The Queen of Blood

Ch 5: Unanswered Questions

I wake earlier than usual, the sun barely peaking over the horizon.

I move from my bed to the windowsill, watching the growing light spread across the dark sky, chasing away the night.

My dreams has been polluted with childhood memories, and I had woken yet again with a face crusted from dried salty tears. My heart ached for my family. Not just the family that I share blood with, the family I had formed while growing up in the resistance camp.

It's starting to sink in that I might never hunt again in the forests with Alex, Luke, and Jake. I may never sing around the camp fires as we cooked out meat. I may never sharpen my arrows with my father as he teaches me the ways of the woods. I may never climb the rock faces with the people I had grown up with.

After hearing that Patrick has spent over half his life as a slave to the Queen I've started to give up whatever little hope I had left of escaping. If I were just a normal cleaning slave or garden slave I might have a chance, but I'm the Queen's. She would notice my absence and hunt me down if I ever managed to get past her guards.

Anger grows in my chest, spreading through me like a weed. I hate the vampires. I hate how they destroy us, use us, kill us, discard us, take our freedom and our rights...

My thoughts wander to the Queen.

Her behavior towards me still puzzles me.

First she kept watchful guards on me and tried to command me like she owned me. She even went as far as to pick out my dresses. Then out of her anger and my disobedience and disrespect she had shoved me against the wall, touched me and had been so close to sinking her fangs into my flesh. I had felt her lust pulsating through her skin that made contact with mine. I had felt the need in her fangs as they had scraped my skin.

But as soon as I had whimpered for her to stop, as soon as my scent of fear had become strong enough, she had pulled away. I had seen her fight herself. She had used a lot of will power to push back her primal desires. For what? Why? No other vampire cares when they smell a human's fear. If anything it makes them feel more powerful. So why does she feel put off by my fear?

Her eyes had even shown guilt. Shame. Disgust at herself.

It makes no sense.

I've never know vampires to feel any of those things, especially due to a human.

Then there's the story of yesterday. The Avery Blossom that the Queen had left on my bedside table, as if to apologize? I still do not know the meaning behind that gesture.

She had even held back her anger at my blatant defiance, listening when I told her not to kill the sparrow.

She had tried to understand why I hate her kind.

She had been careful to not touch me. Even when she said goodnight.

Her actions towards me leave me befuddled.

By now the sun is slowly inching its way over the horizon, casting energetic beams of yellow and orange light throughout the streets of the vampiric kingdoms capital.

According to Patrick, the Queen took no mercy and gave no second chances. The slaves of the palace were treated fairly, but if one took a step out of place it often resulted in their deaths.

Yet I have disrespected her on multiple occasions.

Why is it that I am still alive?

I sigh in defeat and get up from the window sill, padding over to the bedside table and fetching the book that the Queen had suggested to me.