Page 5 of Blood Sings (Beyond the Gloom #1)

Growing up without Father was tough.

I had fond memories of us playing hide-and-seek in the echoing halls of Corvin Palace. I’d dart away, hoping to outwit him, while he made it his mission to find me. Despite my best hiding spots, he always tracked me down. It wasn’t until years later that he shared his secret with me: the moonstone sugar from my Red Brownies was a dead giveaway every time.

Then the war came, taking him away and leaving Mother to manage our coven and the monarchy alone. She fought valiantly against the Wurdulaks, but their growing influence and cunning schemes had outmaneuvered her.

She had to give up the throne.

My throne.

Dracula had marked me as his next heir to inherit his magic instead of my older brother. The crown belonged to our coven, and though she yielded it to the Wurdulaks, it was my birthright to wear it once I came into my power.

All the rage she felt against the usurpers, she’d channeled into molding me into a capable ruler. I underwent intensive training in etiquette, dance, seduction, as well as politics, history, and the science of genetically modified hemoglobin and blood plants.

A queen could never be too prepared.

Sometimes, I wondered if life would’ve been simpler, maybe even happier, had Derzelas chosen to deposit me down the chimney of a modest, low-ranking family. Would I have been like that crowd, feeling safe and ignorant of the world we lived in?

A sudden thud, reminiscent of a heel clicking, brought me back to the present.

I turned my eyes on Petru, my brother, seated at the head of the long dining table, poring over a stack of reports. His duties as the Governor of the Crowned Republic of Transylvania always trailed after him like an eager pup.

At two-hundred-and-ten, he had a certain charm of people in power. We’d never been close. The gulf between our ages was too vast to bridge for a more affectionate relationship.

Unlike me, who bore a striking resemblance to Elena with her softer features—a gently upturned nose, heart-shaped lips, fuller cheeks, and an hourglass figure—he took after Father, inheriting his tall, lean frame. Dark hair framed his strong, angular face and cascaded past his shoulders. It was the type of face that would inspire you to follow him into battle. But few knew that beneath his amiable exterior lay a fierce determination, perhaps surpassing even our mother’s, to restore the Tepes name to its former glory, whatever the cost.

“You haven’t touched your dinner, Aurora,” Mother’s voice cut through the silence. Disapproval. Judgement.

Wearing a simple black dress that hugged her form, she looked every bit like an exiled queen on the five-thousand-acre family estate Father had built for us.

I lifted the silver cup and took a healthy sip of synthetic blood, humming in pleasure as the bouquet of flavors exploded in my mouth—bittersweet with hints of cantaloupe, orange, and a faint trace of honey.

My favorite.

Her rouged lips curved into a cryptic smile, then dropped as she exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Petru.

I maintained my mask of indifference, but internally, my heart rate ticked up, betraying my impatience. Whenever she smiled like that, trouble usually followed.

“Dear, your brother and I have decided it’s time for you to leave the army,”— ah, there it is— she said with genuine concern. “We fear Prince Lev will not appreciate you wasting your time with your halfblood pets .”

I suppressed a sigh, clutching my drink like a lifeline in a storm. Her persistent harping on the Wurdulak heir and my repeated refusal to marry him had tested my fortitude over the years. My military service was a thorn in her side, but what she deemed unsuitable for a queen, I found most fitting.

What better way to demonstrate my dedication to the citizens of our nation than by serving in its defense?

“I understand your point, Mother,” I replied, willing my pulse to remain steady. “But my loyalty lies with the Republic. I cannot shirk my duties simply because the prince desires it. I will not abandon my post.”

The corset cinched around my waist with merciless force, yet I found myself fond of the dress. Its color straddled the line between dusk and darkness, a reflection of the duality of my existence: between day and night, battles and ballrooms.

Mother narrowed her scarlet eyes. “Halfbloods fighting Stalkers shouldn’t be your concern, Aurora. You’re an original. Your undiluted blood draws from Dracula himself. Sure, your father, Derzelas rest his soul, was a soldier, but let others deal with the battle. We must focus on the future.”

I moved my lips for a retort, then smacked them together. Arguing with her felt futile, like shouting into the wind.

Good God. What was even going on inside her head? Did she think I would just ignore the war and pretend the Stalkers weren’t a threat anymore?

Petru rarely intervened in our disagreements, so when he spoke up, I couldn’t help but arch my brows. “In fifty years, our Creators will awaken. They’ll send the hybrids to their graves and put an end to this war. Nothing can stand up to their blood magic, sister.”

A glimmer of hope sparked within me, shadowed by a persistent question, almost like an itch. How many more lives had to die before that day finally came?

“However,” he continued, “we can no longer ignore the growing civilian demand for a shift in priorities—a cut in the exorbitant war budget for vital welfare and public works. In response, the government has decided to reduce military spending gradually and discharge thirty percent of the outliers.”

