The urge to heal the injured created a physical ache in my stomach.

It was difficult to see all the suffering around me, knowing that I had to power to stop it, and do nothing about it.

Not that I'd had much choice in the matter.

"You won't survive this a third time," Grandfather Nandru reminded me again as he led me away from the make-shift infirmary to the throne room.

Here, the dead bodies had been cleared away and it was quiet. I suspected this is why he'd brought me here. Out in the other room, the wailing cries of suffering had started to drive me mad.

Daciana had been called away by her mother to tend to the injured and I didn't know where Christian was, but I imagined he must have been overwhelmed.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown, I thought as I wrapped my arms around myself.

Trying to keep my mind occupied, I surveyed the room slowly. A grand chandelier made of tear-shaped crystals hung over an ornate gold chair.

The chair looked like it hadn't seen use in a while, but I could clearly picture Henric sitting on it, his lion eyes scrutinizing the room, the permanent scowl he'd worn creasing his forehead.

The ghost of his memory tickled the back of my neck, sending a shiver through my entire body.

"You're not going to lock me in here with one of your charms, are you?" I asked Grandfather Nandru. I remembered how Christian had locked me in a room once somewhere in this castle using one of his grandfather's magical tricks.

"You are free to do as you please, Aimee. But I trust you understand the gravity of what will happen to you if you leave this room and try to heal again."

"Yeah," I mumbled. "I'll die."

"Precisely."

"You seem to know a lot about faerie magic," I ventured.

"Yes. I spent many years in faerie, back when your mother was queen."

"What was she like?" I whispered.

He heard me.

"Oh, she was a force to be reckoned with. She was the most tolerant of the faerie royals. There never was and never will be another leader like her. I am sure of it."

"Is faerie...is that where you learned your healing potions?"

"Yes," the grandfather said, with a small smile tugging up his lips. He clasped his hands behind his back and turned to look out the floor-to-ceiling windows, out into the slowly lightening sky at the east.

Thankfully, these windows did not overlook the stone bridge. I did not even want to imagine what all those bodies would look like under the harsh reality of daylight.

The sky outside looked like cotton candy. Pink and blue fluffy clouds now becoming streaked with the oranges of dawn.

"Do you know why it happens?" I asked as I took a seat on one of the marble steps.

The areas stained by Reader blood were difficult to avoid.

"I suspect it's because of your mixed race. Soulsucker's cannot give life. They can only take it. And faeries are meant to do the opposite. I think your body has a hard time with killing when half of your genes were made for healing. I think that when you use a great deal of magic, you begin to use your own spirit. This is why you died tonight."

"So what you're saying is that I technically suck my own soul out? That's freaking twisted."

"Faeries and Soulsuckers were never meant to procreate, young Aimee. But your mother...she didn't care about labels or race. She was both loved and hated for it."

"I can't understand why she'd choose him," I said, referring to Stefan.

The grandfather seemed to have understood.

"Perhaps, for the same reason, you choose my grandson? Stefan was not perfect, I'll admit. But he was not abusive like Henric."

I scowled at the idea of Henric abusing my birth mother. But to compare Christian to Stefan was outlandish...Christian was nothing like him, I was sure of it.

"No wonder she left him."

"Indeed. I don't understand where I went wrong with him." He sighed.

"Wait, you were Henric's father? I thought...well, I just assumed..."

"That I was Anca's father?"

"Well, it's just that you're not like him...I...you know I killed him right?"

"Do not ever say that aloud again," The grandfather said in a whispered tone. "I do not hold it against you and I understand why it had to be done. Others in our kingdom, especially after the events of this night, may not."

I swallowed and nodded my head.

"Come, help me prepare a healing tonic for the injured."

Once the cold of battle had left his body, Christian found himself feeling bone-weary.

The chatter of what was left of his advisors, noblemen with lands, men like Georgescu who craved nothing but power and money, enveloped his brain in a fog.

He wanted nothing more than to go to Aimee and hold her, make sure she was okay. To convince himself that this night and the hollowness in his chest had all been a nightmare.

That he hadn't just watched her die and felt like his heart had been literally ripped from his chest. That hundreds of his people had not just been slaughtered.

But being King required him to put aside his feelings, at least for the time being.

"This is an act of war," Georgescu bellowed." They had gathered in the great hall where the last of the bodies had been removed and the floors washed yet the smell of blood and war couldn't entirely be scrubbed away.

"And who do you propose we wage this war, against, Georgescu? All mankind?"

"These can't have been regular men. They did not fight like regular men. They must be Defenders and we must declare war. Half our people were slew!"

"Correct," Christian said, more calmly than he had expected.

Inside, he felt like his nerves had been frayed and exposed over a hot flame. He was angry not just about the night's events but at Georgescu's insistence that he act on impulse alone and start a war against the Defenders.

"This means half our numbers. I will not lead what is left of our people to their death."

"Your father would have seen this as an act of aggression and responded accordingly."

Christian stood from the chair he'd been seated. "Perhaps you'd prefer to consult my father from his grave?"

Georgescu reddened in the face.

"No? Then as your King, I will not start a war until I have all the facts. Especially not one we cannot win. Those that disagree, please make it be known that you wish to send the last sons of Readers to their deaths."

