Free Web NovelTwo weeks passed and Matt didn't wake up.
The queen barely left her room. And nobody — absolutely nobody — was given permission to enter.
The door to the royal chamber was guarded by four vampires from Elyra's personal guard.
They weren't ordinary guards. They were the ones who answered directly to the queen and to her alone.
And the order they'd received was simple.
Nobody enters.
Nobody.
No exceptions.
The first week, the corridors around the chamber emptied.
The servants who normally cleaned that section of the palace were reassigned to other areas.
The regular guards who patrolled the royal wing received new routes that avoided the corridor where the door stood entirely.
Silence settled into that part of the palace.
And the rumors began.
The servants talked among themselves in the kitchens, in the basements, in the corners where they believed no one was listening.
"The daughter hasn't moved since she arrived."
"They say the queen hasn't let go of her even once."
"How long has she been asleep?"
"Two weeks."
"That's not normal."
"No."
"Do you think she's dead?"
Silence.
"I don't know."
That was the problem.
Nobody knew.
And what nobody knew, everyone imagined.
A wounded vampire regenerated in hours.
A gravely wounded vampire, in days.
A vampire at the edge of death, with the queen's blood flowing directly into her body, should recover in a week at most.
Two weeks was too long.
Two weeks meant something was wrong.
Two weeks meant the queen's daughter was so damaged that not even the most powerful blood in the kingdom could repair her.
Or it meant she was already dead and the queen didn't want to accept it.
The rumors grew.
They spread from servants to guards. From guards to lesser nobles. From lesser nobles to the six houses.
"That daughter is dead."
"The queen is keeping her going with her blood, but the body isn't responding anymore."
"It's only a matter of time before she announces it."
"What if she doesn't announce it?"
"Then the houses will have to act."
Nobody acted.
Not yet.
But the tension was there.
In every conversation.
And then, at the end of the second week, three servants made a mistake.
The three of them worked in the east wing kitchens. Two women and a man. They'd spent days listening to the rumors about the queen's daughter and the closed door and the nameless guards.
And one night, when the shifts changed and the corridors were momentarily empty, the three of them decided to get closer.
They weren't going to go in.
They just wanted to see.
They just wanted to pass through the corridor, catch a glimpse of the door, maybe hear something from the other side.
Something that would confirm or deny the rumors.
Something they could report back to the kitchens.
They didn't reach the corridor.
The guards detected them before they turned the corner.
There was no warning.
No shout.
No sound.
The three servants simply ceased to exist.
Their bodies were found the following morning by the cleaning crew, or what remained of them.
The guards had not been delicate. They had no reason to be. The order was clear and the order did not include exceptions for curious servants.
News of the deaths reached the six houses before midday.
And the queen found out an hour later.
◇◆◇
The Chamber of the Council of Houses was a circular space, wide, with a high ceiling held up by columns of black stone.
In the center stood a round table with seven chairs. One for each matriarch. And at the far end, elevated on a three-step platform, the queen's throne.
The six matriarchs were seated when Elyra Nivea entered.
One moment the door was closed. The next, the queen was standing before the throne, looking down at the six women seated around the table.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The queen didn't sit on the throne. She stood, hands at her sides, red eyes moving across each face at the table, one by one.
Kassandra Ardent held her gaze, her back straight in the posture of someone who didn't intimidate easily.
Cordelia Grisel maintained a neutral expression. Hands folded on the table. Grey eyes fixed on the queen without blinking.
Selene Azura tilted her head slightly to one side.
Morrigan Noctra didn't look at her — her eyes were closed and her head rested against the back of her chair. She appeared to be asleep, but nobody in that room was foolish enough to believe that Morrigan Noctra slept through a Council meeting.
Ophelia Lucent was smiling. A soft, polished smile, perfectly calibrated to appear neither threatening nor submissive.
Medea Verdant had her hands on the table, fingers laced together.
The queen spoke.
"Three servants attempted to spy on my daughter's chamber. My guards eliminated them."
A pause.
"That should not have happened."
Kassandra Ardent was the first to respond.
"The palace servants don't answer to our houses, Your Majesty. They are crown staff."
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"I know."
"Then the security failure is internal."
"I know."
Kassandra frowned.
"You summoned us to inform us of an internal palace problem?"
The queen looked at her.
Kassandra didn't look away, but her jaw tightened slightly.
"No," said the queen. "I summoned you because I know those servants didn't act alone."
Silence.
"Three kitchen servants don't decide on their own to walk to the royal wing in the middle of the night and spy on my daughter's chamber."
The queen swept her gaze across the table again.
"And whoever arranged it is sitting in this room."
Nobody spoke.
Ophelia Lucent stopped smiling.
Medea Verdant unclasped her interlaced fingers and laid them flat on the table.
Morrigan Noctra opened one eye.
The queen continued.
"I don't care who it was. I don't care why they did it. I don't care about their reasons or their plans or their ambitions."
The queen took a step forward and the pressure increased. All six matriarchs felt it in their chests, in their lungs, in their blood.
