"It's been raining all day, Mother."
"Eloise, don't tell me you're making an excuse not to show up at the soiree?"
The Queen of Availes looked at her daughter with disappointment, but at the same time, something unsettling tugged at her thoughts. A fleeting concern she had ignored earlier now pressed urgently against her mind.
Did Eloise not want to get married? Did she wish to remain a spinster all her life? Surely, it could not be. But why did she always make excuses to avoid functions where socializing was key?
"Eloise."
"Yes, Mother?" Eloise tilted her head up to look at the Queen, regal and radiant.
Oh heavens, how do I ask this without seeming like a bad mother?
The Queen took a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic storm of thoughts spiraling in her mind. Her hands clenched, then released. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, soothing her nerves before finally exhaling a long, controlled breath.
"Do you not want to get married?"
"I do," Eloise replied hesitantly, her voice unsure. "But Mother, if I may?"
Still seated, her head angled toward the couch where her mother sat, adorned in gold jewelry that graced her neck and wrists, legs crossed, posture majestic...
Eloise hesitated. The Queen's composure reeked of wealth, elegance, and a lifetime shaped by high society. Her hair, coiled into a crown of intricate pleats, was held by beautiful hairpins, the most notable being a jade-colored diamond brooch that whispered stories of ancient wealth.
Despite all this grandeur, her face twisted with clear displeasure. Yet she humored her daughter with a small nod.
"Of course, my darling daughter. You need no permission to speak to me. I may be the Queen, but I am your mother."
Taking this as her cue, Eloise lifted her gaze and began to speak, almost in a whisper.
"Mother... I... I do not wish to..."
She paused. Once the words left her lips, there would be no return. But what was there to fear? Her mother said she could speak freely.
"Out with it already, Elo. You're starting to worry me."
Clearing her throat and trying to calm her racing heart, she gathered the words in her mind and spoke.
"Mother, I was hoping you could speak to Father on my behalf. I do not wish to get married...
not yet.
And it's not what you think. I want to find myself, to do something—anything—that matters. Maybe travel. Maybe an adventure. When I return, I promise I will marry. But I want to choose. I want it to be out of love, not politics or duty. Please, Mother. This would make me truly happy."
"That's enough. I've had enough of your antics. I'll alert the maids and the seamstress to get you—"
"I do not wish to get MARRIED!" she blurted out, unable to hold it back any longer. She closed her eyes tightly , bracing herself for what was to come. And almost immediately....
"You—!"
The air suddenly turned hot and even hotter by the second, just like hell had unleashed it's fury!!
Queen Amasha's face contorted with fury. Her jaw tightened, and her lips pressed into a thin, unforgiving line. The hair on the nape of her neck rose like bristles. Her anger boiled to the surface. A feary dark furnace that was raging but still in control.
"I knew it!" she cried, her voice rising in a crescendo like an opera singer reaching her peak.
The scream echoed beyond the chamber walls. Maids who had been quietly tending to the marble floors and gleaming surfaces froze.
"What has gone wrong with the Queen?" Anna whispered to the others. She was Eloise's personal maid and had been asked to wait outside. But now, hearing the Queen scream, panic set in. Such behavior was unlike her.
The other maids quickly scrambled away to avoid her wrath.
No one wanted to be the scapegoat.
Inside the room, Eloise tried to pacify her mother.
"It's not what you think, Mother. Let me explain—"
"Hush now, Eloise Blakethornt. I don't want to hear one more word from you. Not a single word!"
She fumed. But quickly took in slow deep breaths to calm her self and regain her poise demeanor.
Once she had regained her emotions and stopped it from slipping into darkness. She suddenly craved blood. That was how angry she was
"Your father and I will find a suitable match for you. Prepare for the soiree and be on your best behavior."
And just like that, her voice...
her plea...
had been crushed under the weight of tradition and fear. Fear of her parents. Fear of high society. Fear that no matter the class, no one believed a woman should crave adventure.
"But Mother—"
"Silence! No more words," she snapped, her tone as sharp as shears slicing weeds.
Eloise could feel the chilling sensation on her skin it was colder than winter. And then hot tears rolled down her eyes because she felt helpless. They were royals. They had everything. But not their own free will. It was like being born into a a blessed curse. Her chest tightened and her knees slightly wobbled as though they would give away.
It hurts...
The Queen turned her back, ignoring the soft sniffles coming from her daughter. She exhaled, long and low. She told herself it was just a phase. That Eloise would understand in time. There was no room for chasing dreams or passions....at least not for a woman. Especially not a royal one.
Stepping into the corridor, she met Anna,
Eloise's maid.
"Make sure she gets dressed and gets ready for the soiree in an hour" she instructed in a harsh tone
Anna bowed deeply then said "yes queen mother" while her gaze still remained cast down to the floor as was required for the servants in the royal family.
However someone had an unlucky day.
Her own personal maid, Belinda, a woman in her forties,she look slightly older than the queen although the queen was a purblooded vampire and they were not short of beauty and always remained youthful in appearance.
She rushed forward with a cup of blood l tea.
As she prepared to hand it over the next words from the queen made her freeze with fear.
"Are you daft?" Queen Amasha snapped, her voice edged in irritation. "Of course peasants are daft."
"I'm sorry, my Queen," Belinda whispered, voice trembling.
"Who said you could speak?"
She snatched the cup, glancing at her maid with disdain. "You'll spend the night in the dungeon with no food for your incompetence. Handing me tea while I'm still standing? Do you know I could have you beheaded for such lack of tact?"
Belinda fell to her knees, forehead pressed to the cold marble. Shivers ran through her body, and her lips quivered.
The Queen stepped on her hand with the pointed heel of her shoe. Pressing. Hard. Belinda winced but did not scream, though pain radiated from the pressure and the growing scent of blood filled the air.
"You measly humans think you're worthy to breathe beside us. But you forget... we own the world you call yours."
She smiled—small and satisfied—then turned to a nearby guard.
"Take her to the dungeon , keep her until I say so. No food. No water."
"Yes, my Queen.