Mark of Betrayal (Dark Secrets #3)(87)
Author: A.M. Hudson

“And what would you like to do about that?” I asked.

“With your permission, Majesty, we seek the right to live together—to…to be together while she remain human.”

Everyone gasped.

“You understand there are reasons this has not been allowed in the past—unless under very special circumstances?”

“I do, Your Majesty.” He bowed lower, tension resting on his shoulders like a heavy load. “But I…I love her, and I can’t risk losing her.”

“Have you ever thought of, perhaps, changing her into a Lilithian?”

He looked up at me. “No, Your Majesty, I hadn’t. I didn’t know that was a possibility.”

“Things have changed around here,” I said and stood up, taking a few steps to stand before the man. “To your feet.”

He slowly got up, arching his back to keep his head lower than mine. How terribly old fashioned. But I understood, thanks to all my lectures from the Officials, that this was how it had to be, silly or not.

“It’s dangerous, as her bite can put you in a coma—” I smiled over my shoulder at my Private Council, wishing we could spread word about immunity. “But, knowing this, would you want that life for her? She will be forced to feed through a slit in a willing vampire’s vein—she can never bite,” I said.

He looked up at me, his eyes bright with a smile. “Yes, my queen, that would be fine—for the sake of eternity together, I would do anything—even feed her myself.”

Behind him, the girl’s eyes glittered with hope. I didn’t even need to ask if she wanted this or not.

“Good. Then I approve.” I looked over at Morgaine, half noticing the man step back and take his girlfriend’s hand. “Morg, can you see this happens for them, please?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” She bowed her head. “I’ll turn her myself.”

“Very well,” I said. “Then it is done.”

“Thank you, Queen Amara.” His voice almost broke. “I am your eternal servant.”

I kind of laughed. “No need for that. But, if ever you feel the need to extend your family, please do consider adopting one of the Immortal Damned. We’re hoping to have them ready for society within a few months, and we’re looking, pre-emptively, for families to care for them.”

The man’s grey eyes became wider and he shook his head, bowing at the same time. “Of course, Your Majesty. We…we’d be only too happy to.”

“Great.” I smiled out across the crowded room, finally happy to be queen.

Given that the knighting ceremony was supposed to be next week, I’d brushed off the ‘Rising of the Knights’ speech, figuring I’d learn it after the coronation. I stood behind the curtain of my throne, Court finished for the day, knees shaking, knowing I would make a fool of myself when I walked out there in front of five hundred people, words lost in the back of my throat, and let out only a small squeak. They say preparation is confidence, but I was so not prepared.

When Walter announced me, I thrust my shoulders back, tilted my chin to the sky and stepped out from the curtain. Every breath, with every step I took, sounded like it was exhaled right into a microphone. I could hear everything around me; the heartbeats of my people, the silent worry of my council, the throat clearing of the old vampires, and the foot tapping of eager subjects in the back row.

I stopped with my toes just on the edge of the top step, and my eyes washed across the crowd—tightly packed into the court, lining the walls, leaving one clear isle of red carpet where the knights would walk in a few moments. And a proverbial furry cat climbed into my throat and ate my tongue.

After a tense pause, I inhaled a deep, shaky breath of nerves and held it, closing my eyes. The words of my speech rolled across my eyelids, and my mind flashed to the memory of the day Mike delivered this same speech to the knights—when they were still human. He stood so tall in front of the hundreds, as if they were a small group of friends—confident, comfortable in his own skin. “For generations,” he’d said, “the Lilithian knights have survived in secrecy; trained by night, kept underground, unknown to exist. We have been few and ineffective. Now, with the rising of a new queen, we too have clambered from the ashes of insignificance. We will become strong, impenetrable—a force to be reckoned with.”

And listening in my head to his words, my own part of the speech came to mind. “The legend of the knights began with the first Created Lilithian,” I started, my voice clear, unwavering. “Queen Lilith, whose source of nourishment saw the deaths of many vampires, discovered that her brother sought to imprison her and take the throne. Knowing the creation of vampires to be possible from a bite, she attempted the same on a human man named Lancelot.

“The transformation turned this meagre mortal into a powerful being, giving him the ability, like Lilith, to end the life of a vampire. An army was created, and after pledging their creed upon the Stone of Truth, the Guardians of the Pure became known to all as,” —pause for effect— “Lilithian Knights.”

The crowd cheered; the energy in the room had a different feel now—almost like the last day of school before summer break.

“And now,” I continued over the noise. “Rising from the ashes of a long forgotten tradition, is a new era of guardians. Five men will be sworn in; five men have taken their oath. On their honour, on their blood, they will serve with their lives—protect queen and country—Lilithians, Vampires and Humans—united.”

The roar of elation spread further this time; those at the back of the room wildly applauding; their thunderous calls infecting the hundreds outside who came today—all of them to see the new Lilithian revolution begin.

I moved away from the lip of the step and sat in my throne, quite satisfied that, even with an exhausted brain and shaking knees, I still managed to remember the whole speech.

A gentle, quiet calm blew in like a breeze, and the Court came to a standstill. In one, sweeping movement, all heads turned to the back of the room—watching, waiting.

Walter banged a giant brass stick three times, and the glass doors parted. My eyes adjusted to the warm yellow glow of the afternoon that entered, making silhouettes of five figures. As they marched forward, the anticipation beating in my heart made my blood run warm, and the silhouettes sharpened into men before my eyes. My knights. They looked like nineteenth-century officers of the Queen’s Navy, in uniforms of white—with long, double breasted jackets and ropes hanging across their chests, which I knew were special kinds of rope—earned by doing some act.