UNLIKELY QUEEN Read online

  For Melissa, I wouldn’t have done this without your help.

  Copyright T.L Smith 2022

  UNLIKELY QUEEN by T.L. Smith

  * * *

  All Rights Reserved

  This ebook is a work of fiction. Any references to real events, real people, and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the Author’s imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.

  All rights are reserved. This ebook is intended for the purchaser of this ebook ONLY. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage retrieval system, without the express written permission of the Author. All songs, song titles and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

  The prophecy foretold of the true queen...

  In the new world, where the old world is long forgotten, an evil queen sits on the throne, and anyone who challenges her reign is a mortal enemy—I am that enemy just by breathing.

  The queen always gets what she wants, and she wants me dead.

  Then one day, my life is turned upside down by a prophecy naming me the one true queen. I was oblivious to the true roles of the two men in my life—the Angel of Light and the Angel of Death—as my existence hung in the balance. One man there to save me, the other to claim me should the queen succeed in her quest for my blood.

  But every time she nearly succeeds in my demise, my dark angel swoops in, pulling me back to safety. Making the world stop. Pulling everything back in balance.

  Tired of being hunted by the vampires, slaves to the queen, I decide to fight back. It’s the only way to survive. I’m going to tear down the wards one by one and free my allies—the witches and the wolves—and then I’m going to force the queen from the safety of her castle and claim what’s rightfully mine.

  Her kingdom.

  Her throne.

  Her crown.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  PROPHECY

  About the Author

  Also by T.L Smith

  Chapter One

  His touch brands my very soul. I can feel it all the way down to the depths of my bones. It’s like a fire licking at its victim and being drenched in ice water at the same time. His lips touch mine, branding me, marking my soul so anyone and everyone can see or feel it.

  I am his.

  In this moment and forever, I belong to him.

  It feels like I’m in a daze. I shouldn’t know what he’s doing, but somehow, I know every single detail. It’s like a puzzle in my head, working it out, putting it together piece by piece.

  A sweep of his tongue, and the fire smolders.

  A bite of my lip, and the fire burns brighter.

  My insides are shaking, not understanding but wanting as much as he can give to quench my insatiable need for him.

  He pulls back, and in an instant, everything changes. I’m not blind. I can see clearly. His eyes shine brightly into mine, silver and steady. It feels like a drug is clearing from my system, cleansing me of him. I crave his intoxication once more—a hit—that one single touch or a single look can give.

  “You feel it, don’t you?” My eyes close at the sound of his voice, and I shiver as it takes on an edge. “Now I need you to run… run as if your life depends on it. Because if you don’t, I will find you, and I will take you.”

  Is it a malicious promise or a delicious threat? What I do know is that it’s one I delight in.

  “The prophecy?” I ask, and he nods in answer, wings expanding out in all their glory.

  And I find myself craving him once more.

  “If it comes true…” he continues by way of warning, “…our worlds will intertwine. You will have more power than anyone could ever dream of, and no one will be able to stop you.”

  “You won’t touch me again?”

  I miss it already—his touch, his taste.

  “I won’t be able to.” His lips meet my cheek, then the same words whisper once more in my ear. “Run, little fighter. Run.”

  Chapter Two

  All I want is to sleep right now, but Tanya is pushing my leg, trying to wake me. Kicking her, she falls backward, and I hear her hit the floor in a heap as I smile under the sheets.

  “You bitch,” she hisses.

  I pull the covers down as she rights herself at the end of the bed. She looks gorgeous, dressed and ready for whatever today will bring. With her hands on her hips, Tanya throws me her most menacing death stare, which is nowhere near as severe as she thinks. She wants to cuss me out—I can see it on her face—but she won’t. Tatiana is near, and she hates cuss words, unless they’re from her own mouth, that is.

  I am the baby of my family. Tatiana is the eldest, with Tanya being the middle child. There are exactly three years between each of our births, with the three of us sharing a birthday. We also share the same thick, chocolate-brown hair and emerald-green eyes.

  They say we look like our mother, who we miss deeply. It’s been years since she died. When you get sick in Cardia, only the rich get the help they need. Every potion we concocted to heal her, every mixture of herbs we tried to make her pain more tolerable, never worked on her.

  And in the end, the sickness took her.

  The word they used to define it was cancer. Today, it’s sickness.

  We have never met any other family like ours, but there aren’t many families left in Cardia. Cardia was established before I was born and after things had changed for the worse. Our kind never mixed with others before the angels descended, taking over a world we are all deemed too incompetent to manage.

