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The desire to feed and destroy is blinding. My fangs descend unbidden, slicing the skin inside my mouth. The taste of blood coats my tongue as I bite back howls of agony. I grit my teeth against the force of it, willing it back down until I can think again.
When I surface again, it’s to the sound of firm knocking demanding my attention.
Dragging myself to my feet, I quickly finish changing. On my way to answer the door, I snatch up the human-tainted shirt and lob it into the fire. The material goes up like dry parchment.
My brow furrows as I watch it burn to ash. There’s an overwhelming sense that I’m on the verge of remembering something. Something important….
The knocking begins again, the incessant sound severing my tenuous hold on the thought, letting it slip away.
I throw open the door and find one of the queen’s guards, one I don’t recognize. His face turns from annoyance to a weak attempt at hiding his fear confronted by my ire.
“Her Majesty requests your presence,” he says.
Grabbing a waistcoat and jacket, I pull them on as I walk out, striding past the guard. He stammers something unintelligible, closes my door, and scrambles to follow. He trails me the entire way to Elizabeth’s chambers as if there’s a possibility that I might get lost.
Every door within is open, allowing an unobstructed view of her standing before the expansive windows of her bedroom. Elizabeth wears a silk delphinium-blue robe embroidered with black filigree. It covers her from the neck down but shows every plane and curve of her body, tied in such a way as to seduce.
I stride forward and stop halfway in the room. The powdery scent of lavender oil is thick in the air.
She continues to stare out on the valley to the east. She takes a drink. Elizabeth sets the empty cup and matching saucer down on the oval side table to her left. It makes a musical but hollow sound, betraying the fact that it is not made of porcelain as it appears.
I remain silent. Patient.
Finally, she turns to me with a warm and expectant smile.
Perhaps it is the cold moonlight, but I cannot shake the wrongness of this place, of this moment. A distance I can’t cross, a sensation akin to reliving another man’s memories.
Elizabeth’s expression strains at the edges, then she sighs wistfully.
“Come,” she says. “I wish to speak with you about the upcoming coronation.”
Dutifully following her into the bathing chamber, I’m hit by a wall of humidity rising from a tub that’s almost large enough to swim in. Two of the room’s walls are little more than frosted glass with decorative wrought iron to hold the panes in place, creating the look of a garden made of cold metal.
Elizabeth glides up the three steps to the edge of the water. “Help me with this,” she says over her shoulder, though I don’t need to be told.
I’m already in motion. My duties were clear when she dismissed every servant whose job it is to wait on her hand and foot before my arrival.
I take the corners of her robe and set it to the side as she slips out of it and sinks into the water.
The pain that overtook me in my rooms has ebbed to a deep ache. I gaze through a circular area of clear glass at the endless night beyond.
The tangled web of black veins is a warning of some kind… but what exactly? Though they have receded, they haven’t disappeared. I still feel them now, dormant.
I not sure what to make of it. It’s both like a poison slowly working through me and like a living creature burrowed beneath my skin.
Could it be the root of all that has felt off these last several days? That only raises more questions. Had I fed from a human with poisoned blood? Or had that slayer done something to me, and her kiss nothing more than a distraction?
Thoughts whisper of her deceitful nature, even though she seems to be the only thing that can put me at ease. Just her presence can quiet the unceasing drone in my mind, dulling the pain and offering relief.
“What do you think, my love?” Elizabeth croons.
The question shatters through my tangled musings, and I realize I haven’t listened to a word she’s spoken this entire time.
I clear my throat. “I have no head for these things. All that matters is what makes you happy—that is the only thing that will please me.”
Elizabeth regards me steadily. Reaching up, she plucks the long pin from her hair. Her long tresses spill down her back into the water. I reach for the bronze pitcher and scoop up water to wet the rest of her hair. She sighs as I massage soap into her hair.
After a while, she resumes going over the details of the coronation and the extravagant masquerades she plans to throw leading up to it.