"What I care about is that you understand something."
The queen raised her right hand.
One finger. Pointed at the table.
"If anything like this happens again, I will kill each of your successors."
The words fell over the room.
Kassandra Ardent leaned forward.
"Your Majesty—"
"I haven't finished."
Kassandra closed her mouth.
"I know what you've been doing," said the queen. "I know about the meetings. I know about the clause. I know about the documents Cordelia prepared. I know about the laboratories Ophelia offered Selene. I know about the messages you sent your daughters when my daughter came out of the cave."
A pause.
"I know everything."
Cordelia Grisel spoke for the first time, in a cool tone.
"The succession clause is a legal right of the Council, Your Majesty. Reviewing it does not constitute a conspiracy."
"I didn't say it was a conspiracy, Cordelia. I said I know about it."
Cordelia didn't respond.
"And I want you to know that I don't care."
The queen lowered her hand.
"You can review every clause you want. You can prepare every document you want. You can meet in secret as many times as you want."
Her voice didn't change in tone. It stayed soft. Low. Almost pleasant.
"But if you touch my daughter, I will kill all of you."
Silence.
Selene Azura broke the silence.
Her voice came out with the same calm as always. Unhurried. Unruffled. As though she were asking a question in an academic seminar rather than a room where the queen had just threatened their daughters' lives.
"Your Majesty, if I may ask a question."
The queen looked at her.
Selene didn't wait for permission.
"Is it true that your daughter has ties to a human family? And that that family is still alive?"
The silence that followed was different from the one before.
The other five matriarchs turned their heads toward Selene.
Kassandra looked at her with an expression that clearly said, what are you doing?
Cordelia narrowed her eyes.
Ophelia stopped breathing for a second.
Morrigan opened both eyes.
Medea didn't move, but her fingers tensed on the table.
The queen looked at Selene.
She said nothing.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then she moved her hand.
It was fast.
So fast that none of the matriarchs saw the full movement.
They only saw the beginning — the queen's hand rising — and the end: a drop of dark blood flying through the room at a speed that made the air whistle.
The drop was aimed directly at Selene's face.
Selene moved.
Her body leaned to the right. The chair toppled. The drop passed centimeters from her left cheek and slammed into the column behind her.
The column cracked.
A long, deep fracture that climbed from the point of impact up to the ceiling. Chunks of black stone fell to the floor with heavy thuds.
Selene was standing, the overturned chair at her feet and her blue hair fallen across her face.
Her expression hadn't changed. Still calm. Still interested. But her eyes were opened slightly wider than before.
The queen spoke.
"The next one won't miss."
Selene didn't move.
"Stop saying groundless nonsense, Selene."
Selene looked at her a moment longer. Then she inclined her head.
"My apologies, Your Majesty."
She crouched, lifted the chair, and sat back down. Calmly and without hurrying. As though she hadn't just dodged something that would have passed through her skull.
The queen waited for Selene to settle.
Then she spoke again.
"There is something I am going to do."
The six matriarchs looked at her.
"When my daughter wakes, your successors will come to live in this castle."
Silence.
Kassandra frowned.
"Live in the castle?"
"Yes."
"To what end?"
"They will serve my daughter."
Kassandra frowned deeper.
"Serve?"
"Yes, Kassandra. Serve. Accompany her. Attend to her. Be available for whatever she needs."
Cordelia spoke.
"Your Majesty, the successors of the noble houses are not servants. They have responsibilities to their own families. Requiring them to reside in the palace as companions to the princess would be—"
"I am not asking for opinions."
Cordelia closed her mouth.
"I am giving an order."
The queen swept the table one final time.
"When my daughter wakes, I want all six here. Settled. Ready. No excuses."
Nobody said anything.
Ophelia Lucent was the first to nod. A gentle tilt of the head, almost imperceptible, accompanied by the smile that returned to her lips.
Medea Verdant nodded after. No smile, no expression. Just a movement of the head.
Selene Azura nodded. Her eyes gleamed with something that wasn't fear.
Morrigan Noctra closed her eyes again. She didn't nod. She didn't speak. But she didn't object either.
Cordelia Grisel pressed her lips together and nodded once.
Kassandra Ardent was last. She looked at the queen for several seconds. Then she exhaled through her nose and nodded with one short movement.
"Good," said the queen, and turned to walk toward the door, and left.
◇◆◇
The corridor leading to the queen's chamber was empty.
Empty except for one person.
Iris was standing in front of the door. Not leaning against the wall. Not sitting on the floor. Standing. Straight. With Eleonora in sword form held between her arms, pressed against her chest.
She'd been there for a while.
She didn't know exactly how long. She'd lost count after the first hour.
But she hadn't moved.
She hadn't touched the door.
She hadn't tried to go in.
She was just there, standing, looking at the dark wood of the closed door.
Waiting.
The queen's footsteps sounded at the end of the corridor.
Iris recognized them before she saw her. They were soft steps. Slow. The kind of steps that made no sound unless the person wanted them to.
And the queen wanted Iris to know she was coming.
