“What did you mean that you’d protect me if needed?” I ask Enya.
“Didn’t Derek or your father tell you about Queen Tatiana’s illness?”
“No, they were both pretty vague about it.”
Enya stops in front of a door at the end of the hallway and turns to me. “The queen suffers from a malady that has befallen all first-generation Bluebloods. She’s losing her mind, forgetting things, and becoming aggressive in the blink of an eye for no reason.”
“That sounds horrible. So… it’s not only her? I mean, if it’s all first-generation vampires, then does that mean the usurper king too?”
Enya nods. “It’s my understanding that it is so, although none of his people have confirmed it.”
“Does my father suspect it?”
“I’m not sure what your father knows. As I mentioned before, he hasn’t communicated with me in a long time, and I think you know why.” Her sharp eyes bore into mine.
“He wants me to ascend to the throne. Only I have no desire to wear the crown.”
Enya arches a brow. “Is that so? Well… his desire is moot anyway.”
“Why do you say that?”
She turns to the closed door, pulling a skeleton key from her pocket. “We can talk about that later. Let’s go in before it’s too late.”
The room Queen Tatiana occupies is shrouded in darkness; the only light is coming from the moon outside. She’s standing in front of the window with her back to the door and doesn’t turn to us when we enter the room.
“My queen. I’ve brought Sophie to see you per your request,” Enya announces.
“I know.” She turns slowly and smiles, showing a hint of her fangs.
I don’t remember a time when she smiled in my direction. I curtsy. “My queen. I hope you’ve been well.”
“I can’t say that I have been well in general, but tonight, I feel like myself. Come closer. I want to see you.”
I frown. What a strange thing to say. Vampires can see pretty well in the shadows. I look at Enya to make sure it’s safe to approach the queen. She nods.
With my heart stuck in my throat, I move closer but stop a few feet from my mother. She watches me with a benevolent smile that’s so at odds with my impression of her that I fear I’m staring at an impostor.
“Your hair is different,” she says.
I touch a strand of my blue-and-green hair. “Yes. I wanted something new.”
“Interesting color choice, but it suits you.”
“Thanks.” I shuffle from side to side, wringing my fingers, not knowing what to do.
“Has your father told you who you are?”
“Yes.”
“I thought he would. You must think it cruel that I gave you up and pretended you weren’t mine.”
“I… I don’t know how I feel about it yet. Why did you?”
She clasps her hands behind her back and begins to pace in front of me. “I didn’t think you’d survive if certain individuals knew you were my daughter. I hid my pregnancy.”
“Who would harm me? King Raphael and his followers?”
She stops walking abruptly and whips her face to mine. “No, not him. He’d never harm an innocent child.”
