Chance Nightshade, daughter of the Melbourne City Alpha, will avenge her brother's murder at any cost. Even if it means working with a charming vampire prince.
Season 1 of Witchfire
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I ignored Midna's attempt to make eye contact as she was escorted from the hall by a contingent of guards. She must have seen that nothing fruitful would come of her visit, so why bother coming in the first place? I scorned her useless magic, which should have inspired her to prevent my brother's death. Surely that was the most direct way to prevent the shadow war she was so desperately afraid of.
When the throne room was empty of everyone save Richard, my father turned on me.
"You are not to leave this house under any circumstances," he said.
"But I won't be able to fight if I'm stuck here," I pointed out, realising too late that it was a moot argument. Arthur had taught me all he knew, but those lessons were conducted in secret, against our father's express wishes.
Even so, I was an advisor to the throne, a position I'd secured thanks to my magic. How was I supposed to do my job effectively if I couldn't get involved in the war effort?
"Exactly," Father said. "You're the last in line to the throne, Chance; the last surviving child of your mother, and all I have left of her in this world. You're staying put. That's an order."
I beseeched him to rethink the matter — a mistake. He took my plea as a challenge and stalked forward, the vein in his forehead bulging. Dominance flooded the room in a rush that threatened to unbalance me. The unseen extension of Father's will was like the tide, insistent and cold, permeating the air with the ghostly taste of salt. I tried to shove back, but the force of my mind was but a candle flame, paltry in comparison to his. With each pull of his ocean, it flickered weaker, until it threatened to sputter out altogether...
My resolve buckled. I bowed my head, breathing hard. "As you wish, sir."
"Good." The aggression drained from his stance, leaving behind an exhaustion that was uncharacteristic of the City Alpha. I was looking at a man who'd outlived his only son. "Call for the City Pack on your way out, and make sure Richard gets to the infirmary. I'll need him in good condition for our interrogation."
I knew he was excluding me from the meeting because I'd argued with him. As an extension of the City Pack and an advisor to the throne, I had every right to be amongst them, deliberating on the future of our people. I opened my mouth to say just as much when a chill ran down my spine, a frigid reminder of the futility of my frustration. He'd already defeated me in a mental battle; did I really want this to come to blows?
"Come on," I huffed at Richard, hauling him up by the collar of his shirt.
Richard swayed like a drunkard as we made our way to the infirmary on the third floor, drawing curious looks from the night owls perching in the common areas. The mansion felt reminiscent of a hotel at this godforsaken hour. Without the bustle of daily life, the rows of doors, crystal chandeliers, mahogany fixings and lush, maroon carpets looked decidedly corporate and eerily timeless. Only the occasional glimpse of a modern appliance reassured me that we were, in fact, living in the twenty-first century.
