The Queen of Thieves: The Line of Kings Trilogy Book Three by Craig R. Saunders, Craig Saunders

be
trusted?
                She took her nails
from his neck.
                No, of course he
could not be trusted.
                She looked at the
woman - maybe just a girl, still, laid out on the table before Crale, her
life's blood leaking from her neck. She sighed again. There was nothing she
could do for the girl.
                'I have need of you,'
she said, wishing there was some other way.
                'Ah, so,' he said,
his tones all oil and smoke, 'My lady needs one of my particular...talents...'
                'Mind your pride,
Shawford, and remember who I am.'
                Shawford coughed.
'Indeed. Indeed.'
                A scream came from
the second floor of the mouldering estate house. The glamours that worked on
the human food that came through the door had no effect on Selana. She could
see that the estate, once grand, was crumbling around the vampires' ears. No
doubt their little brood would soon move on to pastures new. Vampires could
never stay in the same place for long.
                'The lady of the
house?' enquired Selana.
                'Yes, she is
entertaining,' he said.
                Selana had to remind
herself why she was here. It was a nest of vampires. What had she expected?
                Maybe she'd thought
their thirst to have abated before now. But either way...it wasn't her problem.
                He was. Shawford
Crale. Full of evil long before he was turned. Long before he became a family man. And yet because of his peculiar talents, that of mage and blooddrinker, he
was one of the few people in the country she would count powerful enough to
withstand a Hierarchy mage.
                He was her problem,
but he knew who the true power on Sturma was, and it was her. Time to remind
him, perhaps.
                With a swift stroke
from her sharp nails she cut the young girl's throat from one side to the
other. Blood and air fountained across the room, splashing the filthy table,
the threadbare carpets, the crooked chairs.
                Shawford Crale mopped
blood from his face with a handkerchief. 'Really, my lady, that was uncalled
for.'
                She drove one of her
perfect nails through Crale's cheek and pulled him to his feet.
                'Fetch the Crown of
Kings, Shawford, and leave tonight.'
                Crale winced, still
perfectly able to feel pain. He managed a nod.
                'You will be meeting
friends on the road north, and soon,' said the Queen, letting Crale go. The
wound in Crale's cheek healed almost instantly. 'I have need of one with your
particular talents...and perhaps predilections, too...'
                'Ooh, I'm practically
salivating,' said Shawford, licking his lips with an unseemly tongue, but with
a little more reservation in his voice, this time.
                Not enough, though ,
thought Selana. Her fist flicked out and she pierced that oily tongue between
two of her long nails in an instant.
                'You are to have
three companions on the road. Meet them at the Pickled Hare tavern in no more
than three days time. Night time will suffice. No harm will come to them.
Understood?'
                ''eth'' said
Shawford.
                'Good,' said the
Queen. 'Set out tonight. I'm sure the lady of the house will find her own
diversions while you are absent.'
                Shawford, his tongue
back in his mouth, grinned. 'I'm sure she will.'
                'And your daughter?'
enquired Selana solicitously. She had to admit, she had a soft spot for the
little girl. She, too, was a savage, but through no fault of her own. How old
was the child now? She might very well be fifty years of age, though she would
always look like a mere girl of ten years.
                'Fine and well,