Page 79 of The Vampire Court

She could be lying, or she could see keeping Clara safe as an opportunity to keep me under her thumb.

I shift back on my heels to create distance between us, but she holds on, moving with me. Elizabeth rises on her toes and presses her mouth to mine. To the world, it would appear to be a simple kiss—but it’s far more than that. Her fangs snag against my lip, drawing blood. Her power wends its way around me, invading my mind, tuned into my own.

The cuts on my cheek and neck.

And every other drop of blood she drew in every meeting. It was more than a threat, more than a failed seduction. She drew on my power, drop by drop, all so her demon could connect to Cherno and overpower them, seizing control.

Red sparks up and down my arms as I pushing against her, struggling to force her out, but she is stronger, resisting my efforts.

The room is cast in a soft red glow. No matter how hard I fight, I am pulled down by the undertow of her power. Waves of it crash around me, swallowing me up into its depths. Darkness constricts on my consciousness, leaving pinpricks of my own will.

Slowly, I relax my muscles. The less I fight, the less she pushes. I rein it in, slowly… carefully breaking our contact.

I keep my mind silent, void of thoughts, burying all emotions and anger into the dark recesses of my mind. I gaze at her face, imagining it to be anyone’s but hers.

She has won. Now, she must believe it.

I feel the words rising to my tongue like bile. They twist my gut. “If you want me, then I am yours, my queen.”

Elizabeth narrows her eyes. We remain perfectly still for a long moment. Tendrils of her power brush against mine. I pull mine back, allowing her all the room she desires. She untangles her fingers from around my neck and releases me. A slow, sinister smile creeps up on her lips.

Agreeing to obey her commands is not the worst I will have to endure. However temporary, I retain the majority of control over my mind and body, but this is only the first step in losing every last sliver of freedom.

“What of the girl?” She arches a single delicate brow.

“What girl?” I ask, completely void of emotion.

Elizabeth tsks. “We both know who I’m talking about.” She’s testing me. One wrong word could ruin everything. “What would you have me do with her? Kill—”

“What you do with her is of no consequence to me,” I say flatly. “Give her to Cassius. He is always begging for my scraps.”

She barks out a sharp laugh. “How delightfully spiteful.” She takes my hand in hers. “How I’ve missed this side.”

I don’t reply.

Elizabeth leads me deeper into her room for one final test. I follow, dreading spending any time with her. She drops my hand when we reach the center of the room and moves about as if I’m not even here.

She pushes the straps of her dress off her shoulder, letting the material pool around her feet.

The room has remained the same since I last stepped foot in here, down to every last detail. It is a room I’d hoped to never see again. A low fire burns in the hearth. Elizabeth slips a thin nightdress over her head before finally turning back to me. My blood chills in my veins from her expression.

“You may go,” she says, “but return before nightfall.”

I bow at the waist and say, “Yes, my queen.”

As I turn from her, I don’t dare to breathe until I’ve closed the bedroom doors and have left her rooms behind me.

Outside in the hall, I rake my fingers through my hair. I may have more power than any other court members, but it means nothing when she can still force her will over me without effort.

I mourn the freedom slipping through my fingers like sand. I am doing this because I cannot win against her and also for Clara.

Moving as fast as I can, I rush to my own rooms, wanting to put as much distance between me and the unpleasant future to come. I will pretend to be complicit, to be under her control, but my resistance will not last forever, and one day, she will control my every thought.

I have always known Elizabeth would get her way in the end. She always has. Though I’d hoped to grow tired of living before it came to this, I hoped to no longer have a reason to resist, but as long as Clara lives, I will fight.

I push open the doors to my room, unsurprised to find it cold and dark. The door shuts with a quiet click. The drapes are drawn, and no fire burns in the hearth. It’s dark and fits my mood.

“Alaric?” Clara’s voice is a ghost of a whisper.