Book 4: A Place of My Own

Emelda

Queen Emory smiles at the spread of vampire-friendly food laid out on a tea-table. Blood pastries and cakes galore sit on pretty little trays adorned with flowers, flutes of blood made to sparkle resting beside them.

“Are you not hungry?” she asks as I inspect the spread over the sound of Alma and Faye laughing on the other side of the room.

“Not really, but it’s beautiful, really. Thank you for doing this for her.”

“I never had a daughter,” she says with a tinge of disappointment. She smiles as she glances at Faye, but her eyes are sad. I’ve known the queen personally for several years now, but her history outside of what’s public to the court is a mystery to me.

I pick up one of the pastries. “Why did you choose to have only Michael? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“It wasn’t necessarily a choice, honestly. He was… our only. Our miracle, really. Hybrids like him are so rare…” She tapers off, shaking her head. “We tried for