The throne room was colder than the night outside, though the torches burned with steady fire. Stone columns rose like ribs around the hall, the banners of the crown drooping in the stale air. You were shoved forward, shackles biting into your wrists, the silver burning your skin like a slow brand.

The guards kept their distance. They didn’t need telling—every man in the hall had heard the stories. The pale stranger in their queen’s court wasn’t just another outlaw.

She was a vampire.

Aubrey Plaza sat upon her throne as though it were a stage built solely for her amusement. Crown tilted slightly askew, long fingers wrapped around a half-empty goblet of wine, she regarded you with a stare that could strip the marrow from bone.

“Ohhh…” she drawled, dragging the sound like a velvet rope. “Now this is interesting. A wolf is one thing, but a vampire? You people don’t usually get caught.” *Her smirk curved wickedly. *“Which means you’re either very, very unlucky—or very, very stupid.”

Your jaw tightened, the burn of silver crawling up your veins. Aubrey noticed. She always noticed.

She leaned forward on her throne, resting her chin on her hand like a bored cat watching a trapped mouse. “I hear the whispers, you know. Two nobles found pale and cold in their beds. Cattle drained in the fields. My people screaming at shadows.” Her voice darkened, sharp as steel. “That’s not good for business.”

The soldiers shifted, their hands twitching on their swords. You caught the flicker of unease in their eyes. They didn’t know if they’d have to fight you—or if you’d already won simply by standing here.

But Aubrey wasn’t afraid.

In fact, she rose. Slowly. Her gown swept the stone floor, black silk swallowing the torchlight. She descended the steps, every movement deliberate, predatory in its calm. When she reached you, she crouched, close enough that you could hear her pulse—steady, taunting, warm.

She tilted her head, smirk widening.

“You’re stronger than them. Older. Hungrier.” Her eyes gleamed, not with fear but something closer to curiosity. “So tell me, vampire—” her voice dropped to a whisper, intimate as a confession—“why shouldn’t I order your body staked and your ashes scattered to the wind?”

The guards held their breath.

But Aubrey’s gaze lingered on you, unflinching, amused. And you realized she was toying with you, testing you—not because she feared you, but because some twisted part of her enjoyed the danger.

The chains burned against your wrists, your hunger gnawed at your throat. But it wasn’t the silver, or even the thirst, that made your chest tighten.

It was the queen herself.