I twist my hair back in an elegant knot. I can’t find a smile anywhere on my lips as I carefully set my crown upon my head. A knot of dread is in my stomach as I lace up my gown.

I’m done. I’m done.

I’m so done.

The words echo through my head as I numbly try not to think about everything.

Walk away.

Leave it all behind.

Cyrus was right.

He was right.

But I fought for this.

I didn’t know all the details of what was going on, or what was to come, but I fought for this. Now I have to see it through to the end.

But I’m just so tired.

Feeling empty and depleted, I step out of the bathroom and find Cyrus waiting there for me.

He must see the heaviness in my eyes, in my expression. He pulls me into his chest and wraps his arms around me, cradling my head against him.

He doesn’t say anything, and I think he’s feeling the same things I am.

Is it worth it anymore?

What are we still fighting for?

But I don’t have time to sit and wallow. Cyrus doesn’t have time. Our world doesn’t have time.

I straighten. I brush Cyrus’ jacket flat again. I take his hand and I walk through the halls with him, side by side.

The volume of the voices spilling from the Great Hall is nearly enough to rumble the castle floors. I take one more pause, one more moment, surrendering myself to Queen Sevan, before the both of us step inside.

There are so many here. There are roughly three hundred fifty court members. More than forty of us are out scouting and spying. And then there are around two dozen familiar and non-familiar faces, Royals who came to our aide.

The House of Valdez, with Hector and Edmond.

I remember the members of the House of Himura, who I was last a descendant of.

The leaders of the House of Cordero are the same.

There are many faces I don’t recognize. Leadership has changed in the 286 years I was dead or missing.

But they’re here.

Many are not.

The room is set up with four long tables, another set up at the head of the room. Every Royal sits along the tables, the room packed and full.

I walk by Cyrus’ side, and every eye is fixed on us as we go to the head table.

Neither of us speaks for a long moment. We both stare out, looking back at our descendants that surround us.

I take note. Alivia has not yet arrived.

A wicked voice in the back of my head whispers doubt. States that there is the possibility that she isn’t coming.

I tell myself I don’t care if she does.

But it’s a lie.

“Brothers and sisters,” Cyrus says. His voice cuts through the massive space with clarity and evenness. “Sons and daughters. Sevan and I welcome you to Court and give you our deepest depths of gratitude for coming.”

Cyrus holds my hand, and I note all the eyes that watch us. There are small smiles. Softness in certain eyes.

I know the legends we bring with us. I know that they know the stories of my death, occurring over and over. For 286 years they’ve known the Queen was dead.

And here I am. Here we are, Cyrus and I, together.

“For a very long time we have lived in relatively consistent peace,” Cyrus continues. “There have been issues, small instances to be dealt with. But we have remained safe. We have stayed out of the spotlight. We have kept to ourselves.”

The room is absolutely silent. They listen on baited breath. They wait for reassurances as to why they’re here.

“Throughout the years there have been many who questioned why we should hide who and what we are,” Cyrus continues, his voice increasing slightly in volume. “Individuals have contested why we must live in fear, when we are so much stronger than those we once were.”

A memory flashes through my head. Of the two of us running through the dark. Of an angry mob chasing after us with torches and pitchforks and swords. I recall placing a rag between my teeth, trying to stifle my screams in the dark so that I didn’t expose us.

“A long, long time ago,” Cyrus says, and I know exactly where he’s headed in this moment, “I was the lone and sole vampire in this world. It was terrifying adjusting to and learning about the bloodlust that seemed to transform me into a different person. And I exposed myself. I exposed my family.”

Cyrus squeezes my hand, an apology expressed a million times over the thousands of years. I squeeze it back, a reassurance that he was forgiven a long, long time ago.

“Sevan and I were forced to move,” Cyrus says. “When she became what I am, when there were two of us who needed their blood, we no longer had a home.”

I let my eyes slide closed, remembering that fear.

“When others realized what we were doing, they wanted to kill us,” Cyrus presses on. “They wanted to torture us. They tried. So we had no choice but to run, because even though we were so much stronger than them, there were only two of us, and there were thousands of them.”

Thump. Thump thump.

My heart rate increases with the fear, the recollection of those times.

“We were chased from our home country,” Cyrus says. “We had to flee hundreds of miles away. And then we found this place.” Cyrus’ voice cuts out, and the room is silent for five heartbeats. “Roter Himmel. Red Heaven. We were alone, we were isolated for dozens of years. But we finally found peace. We found a place where we could exist without fear.”

Cyrus is quiet for a long moment, and my eyes slide open. “Have you ever thought about it?” I ask. My voice is not loud, but it does carry throughout the silent room. “How few of us there are? I can’t say that I know any official numbers, but we have estimates. Only 50,000 of us throughout the world. And there are over eight billion humans in it.”