"Of course, none here want that but blood was spilled! We cannot sit idly by while the Defenders--′

"We do not know that it was Defenders," another lord, Micah, said.

"I agree with the King," Said Matias. "We must approach this with intelligence, not brute force."

"While we gather the facts," Another said. "We are lambs ripe for the slaughter. What is to stop these humans from returning?"

"We have doubled our protective wards around the castle. No one, human or otherwise is getting through any time soon. All I ask is that you give me a few days to plan the best course of action. A few days is all."

"What about my daughter?" Georgescu went on. As the other men shifted, nodding their heads in support of Christian, Georgescu tried to find another angle to discredit him.

"What of her?"

"She was promised to be wed to the King and now you tell me you will not be marrying her. You disgrace my daughter."

"There was never a true engagement. While I was away, investigating murders in secret, Vincent, my brother was able to get past your watchful eye and play King for a few weeks. I am sorry he misled you and he will be appropriately punished but I will not be marrying your daughter."

"We knew not of your departure!" Georgescu scoffed.

Of course, none of what Christian had said was true and Georgescu had a point.

In a true moment of weakness, he'd conceded to Vincent's threat to hand over the kingdom or he'd kill Aimee. He should have never accepted. Not only did it do nothing to protect Aimee but he'd left his Kingdom vulnerable.

A cruel type of guilt clawed at his insides. Perhaps if he'd stayed and fought harder against Vincent, this would not have happened.

The blood of many Readers was on his hands.

"Do you share your whereabouts with your entire household, Georgescu?"

The older vampire's face turned scarlet, his neck puffing up with anger.

"You need to make these deaths right, boy King," he growled before he stormed away with a flap of his coat.

"I intend to make this right," Christian said, as he addressed the remaining lords, meeting each of their eyes. "I will not rest until I do."

Just then, Daciana entered the room, waving him over.

"Lords," She said, with a hasty bow. "The King is needed. The soldiers are asking what to do with the...bodies."

Christian excused himself, walking down a handful of marble steps and across the great hall toward Daciana.

Behind him, the lords dispersed and Christian was able to think again.

"Prepare our people for proper burial. As for the attackers...I must speak with Grandfather Nandru."

"Chris, there are so many of them."

"We need to make the bodies disappear. Someone in the human world will be missing these men soon. I'm afraid we won't be able to conceal a slaughter of this magnitude."

"Do you think they'll...somehow find us?"

"If they found us once, I'm certain they can do it again. I fear this will bring dark consequences on our kind."

"You mean...like...discovery?"

Christian swallowed. "At one point in history, our existence being discovered wouldn't have posed a threat. But now...now they have weapons powerful enough to destroy us, C. I fear for our people."

"What are you doing to do?"

"I don't know yet," He ran a hand along his face. He was tired, both physically and mentally. He'd never wanted any of this. He never wanted to be King. "Where is Aimee?"

"With Grandfather Nandru. Don't worry, he'll make sure she doesn't use any more magic."

"It won't work," He said. "She doesn't listen. I told her to stay behind--begged her to but still, she came."

"You asked her to stay behind and watch you die. What was she supposed to do? What would you have done?"

"She died, Ciana," Christian said and his voice shook.

"I can only imagine how you felt," His sister said in a gentle voice.

"I don't ever want to feel it again. I don't ever want to love someone like this again. I've tried to put an end to things but she's stubborn and--"

Daciana grabbed his arm, bringing him to a halt. "Don't close yourself off to her. It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, big brother. And for selfish reasons, I'm glad she loves you."

"Loving me got her killed. How do I get her to stop loving me? How, C?"

"You can't. The only thing stronger than love, I think, is hate and Aimee could never hate you."

Christian move away from his sister and stepped outside, onto the early morning sun. His eyes surveyed the destruction. Amid the heat of battle, he had been unable to judge how many of them there'd been. But now, strewn across the bridge, he realized there were thousands of them.

Thousands of dead humans.

Christian's lips pressed into a thin line, his heart slamming into his ribcage.

How would he keep Reader Nation safe from the aftermath of this slaughter?

When a mixture of humans and Defenders started investigating, how would he keep the last of his people from being punished for it?

It didn't matter that they'd attacked first. Defenders would need someone to blame.

He needed to figure out a way to make the bodies disappear, erase the evidence that lay literally at his doorstep, no matter how warded and shielded from human eyes the castle was.

It wouldn't be long before others came looking. But no bodies equaled no crime, at least not one that could be proven. He readied himself to try and pull off the biggest deception of his life.

He knew in the end, he'd do whatever it took to keep those he loved safe and there was a way out of this, he just couldn't see it yet.

But his temples still ached from thinking.

Daciana, standing beside him, shielding her eyes from the sun with one hand didn't know it, but she'd given him the key to solving at least one of his problems.

The only thing stronger than love, I think, is hate.

There would be another battle, another fight, he was sure of it.

And it'd be one he wasn't certain he'd be able to win.

When the time came he couldn't have Aimee sacrificing herself to save him again.

Grandfather Nandru's words echoed in his head.

You will not survive this a third time

If the only way to keep Aimee alive was to make her hate him, he'd take it.

The consequences to his own heart be damned.