Page 70 of Their Blood Queen

It’s one of the reasons we’ve bonded.

“Hello?” the girl suddenly asks, making me nearly lose my grip on the ceiling and crash down right on top of her.

Wouldn’t that be a sight?

Prized assassin. Startled into falling into a clump of claws onto a poor mortal girl.

She chews on her lip as if contemplating something, then drops to her knees and sets her torch next to the wall. It sizzles against the moisture of the underground tunnel. Ignoring it, she fumbles in her bag and pulls out a book.

It’s old.

And magicked. I tense as the scent of its ancient power drifts to my position on the ceiling.

This girl could be a means to trap spies, so I don’t reveal myself. Still, she’s an odd sentinel to put in the archives.

Or the halls to the archives, if I could find them.

She leaves the book on the ground and snatches up her torch, then backs up a few paces. Her shoulders sink as if she’s glad to be rid of the thing. “I know you’re here,” she whispers as she glances up. “I’ve lived in this palace all my life, creature. Long enough to know what you all smell like.” Her nostrils flare as if to make a point. “So you can keep hiding up there like a coward, or come down here so you can find what you’re looking for.”

Coward? I muse as my lips stretch into a wicked grin. My fangs throb at the challenge, but I won’t bite this interesting little mortal speck.

I do finally reveal myself, though. Curiosity might have gotten the better of me, but if I can’t handle a small mortal girl, then I deserve to have my life cut short.

Dropping to the ground, the girl flinches as I stretch to my full height while still donning my monster form. She’s an unknown, so I have no intention of relinquishing my armored skin, my fangs, or my claws.

Or my ability to walk in her dreams and see her truth, if I so desire.

Her torch is what keeps me from dreamwalking, though. The bright light makes her far too alert for me to gain a foothold in her mind.

I realize that is likely on purpose. She knows what she’s doing.

Smart girl.

“And what do you think I’m looking for?” I ask her.

I see that she’s not as young as I previously thought. She has a developed body, one that the Sanguinis line might abuse.

There’s not a single mark on her, though. Her nails are clean and her complexion is fair. There aren’t blisters or calluses on her fingers, betraying an easy life.

A slave would have worked in the fields. And if she had been used for her blood or her body, there would be evidence left behind.

I make a mental note to ask Sabre about untouched females in his palace, as it’s truly an oddity.

She indicates the book on the ground with a jerk of her chin. “Hell if I know. The book told me to bring it to you, so I did.”

My tongue flicks out to taste the air as I contemplate that strange statement. “A book told you to bring it sssomewhere,” I repeat, my s unintentionally slipping on my long tongue.

She leans onto her hip as if she’s growing impatient with me, but her fingers tremble with fear she’s obviously trying to hide. She’s holding it together pretty well, so I believe her when she claims she’s lived among the Strigoi all her life. “Yes. It’s not uncommon for powerful beings to have a piece of their soul manifested into a book. Books always hold magic, given that they are something created out of nothing. Books defy nature. Especially this one, as it was written by the first Sigil.”

My eyes blow wide as I digest a word I haven’t heard in a very long time.

“Sigils are a myth,” I say out of instinct, but the way the girl eyes me with defiance suggests that’s not true.

And the evidence is at my feet. A Sigil is a creature of unlimited power. Rumor has it that the Strigoi were formed by three Kings who shared a Queen they named their Sigil. With her endless power, the blood fields were created and the land didn’t even need living souls to function. The Sigil’s memory of them had been power enough, and high-quality blood flowed freely in rivers filled to the brim with vibrant dreams.

The entire kingdom thrived, and there was no need to hunt, no need to squabble over territory or resources.

There had only been peace—until the Sigil was gone.