Queen Lorelei POV
The palace reeked of blood and roses. Exactly how I like it.
Velvet curtains masked the scent of rot. The scent of failure. Of dreams crushed beneath booted heels and bound wrists. I walked the upper halls like a ghost with a crown, my heels echoing over stone polished with servant tears.
Below me, a girl twitched. Her back flayed open in punishment, discarded like bruised fruit.
"Tidy that up," I sang lazily, flicking my fingers at the nearest attendant. He bowed so fast his forehead hit the floor.
They all obey me.
Even the walls know better than to whisper against me.
Kristoff lounged on his throne like a bored godling, shirtless, smug, and simmering with impotent rage. His lion side always did flare when he felt out of control.
"Where is she?" he growled, fingers curling around the armrest like he was ready to crush something.
"We don't know," I replied, smooth as glass over a blade. "The spell was perfect. I was perfect. And yet... something divine shattered it."
I didn't snarl. I smiled.
That sharp, painted, predator's grin that's sent armies to their knees.
We were supposed to have her.
The goddess born brat.
I'd planned it down to the blood drop, chain her, drain her, take what I needed from her spark and bend the prophecy to my will.
But no.
Something, NO, someone, interfered.
I smelled moonlight and rot and divinity right before the blast.
I lost three guards.
A tapestry.
And my patience.
Back in the grand hall, I lifted my hand. With a thought, a shimmering projection lit the room...FaeNet. Our precious little web of illusion and influence. I adored social manipulation. It was blood magic with pixels.
With a single flick of my fingers, I pushed the viral post into the feeds of half the realm...
👤@TheQueen (✔️)
"⚠️ WARNING: Dangerous Goddess on the Loose.
Threat to the Crown.
Known for seducing powerful males. She must be stopped."
I sipped wine while the comments exploded.
Some begged for her capture.
Some doubted.
But many..too many...began whispering rebellion.
They saw the ritual.
They saw her ripped away by divine power.
And now they dared to hope.
Disgusting.
That night, deep beneath my palace, I descended into the catacombs with Kristoff at my side. The torches flickered against the damp stone, lighting the circle I'd carved myself, etched in forbidden blood and bone marrow.
They were waiting.
The Bone Seer, veiled in shadow, whispering to the walls.
The Twin Butchers, barefoot, red handed, smiling too wide.
The Shifter Collector, already stroking a new pelt.
The Mirror Witch, eyes like cracked glass, humming to herself.
My loyal freaks. My inner circle. Monsters in the skin of men and women.
They bowed.
"She's not hiding," Kristoff snarled. "She was taken."
"She was stolen," I corrected him sweetly. "Which means she can be retrieved. Or replaced."
I pulled a silver blade from my belt. Admired the way the torchlight danced across the edge. Then I dragged one crimson claw down the flat of it and smiled wider.
"We need blood," I purred. "And we start with her allies."
At my signal, two guards dragged Gailia into the chamber. My daughter. My traitor. Still breathing, for now.
She screamed when they grabbed her. Fought like she still had hope. How charming.
The court didn't blink.
"Please..no!! please don't!!"
I leaned close, brushing hair from her tear-streaked face. "You should have stayed pretty and obedient, darling."
And then I stepped back.
Let the guards drag her to the chains.
"The game begins again," I whispered, voice full of honey and venom.
And the basement sang with screams.
Just the way I like it.