded the kingdom, away from the war below. The second the fae invaded, she had summoned her wings to find her way here. Not to escape the fight, no. She would never leave her people to fight alone. She merely needed one moment—one last look—to remember Scarlata Empire as it once was.
For she knew deep in her bones, like the most primal foretelling of any attack, that their time as a kingdom was over. The fae would never let them exist for so long without retaliating, especially when the hungry ones had been growing more and more.
Being a vampyre herself, Claudia understood the nearly impossible cravings to sink one’s teeth into another's flesh, but those cravings must be controlled if one wished to remain sane. Giving into that bloodlust—letting the hunger take over and control your senses until you were its slave—was what she had lost so many of her people to. They turned into monsters, into the vampyres that most of the fae feared.
Claudia was not like that. Her sister was not like that, nor was her neighbor or the baker who rose at dawn daily to make bread for the kingdom.
But it did not matter to the fae. They would take and take and take, killing whatever they feared because they knew no better.
Below her, the fighting intensified. She looked down, holding her crown between her hands as she watched faeattacking vampyres, and vampyres draining the blood from fae.
Some of the vampyres, understand, were innocent. They were not the soulless, hungry monsters that fed on the flesh of their attackers. Those innocent vampyres tried to run, tried to escape, but they were surrounded.
The queen’s heart hurt, not just for the innocent vampyres but for the vampyre with lost souls, too.
She knew her kingdom would fall eventually. The numbers of the hungry ones had been increasing for decades. It did not matter how much she begged the goddess to save her kingdom; it was only a matter of time.
But the Queen of Scarlata Empire did not fear death. She set her crown upon the grassy hill, drew her sword, summoned her wings, and flew to fight with her people against the invaders that wished them all dead.
Perhaps she would die today. She would fight with her people against the fae, and she would wield her sword with honor and with respect for the ones who had already fallen. She would fight until her very last breath with her chin held high, because perhaps her kingdom was falling, but she would die remembering what Scarlata Empire stood for.
Chapter
One
“Begin,” Lord’s order rang through the stone cave walls before he retreated, backing into the protection of shadows.
My opponent emerged from that same darkness, one step after the other. Even in such little light, I could see the raw, primal energy beneath the cloth mask that hid his features.
I was sure his energy matched my own.
My feet were lithe feathers beneath me, ready to move at my will. My heart beat steadily with power, reminding me of my strength.
Reminding me of mypurpose.
Another opponent, another fight, another test.
Another opportunity to prove to Lord that I was the best, the strongest, the most violent.
I counted to three, waiting for my opponent to make the first move. Over the last twenty-two years, I had learned how to spot a male’s intention to fight.
They could hardly restrain themselves from lashing out within the first three seconds.
