Early in the morning, before Lionel and I had even gotten out of bed, Queen Heather barged into the chamber with a group of guards and maids, exuding an imposing aura. The air in the bedroom tensed, as if it had been frozen. Her sharp eyes pierced through me, as if she wished to crush me to the bone. Even her fiery red floor-length gown and the dazzling crown on her head were blindingly radiant, stinging my eyes!
The guards—vampire soldiers—were uniformly dressed in somber black, marching in unison as they surrounded the bed, cold and menacing, like a pack of demons waiting to devour their prey.
Good heavens! This wasn't about taking me to my coronation—this was clearly about dismembering me alive!
I was not only wary of this sudden, unwelcome guest but also terrified to the core. Yet, she put on the airs of a doting mother, her cold smile dripping with false affection. "Dear daughter, it's time to get up. Everyone is waiting for you!"