Iris straightened a little more.
The queen appeared around the corner.
She stopped a few meters from Iris.
She looked at her.
Iris looked at her.
"What are you doing here?"
The queen's voice wasn't hostile. It wasn't warm either. It was neutral. The tone of someone asking a question whose answer they already know.
Iris swallowed.
"I wanted to ask permission to see Matt, Your Majesty."
The queen didn't respond immediately.
Iris continued.
"Eleonora wants to see him too."
The sword between her arms vibrated once. Barely perceptible. But the queen noticed. Her eyes dropped toward the weapon for an instant before returning to Iris's face.
"No one may enter until he wakes."
"I know, Your Majesty. But it's been more than two weeks and—"
"No one may enter until he wakes, Iris."
Iris closed her mouth.
The queen watched her.
Iris tried to hold herself together. She really tried. But the question that had been eating at her mind for two weeks came out before she could stop it.
"Why won't he wake up?"
Her voice trembled slightly at the end.
Only slightly.
But enough for the queen to notice.
"Your Majesty… why won't he wake up? It's been two weeks already. With your blood, he should have recovered in days. What happened to him in that cave? How serious is it? Why won't he—?"
"Iris."
Iris stopped.
The queen took a step toward her.
"Your sister just needs time."
Iris looked at her.
"Her body is responding. Her blood is circulating. She has no wounds."
"Then why—"
"Because she was inside that cave for almost three years."
Iris said nothing.
"Three years, Iris. Without real food. Probably without proper rest. No contact with anyone. Her body endured all of that because she is strong. Stronger than anyone expected. But now that she's outside — now that she's safe — her body is doing what it couldn't do for three years."
The queen paused.
"She's resting."
Iris processed the words.
"She's just… resting?"
"Yes."
"And she's going to wake up?"
"She's going to wake up."
"When?"
"When her body decides it's rested enough."
Iris looked down at Eleonora.
The sword was still between her arms, without vibrations, but Iris could feel the anxiety radiating from inside the weapon.
Eleonora wanted to go into that room.
She wanted to see Matt.
She wanted to confirm with her own eyes that he was alive, that he was breathing, that he was coming back.
Iris raised her gaze.
"I understand, Your Majesty."
The queen nodded.
"In the meantime, I need you to handle the affairs of the throne."
Iris blinked.
"The affairs of the throne?"
"The audiences. The reports. The petitions from the lesser houses. Everything that normally passes through my desk. I need you to manage it until your sister wakes."
Iris opened her mouth to say something.
Closed it. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm
Opened it again.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The queen looked at her a moment longer. Then she nodded once and moved past her toward the door.
Iris stepped aside.
The queen stopped in front of the door. She put her hand on the wood. The guards on either side didn't move. Didn't look at her. Didn't breathe harder. They simply existed there, motionless, like extensions of the wall.
Iris spoke one last time.
"Your Majesty."
The queen didn't turn her head.
"When he wakes… may I be the first to see him?"
The queen didn't answer — she only opened the door and went inside.
The door closed behind her.
Iris stood in the corridor, looking at the dark wood, with Eleonora pressed against her chest, and exhaled.
Then she turned and walked toward the other end of the corridor.
◇◆◇
The room was dark.
The curtains were still closed. The only light came from the gaps between the fabric — thin lines of grey light drawing stripes across the floor.
The queen closed the door behind her and walked to the bed.
Matt was there, in the same position as before. Lying on his back, eyes closed. Breathing slow and deep. His chest rising and falling with a steady rhythm that hadn't changed in two weeks.
The two guns were on the nightstand beside the bed. The queen had taken them from Matt's hands a few days ago, when she realized he wasn't going to let go of them on his own.
She'd had to open his fingers one by one, carefully, so as not to wake him. Though by that point she already knew nothing was going to wake him.
The queen sat on the edge of the bed and studied Matt's face. Then she reached out and touched his forehead.
The skin was warm. Warmer than before. The blood was doing its work. Each drop that entered his body repaired something. Damaged muscle. Weakened bone. Exhausted tissue.
Everything was being rebuilt, slowly, layer by layer.
The queen checked his breathing. She counted the inhales. Measured the time between each one. Listened to the sound of air entering and leaving his lungs.
Everything normal.
Everything stable.
The queen raised her right hand and brought her thumb to her mouth to bite down.
The skin broke with a soft crack and the blood rose immediately.
The queen settled herself on the bed. She leaned back against the headboard, and with her left hand she lifted Matt's head and rested it against her shoulder. With her right, she brought her bleeding thumb to his lips.
The blood touched his lips and Matt swallowed. His body recognized that blood and accepted it — absorbed it.
The queen watched him swallow and began to stroke his hair with her left hand.
Her fingers passing through the white strands, separating them, tucking them behind his ear, tracing them from root to tip.
The queen said nothing.
She didn't need to say anything.
She simply stayed there, in the darkness of the room, with her daughter asleep in her arms, feeding her with her blood while she stroked her hair.
"You're so beautiful…"