“But weakening their ranks would jeopardize our defense,” I blurted. Not to mention endanger their lives. Mother was already too worked up for it to be worth mentioning, so I kept my mouth shut. “We’ve already filled their properties, and the Seventh Ward is at full capacity. Where will they go?”

“Solutions exist. For now, our focus is to hold the line,” he muttered, returning to his documents.

He was the Governor, damn it. Didn’t he see how catastrophic this decision was?

My stomach hollowed, and the sensation of falling had me locking my knees together. I drew strength from the tightness of the corset encasing me, keeping my form from withering under his words.

Whether Dracula’s Blood Aura, which I’d inherit after my birthday, would be enough to compensate for the reduction in ranks, I had no idea. Lev had already absorbed Lucian’s power. Our best shot was to work together and slow the Stalkers down, but pigs would fly before he agreed to help the outliers—even if it meant ensuring our survival.

He was too proud to see beneath his nose.

“The more reason for me to keep protecting the motherland,” I retorted. “Projectors need to stand united and hold the front lines until the end. And Mother,” I directed my words at her, “please, enough with the name-calling. They are citizens of the Republic too, and deserve respect—they’ve earned it.”

“Respect?” she hissed. “For those blood-tainted aberrations? When will you learn, child? You treat animals like animals. Those savages will never understand us. They will never be civilized like us. We must confine them to their cages and control their lives.”

My grip on the goblet tightened, and the metal bent inwards, spilling blood onto the table. “Do you hear yourself? If it weren’t for them, Russkaya would have knocked at our doors long ago!”

Elena sneered, settling her gaze on my brother. The hatred emanating from her was so clear it tasted like bile on my tongue. “What is the government thinking, allowing these savages to return to Republic soil?”

“It’s a right they should never have lost,” I countered. “We cannot exploit their strengths when convenient, only to discard them when it suits us. True strength lies in unity, not manipulation.”

“No, my dear.” She waved a dismissive hand. “You’re missing the bigger picture. The Wurdulaks are the ruling royals now. We need their alliance before the Hansens take advantage. Don’t let sentimentality cloud your judgment.”

Lifting my gaze to the arched ceiling, I silently begged the heavens for patience. Sabazios was a merciful god. Surely, he would accept my prayer for restraint.

“Equality is more than sentiment. It’s a basic right. And there are other ways to secure the alliance than me marrying Lev.” I slumped back in my chair. “Once I master the Blood Aura, we won’t need them. Dracula’s magic is more potent than his brothers’. I’ll make them give my crown back.”

“You mean well, dear,” she said, cynical yet proud. “But you have much to learn about ruling. The Hansens have always lusted for power. If they marry Anastasia to the prince, not even the Blood Aura could win against the magic of Lucian and Marcus. Don’t underestimate them. Because they will fight you for the throne. And if you keep up these childish and misguided loyalties, you will lose.”

“Anastasia is hardly ready for marriage,” I scoffed. The princess had at least eighty more years to grow into her power. She studied psychology, not how to rule over the Republic. “Your concern is unnecessary. The worst that could happen is the Wurdulaks surrendering the monarchy when Dracula awakens.”

“If only your father were alive…” she lamented, splaying her fingers over her chest. “If only Russkaya’s monsters hadn’t taken him from us.”

And we are back to square one.

“To imagine those halfbloods inside our borders again… How far must their corrupted blood taint our Republic’s principles? Aurora, you must sever any ties with those filths!”

Derzelas, give me strength. Would I be a terrible daughter if I strangled her?

I couldn’t take it anymore. Tonight… had officially caught up to me. “If anything soils those ideals, Mother, it’s you,” I snapped.

Her neck stiffened. “I beg your pardon?”

I lowered my eyes to my lap, remorse eating at my anger. She had raised me better than this.

Petru stayed quiet, his face betraying nothing. I knew not to expect his support. He always let Elena have the last word.

“Your father took pity on those savages, and now you’re taking after him. Is that it?” she asked.

Trust Mother to drive the blade straight into my heart. Father’s resistance to the Total Rendition was a defining part of my childhood—his courage, his sacrifice.

But I didn’t want to follow in his footsteps. Even if I did, times had changed, and the outliers resented us more than ever.

“It’s not about pity,” I said. “It’s about doing what’s right. Protecting all people of the Republic, just as he taught me.”

And figuring out why a varcolac saved my life instead of leaving me to face my father’s killer alone.

But I kept that to myself.

Mother’s gaze assessed me before she sighed—a dramatic, long-suffering sound that pressed around my throat like a vice. I needed to get away from her.

Pushing my chair back, I dabbed my mouth with a cotton napkin. “Thank you for dinner, Mother. Brother, I will see you next week,” I dismissed myself, rising to leave.