Page 135 of Treasured

I had no time to chase humans now, though—at least, not that one. A smile stretched across my face, and I crumpled the paper. Finally, revenge would be mine.

I glanced at the clock. Nicolas had evaded me for five months, fifteen days, and nine hours. His death would last at least that long. By the time I was done with the human I’d once loved, the Blood Ruby would be overflowing with power. Before he died, Nicolas would regret the day he forgot whose bed he’d joined.

I was the Vampire Queen, Ruler of the Shadows, and Mistress of the Night.

No one crossed me.

I threw the paper in the bin, crossed to the wardrobe, and took out my finest gown. Made of the blackest velvet, the dress draped over my body and highlighted my curves. My hair fell in waves over one shoulder, and the ruby scintillated.

I was ready.

Drawing on my shadows, I closed my eyes and moved through the Void to the location mentioned on the note.

The journey was short. The shadows lifted, leaving me in the middle of a cobblestone square. A few hours ago, this had been a prosperous human village bordering the Black Sea.

Now, it was a battleground. A graveyard. A reminder that rebellion was never, ever, a good idea.

I inhaled, filling my nostrils with the aromas of sweat, snow, unwashed bodies, and blood. The horrible perfume permeated the air.

Everywhere I looked, bodies were strewn on the reddened snow. They wore scraps of clothing, their necks mangled messes as they lay in pools of their own blood.

I sneered at them. What else did the rebels expect to happen when they began their so-called Freedom Revolution? This was the end they deserved.

Several vampires milled about, checking the humans for signs of life—and killing them instantly if they were still living. The moment the vampires saw me, they dipped their heads. Their reverence was appreciated, but I was not here for them. Ignoring them, I eyed the obsidian sheen of Ithiar’s temple in the distance.

My destination. My heart raced in my chest, eager for revenge, but I took my time. I did not shadow over or run like some Fledgling, unable to control myself.

Instead, I meandered through the courtyard, carefully stepping over each body as I savored the death around me. With each step, I ensured my vampires saw exactly what I wanted them to—a queen who was far greater than they could ever hope to be.

Still, I smiled when I approached Ithiar’s statue, guarding his temple. The god of blood was a vampire, of course. His muscular, sculpted body stood before his temple, giving all his worshipers a view of his perfection. In Ithenmyr, they worshiped Ithiar as the god of war, but they did not know him as we did. He encouraged war, yes, but only because it led to bloodshed.

It all came down to blood.

Ithiar and I understood each other. He enjoyed the shedding of blood, and I enjoyed the power that came from it. He was always my favorite of the two deities vampires worshiped.

I glided up the stairs, sending my shadows ahead of me.

The doors flung open, slamming into the temple walls with a boom. I strode through the opening. The moment I was inside the temple, my shadows released the doors. They banged shut behind me.

A muffled cry rose, destroying the silence of the temple.

One solitary violet orb hung in the middle of the space, casting its dim light on the inside of the room. There were no windows here, no doors, no other illumination.

Ithiar did not require light. He was a god of the night through and through. Blood was shed in the night; lives were stolen in the night; vampires lived by the night.

Unlike some weaklings who mourned the lack of sunlight after they were Made, I did not miss it. Those yellowed rays dictated mortals’ lives, but true power came alive in the shadows.

Beneath the purple light were three people. Two humans, as naked as the day they were born, were kneeling on the marble floor. Shadow gags muffled their cries. Their hands were bound behind their backs. A grinning vampire stood to one side, nearly cloaked in darkness.

Jean-Martin stood tall behind the humans, beaming as he dipped his head in my direction. He was wingless, but shadows flitted around him, marking him with Isvana’s blessing.

I strode towards the three of them. “Good work,” I said to Jean-Martin.

The vampire nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty. The moment we discovered the rebels’ nest and found these two… together, I knew you’d want to see them.”

Together.

Nicolas was… sleeping with her? He’d left my bed only to join that of a human whore? Was this the reason he left me?