A Broken Queen

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She was quietly sobbing when he knelt beside her, her hands covering her face and her fine, long golden blonde hair a curtain that draped over those hands and her upper body.

"Night Mistress, are you injured?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Dead," she moaned in pain through her fingers. "They're all dead!"

Taking the lilith by the shoulders as gently as he could even as he heard Fiadh come around the corner and move to try and help Truk and Narcist, he gave them a squeeze.

"Mistress! I need you to focus. Are you injured? If you can walk, we must withdraw. Or we'll be captured by human law enforcement."

That was enough to push through her fog of despair.

"Captured? No, that mustn't happen," she said in a throaty voice. "No, no, I am not injured."

"Can I help you to your feet, Mistress?"

She held out her hand in response. Taking it, Lash rose to his own feet before using careful strength to pull her to hers. As she came to her feet, she used the hands that were covering her face to throw back her hair. And in doing so, revealed the incredible beauty that was her birthright, coupled with shockingly blue eyes and high cheekbones.

Those bright blue eyes swung over onto him.

"You're Ingamon Lash," she named him with a voice hoarse from screaming. He quickly bowed his head in acknowledgment.

"Will you be troubled in traveling in my company?" he carefully asked after lifting his head to return her gaze.

"No," was her curt answer. "I stand with Ventru, and publicly denounced the Council for allowing a pogrom to be leveraged against your clan."

"Ah," Lash nodded. Now it made sense why the Hand was attempting to kill yet another lilith. They wanted to silence her.

The weight of a lilith's support was immense. It could turn the common vampire's opinion away from supporting the council's purge edict and towards supporting Ventru. No wonder they wanted her dead.

"Then Ventru and House Lash are greatly honored by your support, Night Mistress." Again he bowed his head in respect. And, in doing so, he caught the sound of sirens growing louder.

The humans had moved from Terminal 2 to Terminal 5. It was just a matter of time before they locked the terminal down, if they hadn't already.

"And now I must beg your forgiveness, Mistress."

"For what, Commander?" she asked, taking a look around at the devastation he had leveraged against their enemies. "For your poor timing?"

"If I could've saved your m'tada ..." he began to earnestly say in apology before he found her fingers pressed against his lips.

"Don't apologize for that, Ingamon," she said when he looked at her, eyes wide in surprise. "They did what they were supposed to do." Her fingers fell away. "And now I sense you need to do something. Something that's the real reason for your apology."

"Yes, Mistress. We need to move. Do you have transport?"

"Had," she said, using her fingers to brush away the tear tracks on her face as Fiadh and the Ventru nestari joined them, Truk and Narcist looking distinctly sluggish and groggy. Then Fiadh stepped forward to give her sister lilith a quick hug, an embrace the blonde lilith quickly returned with fervor.

When they drew apart a moment later, the blonde lilith looked visibly more calm and resolute.

"But it was compromised in the Hand ambush that took out most of my guard," she continued her report, looking back at Lash. "My M'tada have fought a running battle through Heathrow's underbelly for the better part of an hour in an attempt to cut our way clear to the city, where we could look for a secondary option out of the UK."

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