They Banished Their True Queen

The next morning, I received news of Joseph’s next move against me.

I was to be placed under house arrest for a month, with guards watching my every move. And I was to hand over all my ally contacts and their corresponding signets to Julia.

I walked to Julia’s new room. The door was ajar, and I could hear her giggling inside.

I pushed it open to find the room completely transformed. My tasteful oil paintings and lace had been replaced with vulgar velvet and gaudy gold trinkets.

Julia herself was half-dressed, straddling Joseph’s lap. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, their faces intimately close.

It seemed I had interrupted something.

The moment he saw me, Joseph froze.

He reflexively pushed Julia off him and hastily straightened his disheveled shirt.

A flash of panic crossed his face as he took a step forward. "Elizabeth, we were just—"

"I'm here to hand over the signets," I cut him off, my voice cold.

No hysterical tears, no humiliating questions. I was as calm as if I were looking at two strangers.

Joseph stopped in his tracks. He studied my face, as if searching for any sign that I cared.

There was none.

His expression darkened. He spun around, grabbed Julia by the waist, and right there, in front of me, crushed his lips against hers.

Julia let out a theatrical moan, shooting me a triumphant, provocative glance as she clung to his neck.

I stood there, silently watching their pathetic performance.

"Finished?" I asked, dropping the heavy file of ally dossiers onto the table with a loud thud. "Here are all the signets. Sign for them."

Julia pushed Joseph away, smugly adjusting her clothes.

"I need to know the specific preferences of Prince Archon of the High Council," she said in a commanding tone. "The Earl is about to sign a treaty with him. This is crucial for the future of the Nightwood Clan. There can be no mistakes."

"Prince Archon is eccentric, but there is one thing he can't refuse," I said, looking her straight in the eye. "He has an extreme preference for a rare blood found only in the arctic tundra. Conveniently, I have three vials left in my private vault."

Julia's eyes lit up.

"Then give me the key to your vault now!" she demanded, holding out her hand.

Her demand was exactly what I wanted. I handed over the key without hesitation.

A faint smile played on my lips. "Take it. I hope it helps you win the Prince's favor."

Julia clutched the key as if it were a ticket into the highest echelons of vampire society.

She had no idea the key was worthless.

Prince Archon was my great-grand-uncle.

Without my permission, that key was just a useless piece of metal.

The handover complete, I turned and left.

Fifteen minutes later, I dissolved into a black mist and reappeared silently at the underground entrance to my private vault.

"Your Highness," the guard captain, Robert, materialized from the shadows and knelt on one knee.

"Full alert, effective immediately," I commanded, my voice like ice. "No one is to enter this vault using my key or my name. If Julia, Joseph, or any of their people try to force their way in, activate the kill-wards. Leave no survivors."

"As you command, Your Highness," Robert replied, a bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes.

That evening, the castle's grand hall was ablaze with light.

I stood in the dark corridor of the second floor, looking down.

Joseph and Julia, dressed in their finest, were about to leave.

Joseph wore a lavish velvet suit, paid for with spoils from battles I had won. Julia was draped in an extravagant white fox fur, like a common crow trying to flaunt peacock feathers.

"Oh, Elizabeth," Julia called out, looking up and spotting me. She raised her voice so every servant in the hall could hear. "We're off to a high-society gala. It’s such a shame you’re a disgrace now. You'll never set foot in a place like this again."

She clung to Joseph's arm, laughing, the pigeon's blood ruby necklace flashing under the crystal chandeliers.

I turned my gaze to Joseph.

He was calmly adjusting his cufflinks.

He never once looked up at me, giving his silent approval as his new paramour hurled cheap insults.

Finally, he spoke, his voice dismissive. "That's enough, Julia. It's time to go."

I watched them leave together. Then, I returned to my cramped guest room and retrieved a yellowed portrait from a hidden compartment.

It was a sketch he had drawn of me, blushing, a hundred years ago.

Expressionless, I tossed it into the roaring fireplace.

I watched the flames turn the portrait to ash. The fire didn't just burn the paper; it burned away the fool I used to be, the girl who gave everything for him. It was over.