Chapter 13

I pull out a dagger smoothly from my right arm, more specifically from the compartment in my long, elegant, black sleeve and drag in across her jaw line, crooning as I throw out taunts to her. I almost sigh, just another part of my dragging day.

"Your mother wouldn't want you to do that," was her only reply, but I could then feel a shift in the air, the increase of her heart beat. She's trying to make me tic, faulted.

I couldn't, with all honesty, come to care less about my late mother's whore. My mother was many things, but loving was never one of those traits and I've always resented her for that. A small part of me will always hate her.

"My mother was a meek, quite, pushover. And she only loved you for your beauty and yet you invoke her name in attempts to protect yourself. What a foolish girl you are."

When I'm done speaking she looks more afraid then ever, her eyes not daring to match mine, but instead, remaining fixated on the slender knife I spin around my fingers. She swallows hard, her throat bobbing, "I'm the foolish one, right? Always the fool for my every action. Why aren't you made to be the fool here?"

I arch a brow, "really."

Her face contorts into something ugly, her horns poking up more prominently. "I'm not The one who married as a twelve year old. I'm not the one who feel for Ravenna Nivirah. I'm not the one who's responsible for her parents deaths-"

"I say good riddance to a pair of crappy parents and my love life doesn't concern the likes of you. Even if it does involve your son."

Her face twists up into anger and a little fear, "don't you dare touch my son," she says, pointing a shaky finger in my direction, "don't you dare lay a single finger of your poisonous hands on him."

"You won't survive this world much longer with that tone, Char."

"I-" she mumbles out, stumbling and tripping over words as she attempts to speak.

I touch my hand to her cheek, stroking slightly. It makes her recoil. "Tread carefully. A wrong word may just end you."

I press that dagger into her neck just a tad more, not enough to draw blood, but to show her that I'm not joking. I will kill her if I need to.

I may have defended her once, but that time has passed. I would be sure to make good on my threats, as I always do. She stays silent, no more to say, no more fire in her. She's heavily breathing, panic somewhat setting in. Her eyes are fixated on my blade as I press it just a little harder into her skin."

This time a thin line of blood does start to run down her porcelain skin. Not enough to do any damage, but enough to scare her.

But I can tell what seems to really be scaring her. It's always my unruffled, calm, cool, easygoing tone and posture. It's such a contradiction to who I am, that it startles just about everyone I come across.

"I'm in a generous mood, so I'll leave you be," I pull the now bloody knife back from her and she slumps just an inch, not having dared to move before out of fear of my slim, tiny, harmless looking blade. I make her jump and she lets out a small scream as I cut open her previously perfect cheek.

And with that I turn on my heel and walk out the door.

Ever the predicable player she says nothing, scrambling back the moment I have my back turned.

I exist the room and simply get lost in walking down the twists and turns that make up Moonstone. I notice a tapestry that I remember quite fondly, one of the flame.

More specifically, my mother, grandmother, great grandmother, great great grandmother and a few other generations of Aculiacs surrounding the flame.

Nine generations of Aculiac queens, I am the tenth. The tenth and final. I've always thought the number ten had a hint of finality to it.

They would never be coming back, but what I noticed most was Azura, she was here. With her ravens hair and violet eyes, you would think that me and Azura would look the same, but we don't. Even though our skin tones are almost exactly the same, our hair and eyes identical.

She looks so vibrantly full of life. I just look... dead.

Azura had died a few thousand years after my mothers birth, finally satisfied that her line wasn't about to die out.

My mother herself had been young when she died, and I myself was too young to be on a throne when I ascended.

I was fifteen when I was crowned, sixteen when I ascended into power. I may have been mature for my age, but I didn't have the connections to rule, the experience to sit on the throne.

As a young queen I had no idea what I was doing, so I compensated for shitting ruling in the only way a knew how to; cruelty. It's how I became feared in the first place.

I was a young, new, uncontrollable girl with no path and a lot of pain and it made people immediately wary. I had lost a family and a life and my moods were in abundance.

Over time I really learned the nuance of ruling, but it took a lot time to pick up on the finer points of ruling. I had no one to help me and everyone that may have been loyal to my family previously were as good gone.

I learned to never lose, to stick my chin up and smile even when the world was falling out beneath me, to always be at leave five steps ahead.

Five steps ahead is why Charlottes pretty blue blood hasn't been spilled upon my polished floors. Killing Charlotte would mean loosing a battle I never really wanted to fight in the first place.

I walk towards my room. So much white is making my head ache and although my room is white marble walls, it still has color.

And then was Arabella Atkinsons. I had put a knife through her early this morning. She came to me, tried to pray on my desperate want for companionship and had attempted to seduce me.

But I was not about to go there with Arabella.

We had been friends, with the exception of our one night stand, many years back, but she had betrayed me over some lover I don't even remember.

And besides, Arabella's dear grandmother had killed Arsetti Aculiac.

My aunt Arsetti had been the first to go down, then some of my cousins, my uncles as well. I had always been close with Arsetti, she had taught me so much.

Arsetti had taught me to have a strength I didn't know I could muster up.

I open my door and lock it tightly behind me, putting up my wards of protection. As I say the few words necessary to activate them, I see as a shimmer of blue lines light the walls for only a split second.

I sit on my overly sized bed, perfect for orgies, and lounging.

The one fond memory I had of my mother was the history lesions she would give me on this very bed. She would sit with and talk for hours while playing with my hair.

I never knew why she just stopped coming. Maybe she had learned to hate me, maybe Aries had forbidden her from coming to me, it doesn't really matter now.

She had tight me that creation was 73 trillion years ago, when Azura Aculiac was born of the void. The very same void the represents both life and death. My mother said that Azura had eight children, one with violet eyes. Azura had looked down on her Sylvian and known that she was her true heir, the others she raised, but they branched out. And so became the first heads of houses among Varsillia.

Leanna Nivirah.

Maria Wright.

Evander Temes.

Aleskander Atkinsons.

Emilee Valeron.

Mallory Hawthorn.

Murial Night.

Sylvian Aculiac.

The birth story of the Varsillian world is much more complex, but more interesting as well.

I remember Sylvian briefly in my memory, she was the eldest in our family, aside from Azura of course, but I only have faint memorys of her. I remember Azura being weary and tired. I guess living fir so long does that to a person.

Azura was the best of us all, the other houses don't know much of our history, but they all respected Azura. I think Azura was the only thing that had kept the houses content as they were, they were also afraid of the power Azura had accumulated in her long, long, life. When she died things started to slowly unravel.

Looking back, I should have seem the signs sooner. Looking back all I can feel is regret and something else, something I can't quite place.

Looking back I now see all of the contingencys they put in place. Just thinking about Arsettis' tunnels, that was planned in preperation for her departure from the realms of the living.

Arsetti had always built them leading to lunata nusquam civitatem. The crescent city of the eternal light and flame.

Before I can rest my head and fall asleep I repeat those damned names over and over and over again. Just like mom used to.

Leanna Nivirah.

Maria Wright.

Evander Temes.

Aleskander Atkinsons.

Emilee Valeron.

Mallory Hawthorn.

Murial Night.

Sylvian Aculiac.

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