  When they arrived, angry and condemning our actions, they destroyed everything we knew to be home and relocated us to what we now know as Cardia. Not everyone cooperated with the forced transition, many arguing that the angels had no right to exercise their authority in such a manner. While some never got to see Cardia for themselves, others—including my family—were lumped into their own wards.

  That means we now have to play nice in the event we cross paths with ones considered undesirables. Those who survived are different and rarely ever see eye to eye. A mere grudge that had festered for thousands of years, beginning in the Biblical age, still haunts us in our present life.

  My family are descendants of the great Witch of Endor, who had once been sought out by King Saul. Saul was a fierce, competitive man hell-bent on being anointed a prophet, his desire blinding him to a troublesome future that awaited. One particular night, under the glow of the new moon on the hill of Gibeah, he chanted his spell—a spell the Witch of Endor guaranteed would see his anointment.

  It worked.

  Until it became a curse.

  On the battlefield fighting against the Philistines, King Saul fell on his sword,
taking his own life.

  When all had fallen quiet, death surrounding him, and with the new moon exactly four years on the leap year later, King Saul rose from his sword.

  He wasn’t himself.

  No longer the ruler of Gibeah.

  No longer living.

  His tongue flicked over the sharpened points of his eye teeth, the thirst for blood sending him into a rabid frenzy of both disgust and need.

  He didn’t know the monster he’d become.

  This was never meant to happen.

  Before he could feast, there was one thing he needed to do first—kill the Witch of Endor.

  That night, as the few surviving books tell us, King Saul—who was now a vampire—sought out the Witch of Endor and took her blood while she slept. He feasted on her with an insatiable thirst. He found her taste addictive, the witch’s potent blood coursing through his veins, making him feel more alive than ever. By the time Saul made to leave, the empty vessel of the deceitful woman beneath him, he had vowed he would destroy every living witch on earth.

  King Saul was then on a warpath, ending human lives until the sun disappeared behind the mountains. Like him, they rose from the dead with no pulse, no heartbeat, sharpened teeth, a paler skin than their surviving Arabian family, and an unrelenting craving for blood. Many lost their lives, and the only ones who noticed the stealth-like figure in the night were the werewolves. They watched from afar, their yellow eyes tracking the movements of a murderous man who’d taken the life of their ally—the Witch of Endor.

  For years, the wolves and vampires battled each other.

  The wolves were advocates of peace.

  The pales, as the wolves referred to them, only cared about one thing—building their army. Eventually, their army was so great, the vampires forced the wolves into slavery, which lasted for centuries.

  Fast forward to today, and the resentment and hostility between the two clans is still raw.

  Then we have the humans. There aren’t many of them left, but the ones who did survive the angel fallout live a lowly existence. A life dependent on the vampires. In order to stay alive, the humans offer a percentage of their blood to feed the vampires. Each token grants them an extra month on earth. This isn’t a gift given for a chance at their own survival, it’s purely because if the vamps suck their bodies clean, they would soon run short of humans to feast on.

  No humans equal vampire death.

  No humans mean that we, the witches, will become the next target.

  Then lastly, we have the angels. Strong, beautifully fierce creatures who can rage with the wrath of God one moment and nurture the weak the next. They are rulers of their realm and rulers of shifters and witches on Earth. The angels created and enforced the law of the land, which happened when I was only a child, just eleven years old. I can’t remember the time before them, but the glimpses of what my sisters say make it sound beautiful.

  The males, like most creatures on Earth, are more magnificent than their female counterparts. Their strong, angular jaws speak of power and a presence that can both fascinate and intimidate. They are fiercely built, capable of winning any war, not only with their muscled strength but their agile minds. We, my family of witches and I, haven’t had much to do with them, keen to avoid their scrutiny.

  Until today.

  Today, everything changed.

  Today, we felt the wrath of the angels.

  It wasn’t a day I expected to come, it wasn’t a strange day, or anything out of the ordinary. Our routine was the same. Every morning, Tatiana heads our training, pushing us to our limits. It is essential training in order to survive living so close to volatile wards of shifters and vamps.

  “You know Tatiana will be pissed if you aren’t dressed in ten. So, hurry up,” Tanya warns, storming out of my room.

  More reluctant than usual, I crawl out of bed and dress in casual black clothes—what everyone seems to wear. Wearing color outside your ward makes you stand out, which is something to be avoided at all costs.

  Our house is small, boarded, and plain in a deliberate effort to avert attention from the outside world. It has three bedrooms, one for each of us, and a communal living area where we eat our meals.

  We don’t own any of the electronics I read about in my books. They are a thing of the past and something I never had a chance to experience. Instead, I read novels by authors long since passed, about mythical worlds and once-famous people.

