I Was Kidnapped by a Vampire Queen, and Now the Vampire Born from My Soul Wants to Take Me Back

Iris was sitting at a large table. An absurdly long table, made of dark polished wood decorated with golden details along the edges.

A table where twenty people could sit without touching each other.

Iris was at one end. The queen, of course, was at the other.

That didn't make the distance feel any more comfortable.

On the contrary.

It made it worse.

Several maids moved around them with silent steps, serving dishes, removing empty glasses, placing cutlery and swapping trays with a precision so perfect it looked choreographed.

Nobody spoke.

Only the soft sound of silverware could be heard. Iris cut a piece of meat on her plate and brought it to her mouth.

She chewed.

She felt almost nothing.

Not because the food was bad.

The food was excellent.

It always was.

Iris swallowed. Then she looked down at her plate.

She wasn't hungry.

But she couldn't say so.

Across from her, the queen ate with calm.

Too much calm.

Her white hair fell over her shoulders, her black dress looked impeccable, and her red eyes observed every gesture with that tranquility that made Iris feel like a child trying to hide something broken behind her back.

Iris gripped her fork more tightly. At her hip rested Eleonora in sword form. The blade was sheathed, hanging at Iris's side with an elegance that didn't match the tension of her current owner.

Or supposed owner.

Iris hated that detail.

Supposedly, Eleonora was her weapon.

In practice, Eleonora behaved like an annoying houseguest who had decided to live at her hip out of legal obligation.

The queen finished a bite.

She gently wiped her lips with a napkin.

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Then she spoke.

"Iris."

Iris tensed.

"Yes, Mother."

The queen set the napkin on the table.

"How is your training with Eleonora coming along?"

Iris took half a second to answer.

Half a second too long.

"Quite well."

The queen looked at her.

Iris kept her expression calm.

Or tried to.

"Quite well," she repeated, as if saying it twice would make it more true.

The table went silent.

A maid poured red wine into the queen's glass and withdrew without a sound.

The queen picked up the glass.

She didn't drink.

"Quite well?"

Iris swallowed.

"Yes."

"I'm glad."

Iris didn't relax.

The queen drank a little from the glass and then set it back on the table.

"Then do you think you'll be able to endure the soul bond with Eleonora by the end of this month?"

Iris went still.

The fork stopped halfway.

Eleonora didn't move either.

But Iris felt something.

A faint pressure.

A tremor from inside the sword.

Iris slowly lowered the fork.

"The soul bond?"

The queen watched her calmly.

"Yes."

Iris barely furrowed her brow.

"I thought…"

She stopped.

She didn't want to say it.

But it was already too late.

The queen smiled gently.

"You thought what?"

Iris tightened her fingers around the cutlery.

"I thought you had promised Eleonora that her soul would be bonded with Matt's."

The temperature of the room seemed to drop.

Not really.

But that's how Iris felt it.

The maids kept moving.

The staff kept to their duties.

Nobody looked.

Nobody reacted.

Everyone in that castle had learned the art of pretending not to hear that part of a conversation.

The queen rested a hand on the table.

"And that remains a possibility."

Iris didn't respond.

The queen continued:

"When Matt returns."

The sword at Iris's hip vibrated very slightly.

Almost nothing.

But Iris felt it.

So did the queen.

Of course she did.

"However," said the queen, "Matt is inside the Forge Cave."

Iris looked down.

"I know."

"We don't know when she'll come out."

Iris clenched her jaw.

"I know that too."

"And the rebels won't wait for her to finish her trial."

Iris said nothing.

The queen picked up the glass again, but this time just turned it between her fingers.

"If you die in battle, Iris…"

The word landed on the table with an unbearable calm.

Iris raised her gaze.

The queen held her eyes.

"Eleonora will fall into their hands."

Iris felt the sword at her hip go completely still.

The queen kept speaking:

"And they won't be as patient as we are."

Iris swallowed.

"Would they force her?"

"Yes."

The answer was immediate.

"If the rebels capture Eleonora, they'll try to force the soul contract. And if they can't do it cleanly, they'll find other methods."

Iris felt something cold run down her back.

She didn't like Eleonora at all.

She was insufferable.

Arrogant.

Critical.

Irritating.

And every time Iris tried to practice with her, she could feel the sword's contempt like a second grip.

But even so…

The idea of the rebels taking her and forcing her to obey felt unpleasant.

Very unpleasant.

Iris looked down at her hip.

Eleonora's black sheath rested against her dress.

"Eleonora."

The sword didn't respond.

Iris looked at her for a few seconds.

"Do you have any objection to that?"

Silence.

Nothing.

Not a vibration.

Not a voice.

Not even an insult.

That was worse.

Much worse.

Iris closed her eyes for a second and let out a sigh.

"Right."

The queen watched her from the other end of the table.

"Eleonora understands the situation."

Iris opened her eyes.

"Does she really?"

The queen smiled.

"She doesn't have to like it."

"That sounds more likely."

The queen let out a soft laugh.

Iris didn't laugh.

She pressed her hand against her knee, under the table.

The queen picked up her cutlery again.

"I trust you, Iris."

Iris looked up.

The queen cut another small piece of meat.

"You can do this."