And because of that knowledge, I can rely on him to keep his mouth shut.
For now.
“Oh James,” the Queen says finally. “How I wish it was only foresight that I lacked.” Her voice takes on a mocking quality. “But the truth is, my son, it was my trust that you were misusing.”
She gives a sad smile. “And my trust that you will never have again, after insulting me with that barrage of untruths.”
She withdraws a whip from her sleeve and snaps it forward before I can react. The end coils around my neck.
Panic rushes through me. It’s silver!
I try to grasp for the end but the pain that takes me is staggering. I fall to my knees. I try to fight, but it’s not just silver—the damn whip is infused with some sort of magic that makes it stronger. One of Mother’s accursed spells is augmenting the silver’s effects and making the anguish a thousand times worse.
“I sentence you to become one of The Convicted,” she announces. Her voice soars through the clearing as pure horror washes over me. “You will not see the moon or the stars again for as long as you linger. You will not have another taste of blood for the remainder of your existence. From this day on, I disown you as my eldest son. From this day on, I have only two male heirs—and I will treasure them for all they’re worth, because neither has ever dreamed of going against me as flamboyantly as you have.
“Your imprisonment will begin the day after the next Hunt. I want you to see what you’ll be missing—what you will never again have access to.”
“Mother!” Raul exclaims. His voice is filled with urgency. “You can’t! Think of the consequences. You mustn’t—”
Through the shock of her pronouncement, through the pain lashing through my body, I still find the ability to be astounded that Raul would stand up for me.
“You have no right to speak to me!” Morgan shrieks. She’s suddenly hysterical. “No right at all! My word is law! The sentence is final!”
Mother tugs on my chain. It drags me to her, making me feel pathetic as a bag of suet. I kick at the dirt and thrash against the onslaught of pain. But there’s nothing I can do to lessen it—nothing I can do to ease the horrid sensations raging through my body and mind.
“I’ll take him to the prison cells myself,” she says to the gathering. “And after… we will welcome our returned runaway, Eleira.”
Chapter Eight
ELEIRA
I’ve been on this plane for what feels like hours. I’ve been by myself after James left, waiting for Raul to return and bring me out.
I wonder what’s taking him so long. He was supposed to be quick. I can feel the presence of The Haven’s vampires surrounding the plane.
What will their reception of me be? I wonder. Now that I’m one of them…
But I’m not. Not really. I’m removed from what they are because of how my transformation came about.
Because of how much stronger I am than any of them.
The trouble is that I don’t understand what that means for me now. Raul’s warning about the vampire hierarchy is something I took to heart. I’ve been thinking about it ever since.
If the Queen is out there, amongst the mass—as I know she is—then I’m stronger than her. Does that undermine her rule? Does that make me easier to hate?
I sit upright as I feel a vampire approaching. The cabin door opens.
Morgan steps inside.
She’s dressed in an extravagant red gown. It flows around her body and hugs her shape. The rubies around her neck remind me of the ones used in the chalice during the ritual in the Crypts that transformed me.
For some reason, she’s carrying a staff. She grips it hard, putting most of her weight on it as she walks.
It's made of black ivory and comes up just past her shoulder. The top is carved into a menacing, snarling wolf's head. Above it is a fat ruby that looks like a demon's eye. Dark imperfections run across the surface, giving both it and the staff the impression of great age and power. At the opposite end is a speared tip with yet another, smaller, complementary jewel. The edges of that look sharp as a huntsman's axe.
What happened to her? I wonder.
Quietly, she closes the cabin door. The space inside immediately grows colder. She turns around and I gasp.
Her eyes are glowing.
An incandescent blue surrounds them. I have the faintest hint of a memory of that color. It was the same blue that exploded from out the witch’s cavern that I discovered as a little girl.
She steps toward me. For the briefest moment, her face looks tired and old. One more step, and the lines around her face disappear. She’s fresh and young again, and none of the fatigue shows.