One year after Klara's coronation

Night had fallen over Malum, and any light coming in through the arched window of Klara’s chambers was no longer sufficient. Klara lit another candle on the dresser while

the torches on the walls lit by themselves. The presence of the full moon told her to finish getting ready before her guests arrived.

“Can I wear this?” Lottie asked, picking up a small pot of crimson lip balm that Klara had stolen from Abadan’s abandoned quarters.

Klara sat at her dressing table, using a decorative pin with dark emeralds in the shape of a dragon to hold back her wavy black lengths of hair. She had to put her best foot forward when entertaining the highest of Malum’s society, even if she would rather be dressed in her usual belted trousers and light shirt.

“When you’re older there will be plenty of time to use it,” she said, taking the balm from Lottie’s out- stretched hand and applying it to her own lips.

The young lycaon had come to her room after get- ting ready in a flash. It helped that she had someone to bathe and dress her, while Klara refused to be manhandled—and the thought of having to touch her terrified the doomed in the castle. No servant wants their mas- ter to know what they are truly thinking; not that Klara thought of herself as a master. All she expected from those who had joined her service was loyalty, and if they remained true, they had nothing to fear from her.

Lottie pouted, sitting on the edge of Klara’s bed. “But just for tonight—for the gathering.”

“How about I show you how to make the balm instead? Then you can make whatever you like.” Klara didn’t want to argue before the creatures arrived.

“When?” Lottie demanded eagerly. “Can we make it tomorrow? Henny is meant to show me potions anyway, but you can help us.”

Klara knew better than to give her an exact time, though she was pleased that Lottie enjoyed her potions and poisons lessons. When Eve had taught Klara, she couldn’t wait to run from the conservatory; then again, Henrietta probably didn’t throw books at Lottie when she got something wrong.

Henrietta ran the castle and oversaw the rest of the doomed. She had spent many decades in Hell, and Klara had needed all the help she could get once the queens were gone and those loyal to Abadan had been dismissed. The first time they’d met in Hell, Klara had tried to bribe Henrietta with a coin. Henrietta could have taken it and bribed her way out of Hell—and yet she had given the coin to her commander, following the rules even at her own cost. It was the type of loyalty and devotion Klara needed at her side as a new ruler.

“Soon.”

“Soon. You always say soon and then you’re busy— you’re always busy.” Lottie leaned back on the bed of dark silk sheets.

Malum and its responsibilities took Klara away at all hours, and she had learnt early not to make a promise she couldn’t keep. She rose from the dresser and brushed the long blonde fringe from Lottie’s eyes, forcing her ward to look at her and revealing her startling blue eyes. The eyes of a future alpha.

“I wish I could spend every day—every hour— showing you how to make every concoction under the two moons of Malum, but there is a Forest to run. So that you can run freely without being skinned for furs.” Lottie went a little green and Klara cringed internally at her own harsh tone; she had yet to master the art of mothering. Without a role model, all she had was the example of the now-fallen three queens and her father, the King of Hell, to go on. “I’ll try and make more time for us to spend together, okay? But for tonight, can you smile? I’ll even let you stay up past the dinner.”

Bribery was a last resort, but Klara had a masquer- ade to pull off, and she couldn’t have her ward going rogue in front of the elders. Furthermore, she guessed that Lottie would be asleep long before the night ended. If she spent all night worrying about Lottie’s behaviour her hair would threaten to turn blue, which would cer- tainly clash with the silk dress from Eve’s wardrobe she had dyed black and the emerald jewels that had been left in Abadan’s vault for far too long. She didn’t lust for jew- els as Abadan once had, but when society called for it, she figured she might as well indulge in the finer things.

“Promise I can stay for the dancing?” Lottie asked, trying to hide a smile, smoothing her hands over her black trousers.

“Would I go back on my word?” Klara asked, and hated that Lottie looked doubtful. “I’ll do my best,” she reassured her ward.

Lottie had grown in the past year; she had only reached Klara’s hip when they had first met, and now she was passing her waist. Having insisted on a black suit with a white shirt tonight, she looked like a small com- mander of Hell—which made sense considering how she admired Frendall like a brother, even if they weren’t related by blood. Not a day went by when she didn’t ask for him. Since Frendall’s promotion to general upon Lilith’s death, he had been busy training his own legion of demons. Klara understood his duties in Hell, just as he understood that her priorities in Malum made their visits short... and yet oh so sweet.

Klara looked at the purple amethyst crystal around her neck, her secret weapon, and unclipped it. Once it pro- tected me from the ghouls; now it can protect her.

“Come here. I think it’s about time I give you this,” she said.

Lottie shuffled over. Klara held the chain up in front of Lottie, whose eyes went wide in surprise.

“Promise you will look after it?” she asked her ward, who nodded eagerly.

“This is a very special crystal, okay? It will glow when you are in danger, so you know to run or make yourself scarce,” Klara explained, brushing the blonde hair aside and fastening it around Lottie’s small neck.

End of Extract.