‘Drinking only a little from the guards and erasing their memories. It may be difficult for you since you are a new vampire, but if you can learn to do it, the risk of being discovered will be much less.’
This is the first I have heard of such a power. ‘Can you teach me how?’
Darius nods. ‘Yes. But first, let me bury this guard. I will be back in two hours.’
Drag. Grunt. Drag.
***
Over the next few weeks, undead life at court improves markedly. I learn how to memory-wipe my victims, which Darius assures me is an ability that all vampires have, but not many know how to use. This means I am not as dependent on Darius for blood, leaving him free to enjoy morefulfilling encounterswith pretty whores in the nearby taverns.
For his part, he spreads the word quietly amongst the guards that the queen is assuaging her nightmares by bedding whomever happens to be stationed near her chamber door at the time. But it is a tightly kept secret; and if she finds anyone speaking of it, she will have them hung,drawn, and quartered. This threat does not seem to greatly dissuade anyone, for whenever I poke my head out, there is always a man with a stiff rod ready and waiting at my door.
Of course, the guards have no recollection of what takes place when they enter my chamber. They are pushed out the door a few hours later and wake the next morning with a nagging pain in their necks and a sense of having had their cock worked hard by the queen beneath the sheets. It is a delicious scheme and one that Darius fully approves of.
Oftentimes, if he cannot be bothered to seek a tavern whore, he will join me, compelling the naked victim to keep still and silent while we gulp thirstily at their neck, wrists, or thighs. Darius also does not mind if I copulate with them after our blood feasting and quite happily watches, stroking his member. He has no particular interest in male genitalia, apart from his own. Or so I think.
***
‘Be ready for a knock on your door at midnight,’ Darius tells me one frosty evening when we’ve ventured into the gardens at dusk. I stretch out my fingers to a lone red rose, still holding fast to its stem. One velvety petal floats to the frozen ground. Then another. I remove my hand, wanting it to last as long as possible.
I turn my attention to Darius. ‘Why? Who will knock?’
‘There is a visiting knight eager to meet the queen,’ he says in a low voice. ‘I told him of her willingness toentertain,and he wishes to be of service.’
‘Who is he?’
‘Sir Cyril of Cumbria. Most handsome. Perhaps the fairest fellow I have ever seen.’
My ears prick up at that, and so do my loins. Apart from the burly blond guard of the first night and Darius himself, the men coming to the queen’s chamber have not been particularly easy on the eye.
‘I shall look forward to making his acquaintance then,’ I reply nonchalantly.
Darius grins and holds out his arm to lead me back into the palace. ‘Expect me to join you,’ he says softly. ‘This is one encounter I wish to befullyinvolved in.’
I don’t know quite what he means by that, but as midnight draws near, my anticipation mounts. I pace the chamber, yellow light from a single candle flickering and ghostly shadows dancing on the wall.
At last, there is a soft tap, and I call out ‘Come!’ in a haughty voice. A tall slender young man steps into the room, and I beckon him closer with a flick of my hand. He steps forward, and a tingle of excitement runs through me. Darius has been astute in his judgement. The knight is extremely handsome with a thick mop of dark-brown hair that falls in soft waves down to his white ruff, intelligentbrown eyes, and a trimmed goatee.
‘Good evening, Sir Cyril of Cumbria,’ I say, attempting to emulate the queen’s husky tones. She always sounds like she’s been inhaling woodsmoke.
‘Your Majesty.’ Sir Cyril bows low as yet not realising he is being deceived. While his head is tilted forward, I swish over in my satin gown and place a hand on his head, feeling his silky strands. The warmth of his skull is pleasing to my cold fingers.
‘You may rise.’
Keeping my own head inclined, I proffer my hand for him to kiss, which he does ardently. His lips are soft, imprinting my chill flesh, once, twice, thrice. He has a delicate touch, and I shiver, imagining how it will feel when he kisses my naked body.
‘It is so dark in here, Your Majesty,’ Sir Cyril whispers, angling his head to catch a better glimpse of me. ‘Should we light another few candles or—’
Darius steps out from behind the bedpost, where he has been hiding.
‘That will not be necessary.’ He looks the knight over, the tips of his fangs skimming his bottom lip.
Sir Cyril frowns. ‘Sir Darius, I did not expect you to be joining us.’
Darius chuckles. ‘There is much about this evening to be surprised by. Indeed, even the queenherself.’
The knight moves closer, peering at me. ‘What is this trickery? Where is the real queen?’