I feel sick. I literally have to swallow down bile. If I were human, my hands would tremble. “Think about those odds. You are strong. But if they all knew…if it came to fear for their survival… Do you think we would stand a chance?”

I try to read their faces, to see what they’re feeling, thinking. But I’m so terrible at that.

“This isn’t about living in fear,” I say, shaking my head. “I am not asking you to live in fear. I’m asking you to think of our species. I’m asking you to look for peace.”

Through the dead quiet, there’s the dinging of someone’s phone. A woman with dark skin and a shaved head looks embarrassed as she pulls her phone out to silence it. But she looks at something on her screen, distracted for a moment.

“Old ways of thinking have resurfaced,” Cyrus moves on. “And old enemies have come to light once more. Moab believed everything the Blood Father taught him. Lorenzo St. Claire admired the man.”

There’s another ding that sounds throughout the Great Hall. And then the sound of a vibration.

“Our way of life as we know it will end if we do not put a stop to what is happening outside our borders, now,” Cyrus presses on through the distractions.

Another vibration sounds, and this time, Cyrus’ eyes ignite red in irritation.

“Your majesties,” Malachi speaks up, his eyes slightly wild. “You need to see this.” He rises from his seat and crosses to our table. He extends his phone and I take it with sweating palms.

Sound cuts sharply through the Great Hall.

I see a frantic scene, streets crowded with people. Dozens, maybe hundreds. The noise is just a jumbled mess of sound. A man carries the camera, pointing it at himself for a moment, smiling, sticking his tongue out. He flips it back around.

There are two men fighting now. One takes a swing at the other, but he dodges out of the way. Another swing, and it knocks one of the men clean off his feet. He flies back, landing a good fifteen feet away, stopped only by the surrounding crowd.

“Where did you find this?” Cyrus demands as we continue to watch.

“It was posted online an hour ago,” Malachi says. “A member of my House just stumbled upon it and sent it to me.”

I have no doubt that this is why so many phones were going off in alarm just moments ago. It was getting discovered and shared around the world like wildfire.

The man holding the camera laughs with the crowd, and he darts off through the masses again.

I hear whimpering, and it grows louder as the man walks. “No,” a woman cries. “Please, not again.”

We see her through the crowd suddenly, and there are two other women grasping her. Suddenly they bury their faces into her neck, fangs flashing and lengthening.

“This is on the Internet?” Cyrus growls, “for anyone to see?”

I watch in horror as the woman’s face goes slack as the numbing toxins take her over. The two female vampires suck and pull. The woman grows paler.

The man holding the camera just snickers, thoroughly entertained.

The human woman’s knees just give out and she drops as the man pans the view away.

“It looks like it,” someone says. “There’s…” They swear under their breath. “There’s already ten thousand views and it’s climbing by the second.”

Cyrus grips the back of the chair he stands behind and squeezes. The wood splinters.

The man makes his way through the crowd again, and I don’t miss as here and there, we can see other humans being fed upon. He calls out, and another man suddenly looks over, right at the camera. The man says something in a language I don’t recognize. The other male laughs, and suddenly, his eyes flash brilliant red.

My heart sinks.

This man, he’s showing us everything.

The brute strength.

The blood drinking.

The red eyes.

There, for only a fraction of a second, I see a familiar face walk past in the frame.

“Lorenzo,” Cyrus hisses.

But he’s gone just as quickly.

The cameraman calls out something loudly, and a few more voices echo back the same words to him. But he carries on.

A circle of vampires stand around a pack of people that I have no doubt are human. Like they’re sheep and the vampires are guard dogs. The man says something, and a vampire turns, pulls a young man from the group and hands him over.

The cameraman pulls the young man in, and the video cuts out as he sinks his fangs into his neck.

“It’s up to twenty thousand views now,” a quiet voice says, but everyone in this big room hears it.

I want to shake my head. The words no, no are trapped in my throat.

But I’m just frozen. I’m ice. Rooted on the spot.

“Not everyone will believe what they see,” a voice says through the quiet. I recognize it was Hector Valdez.

“But with this many views…” another woman says, one I don’t know. “They’re going to wonder why this is drawing so much attention. They’ll question if it’s fake.”

I can feel him—Cyrus’ presence at my side. I feel him…growing. Filling the room.

For thousands of years, secrecy has been what he valued most. And now, here, it’s all being wrecked.

His hand clamps down on the phone, and it crushes, crackling and splitting, dropping to the table in a hundred little pieces.

“Arm yourselves, my children,” he seethes. “Come dark, we begin this war.”