  Training is grueling but necessary. Tatiana teaches us what she has learned from books I found at the library and from what our mother taught her. She can’t read, so the pictures are interpreted as best as possible.

  We quickly find out if the moves are effective or not, and this morning is no exception. In a swift Kung Fu motion, Tatiana flips Tanya on her back, leaving her wheezing for breath. I wince, almost feeling the pain myself.

  Tatiana spots me in the doorway, and in a heartbeat, issues my chores for the day. “Talia, you need to go to the markets and get bread. Tanya, go to the castle headquarters and pay our way.”

  We don’t argue, we never do. She seems to know all but in a good way. She has kept us alive and protected us for as long I can remember, and we respect her position in the family. She hands me some currency, enough red tokens to buy the basics. We are far from wealthy. We rarely ever possess orange tokens, which could be splurged by stocking our cupboards for days, and we certainly never hold any green tokens in our hands, which would identify us as the wealthy elite.

  Kissing my sisters on the cheek, Tatiana stops me with a hand on my shoulder. “Straight there, straight home.” Her eyes shine bright like they always do when she worries. She has every right to be concerned. Tensions are high over a mysterious vanishing of a teenage witch. No one has seen her. No one has heard from her. It’s a mystery that has rattled the ward and has us all on edge. We never know if we are fully safe despite the angels’ rule.

  “Here,” she declares, handing me a small, black bag containing weapons. It’s against the Cardia law to carry weapons, and I’d face serious consequences if I am caught, but I don’t have a choice.

  “I’ll be fine. I’ll see you soon.” I smile reassuringly while buttoning my black coat.

  I set out on foot and navigate through our ward. The market’s set in the middle, in a quadrant framed by the wards. If you don’t possess the power to fly, you walk. Although witches certainly have the power, it’s a mutual understanding that we remain low-key, thus blending in with the others. Hostilities are rife, and Tatiana’s adamant we never draw attention to ourselves.

  When I enter the quadrant, it’s super busy with shoppers. And when I spot the line of those wanting to buy bread, I decide to look around until it ebbs. Three stalls along, I see a hat, colorful in bright pink. I’m drawn immediately and pick it from the rack to study it closer. Instantly, I tense, my personal space being invaded. Then I hear a noise.

  Someone is smelling me, inhaling deeply as they travel the length of my neck. Unsettling chills break out along my skin, and I turn, lifting my shoulder for protection, only to see the vampire recoil. This isn’t the first time it has happened in my life. For some unforetold reason, vampires are both repulsed and uniquely curious over my scent.

  He snatches the hat from my hands, looking at me with a snarl. “You can’t afford that.”

  “I’m only looking,” I defend myself.

  “You’re a witch, aren’t you?” He squints as if assessing me. “You’re not like your sisters.”

  I ignore him.

  The vamps have us all picked. In the event the humans revolt, the bloodsuckers will turn to us. As a result of this impending doom, they have practically marked us for their taking, knowing our scents and picking their favorites.

  “Excuse me.” I make to leave, but he blocks me. Instead of meeting his red irises, I look at his shoulder with my jaw clenched.

  The vampire inhales me again, deeply, drawing me in until finally he exhales. With a deep voice he rumbl
es, “What are you?”

  At that point, I’m left with little choice. I push past his cold, hard body and stumble back onto the path. I can feel his eyes burning into me as I quickly sink into a crowd of people, willing myself to blend in again with the masses.

  When I come to a stop in the bread line, I’m trembling. The encounter was like so many I’ve had before, each one leaving me more on edge and uneasy for what’s to come.

  I distract myself by watching others. In front of me is a large man, both tall and wide. He is all mass with a thick head of hair, and his impatience is evident with the continual cracking of his knuckles. In front of him is one of the witches who lives a few blocks away. She is wealthy and doesn’t hide it well. She stands clutching her bag tightly to her chest as if she fears being robbed.

  My shoulders finally relax some, then I’m suddenly jolted forward with a haphazard push in the back. I lose my footing and fall against the tall, burly man’s back. He is quick to turn his bright yellow eyes behind him, scolding me. A werewolf. He glances at whoever is behind me and his yellow eyes fade back to brown in an instant. The hairs on my neck stand on end, and I’m suddenly terrified to turn around. Whoever it is that can rattle the shifter is no friend of mine.

  Instead, my shoulders grow tense once again, and I swallow hard. This is why Tatiana gives me a bag of weapons every time I leave the house. I want to walk away, but I’m frozen. I want to breathe, but my lungs are locked tight.

  And then…

  …I feel him.