Roxanne’s plan had been plain and simple, though it required a dozen skilled vampires willing to risk their lives for a royal princess that they had mostly disliked purely for her upbringing: which certainly had complicated the situation and delayed our rescue.
Their deaths would forever be the shadows of my consciousness.
Now I wondered if I’d made a mistake listening to my sister that night.
Perhaps if I’d gone alone I could have saved Cordelia and brought her family home. Perhaps I would have been lucky enough to save her sister before the tragedy occurred. Or perhaps Roxanne had saved my life that day.
My head hit the pillow on the cold marble floor; my eyes studied the ceiling as I battled against the exhaustion slowly winning over my strong will.
The black widow worked along its web on the ceiling, and I watched the creature as my eyelids heavied—
“Where is Cordelia?” Florence’s voice brought me out of my swift slumber. “Wake up!” She shook my shoulders with strength I had not expected from her. “Cordelia is gone.”
I rubbed my eyes, willing myself awake. How long had I slept—
“What do you meangone?” My voice cracked as I rushed to my feet, pushing through the threshold of Cordelia’s room. Myeyes scanned the painfully empty space until they landed on a wide open window. “Gods damned me.”
Chapter 2. This Must End Now.
Cordelia.
The sunlight played on her golden locks as my fingers worked through her long, soft braid. She asked me to arrange her hair into a crown like all the women in the court did. “You are so beautiful.” I smiled at her reflection in the mirror.
“So are you.” Sandra smiled back, her gaze traveling to the window. “Where are they going?” The crease between her brows deepened.
I followed her gaze until my eyes landed on our brother, Brian, and his friend, Gabriel—proudly walking by his side—before they disappeared behind the gates of the palace’s citadel.
“Somewhere they will find trouble.” I rolled my eyes, pinning the braid the way Sandra wished. “All done!” My fingers adjusted a few stray strands before handing her a smaller mirror.
“Thank you, Lia, I love it!” Sandra studied the hairstyle: her smile grew bigger. “Your hands are magic!” She beamed.
“It wasn’t hard, Sunshine.” I shrugged before placing a small kiss on the top of her head, the familiar aroma hitting my nostrils—
“Spare me, Cordelia,” my sister cried, reaching for my—covered in blood—hands. “Please—” she croaked: my crimson fingers coiled around her throat.
The room darkened. The sunshine disappeared as though it was never there. My gaze met Sandra’s: tears filled her eyes, her skin paled.
“I must kill you!” My voice did not belong to me. “I cannot.” The tears streamed down my face. “You must die!”
“You are like her!” Sandra screeched; her body went limp underneath mine. “You are just like her,” she whispered and her eyes closed.
She died and I could not remember why it mattered.
I stared at her fair skin—that was now a shade darker than her usual color—her golden locks that were now raven-black, and a scar right below her collarbone that painted her skin light pink.
