The Red Queen Fantasy Series

“Who’s there?” she called, her voice shaky.

The figure tilted its head sharply, the motion unnaturally quick, like an animal catching a scent. When it finally moved, it did so with fluid, jerky
strides, as though each step was calculated yet unpredictable. Its clawed hands rested at its sides, the tension in its posture radiating a silent menace, its unseen gaze making Dazel feel as though, observed by a predator.

“What do you want?” Dazel asked, her voice rising with fear as she stepped back. The figure stopped abruptly, its mask catching the light. Then, without a sound, it turned and disappeared into the shadows of the hedges, leaving Dazel standing frozen, her heart pounding in her chest.

When she broke her fear she rushed to the chambers inside the castle, her nerves were frayed. Andros, sitting near the free and reading a letter,
looked up as she entered. His expression immediately softened with concern, noticing her frantic demeanor, “Dazel,” he said, standing. “What happened?”

She hesitated, unsure how to put what she had seen into words. “There was someone in the garden,” she said finally, “A figure in crimson,
wearing a mask. It didn’t… it didn’t feel human, Andros. Its movements were wrong.”

Andros’s brow furrowed as he crossed the room to her, his expression serious.

“The Red Serpents, the same people that attacked us on the road…” he said, his tone grim. “They are a cult, Dazel. Fanatics who cling to the myths of the Red Queen, though the truth of her is long gone. They use fear and theatrics to make themselves seem more than they are, but they’re human. Dangerous, yes, but human. It is odd they are so close to the castle… they’ve never been this brave before.”

Dazel nodded slowly, his words reassuring but not enough to dispel her unease. “Why would they come here?”

“They thrive on chaos,” Andros said. “The closer they get to the castle, the more uncertainty they hope to sow I suppose. But I will not let them
harm you. You’re safe here, Dazel. I will see to it.”

Though she wanted to believe him, the memory of the figure’s strange, predatory movements lingered in her mind. She forced a small smile.
“Thank you, Andros.”

“You should rest,” Andros said gently. “This day has been heavy enough.”

Dazel nodded, deciding instead to seek comfort in the bath chamber. A warm soak might help ease her frayed nerves.

The bath chamber was a sanctuary of marble and candlelight. The deep stone tub was filled with steaming water, the scent of lavender rising in
soft tendrils of steam. Dazel let her dress fall away as she stepped into the bath, setting her bath robe close, sinking into the warmth with a sigh of relief.

For a brief moment, the tension in her body began to ease. She closed her eyes, leaning back against the edge of the tub as the water lapped
gently at her skin.

But the peace didn’t last.

A faint sound—a whisper of fabric, the slightest creak of a floorboard—made her eyes snap open. Her breath hitched as she saw the crimson figure standing in a shadowed corner of the bath chamber, the cold serpent mask catching the flickering candlelight.

“You,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

The figure stepped closer to her, its movements deliberate and unnervingly graceful. Its hands gleamed longer nails as if claws painted red, they caught the light as the figure tilted its head sharply to the side.

“What color is the egg?” the figure demanded, its voice deep, low and distorted beneath the mask.

Dazel’s heart pounded as she scrambled to cover herself with her arms.

“I… I don’t know what you are talking about.”

The figure took another step closer, its claws gleaming reflections of the candlelight.

“The egg,” it repeated, its tone sharp and threatening. “What color does it bear?”

“I don’t know!” Dazel cried, her voice breaking.

The figure moved with shocking speed, crossing the distance in an instant. Before Dazel could react, its clawed hand shot out, gripping her
neck with an other worldy strength. It pulled her with ease slightly from the tub towards its cold steel mask.

“Do not lie to me,” it hissed, its tone low and menacing. “I will return tonight. And when I do, you will answer.”

Tears streamed down Dazel’s cheeks as she choked out a response. “I swear—I don’t know!”

The figure’s grip tightened for a moment before it released her, stepping back with a sharp, animalistic movement. Without another word, it
turned and vanished out the window, leaving Dazel trembling and gasping for air holding her squeezed neck in pain.