From Slave To Queen (Athena and Michael) novel Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Cassian

Everything around me bows before me, including the minds of people. I mold them at will, implie

can wander through them as I please. And yet, she fights to resist.

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memories or thoughts that never existed, and I

No matter how much I try to enter it and crush it, to shatter it until her mind is nothing but dust and she a hollow shell, her will is made of iron and manages to repel me. However, she doesn’t know that from time to time her thoughts come to me like whispers in my ear, that all the anxieties that arise from the possibility that I am in her head at that very moment reach me.

Mavka’s blood has filled my goblet for over an hour, and just the thought of letting it slide down my throat no longer excites me. Instead, that other neck–long, creamy skin, and delicate lines–seems to sing to me like a siren, tempting me to go against my own rules. Only three days have passed, and the edge of my fangs already bothers me every time I imagine sinking them into her and seeing that face trapped in horror.

“Cassian.” The voice of Drystan, whose parents must have loved our land to name him that, reaches me from outside my room.

I murmur my reply, knowing it will reach his ears.

His straight, black hair down to his shoulders soon appears. He walks toward my desk with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes serious and lips pressed into a line.

“I’ve been observing her during the day, just as you asked,” he informs. “She usually spends the afternoons in the library or exploring the castle.”

“What about my wing?”

“She doesn’t go near it.”

I rest my chin on my folded hands as one corner of my mouth lifts in satisfaction. Seems my threats had the desired effect.

“Has she spoken to anyone?”

“Only with her maids.”

“Good.”

Drystan shifts where he stands, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. I narrow my eyes, knowing my friend’s behavior–this Pure who’s been at my side for half a lifetime—can only mean something that might enrage me. And when I’m enraged, the world risks being split in two. Because that’s one of my gifts: to manipulate the composition of things, of matter, even of what seems to have no true form. The mind is one of the things I enjoy playing with the most. It’s like a tangle of strings made by a cat, so fragile that a simple movement of my hand could unravel all those connections, everything that makes it work.

“Are you planning to keep dancing on my floor, or is there something you want to say to me?”

The vampire’s eyes, black as obsidian and cold as death, land on me. He licks his dry lips before speaking.

“The other bloodmaids won’t stop whispering.”

I wave my hand dismissively.

“Since when do I care about their whispers?”

“Mavka is poisoning the thoughts of the others.” He tilts his head slightly with curiosity. “They’re not happy with how the girl is being treated.”

“They don’t need to be happy.”

“They’re threatening to kill her

Laughter bursts from my throat with force.

Kill her? Them? None of them will rob me of that satisfaction, and if any dare, I’ll make sure to break every bone in their bodies. Elara is my prey. and I won’t let anyone take her from me.

“Ring Mavka’s bell,” I command. “I’ll give her a warning.”

He nods in obedience and takes a step back. A smile appears on his lips–a mischievous and wicked one that reveals his fangs.

“Dropping the formalities for a moment.” He raises one of his thick black eyebrows. “What are the girl’s privileges about, friend?”

I throw the quill resting beside the desk at him as a warning–and as part of our games. He catches it before the tip pierces his eye and smiles arrogantly.

“Nothing in particular

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Chapter 11

“You never let them wander so freely around the castle,” he points out, twirling the quill between everywhere.”

his

aegers. “You hate the smell they leave

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True. Although the smell of blood drives our kind mad, it repulses me. I feel a deep hatred and contempt for every single one of those insignificant beings. That’s why I avoid feeding directly from them. The one who’s come closest to breaking that rule is Mavka. She’s managed to surprise me by lasting in my territory longer than anyone else. Obedient, healthy, and with a sick devotion.

“My dear friend, it hurts more to cage an animal that has already known freedom,” I say.

“You seem to hold a special hatred for the creature.”

I don’t respond, though my thoughts revolve around his remark. Yes, it’s true that the moment I saw her, I felt the need to break her. To make her bones crack beneath my fingers like miserable twigs, to shatter her mind until she went insane. Perhaps it was the fact that in her eyes I saw the same thing I see every time I look into mine. Hatred, hatred, hatred.

We both hate what the other is.

Drystan clicks his tongue, as if my silence is enough of an answer, and turns toward the double doors of

my room.

“I’ll summon Mavka.”

When the door closes behind him, I lean back in the chair in front of the desk and close my eyes. I dive into concentration, projecting my power outward as if I could give it shape and make it a living being. A being that walks, seeking its target. I traverse the long corridors of the castle,

descending countless spiral staircases until I reach one of the underground levels. Curious that Elara has chosen one of the most hidden and ancient libraries. I follow her scent, searching for her among the tall dusty shelves and the musty smell of old books. I find her sitting cross–legged, which completely wrinkles one of the dresses I took the trouble to choose. In her hands rests a heavy book with worn leather covers and yellowed

pages.

Her finger trails along a line as she reads it aloud softly.

I push against her mind, attempting to enter it and unsettle her. To my surprise, she senses me.

“Leave me alone.”

If I had a physical form, I would narrow my eyes and cross my arms, mocking. She purses those full lips while scanning the air around her with vacant eyes. Her entire appearance is empty, dull, and colorless. Black hair, opaque and lifeless, gray eyes, skin white as alabaster–even her lips seem pale. And yet, she managed to attract a lot of attention at the auction. Including mine.

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