We had several children together.” Precious darlings whose faces I could still clearly see in my mind. I skimmed over them. “Some of them lived, some died as was common for the time.” The grief I’d suffered at their early demise still stung hundreds of years later. Unbeknownst to all but my queen, I kept a watchful eye over my few remaining descendants who’d changed their names to escape my legacy of murder and blood. Too bad for them, they still carried my genes.

“Did they know of your change?”

I shook my head vehemently. “No. Once I was turned, I prohibited my children from visiting me.” Not out of shame for my newfound status, but because I feared losing control and eating them.

“So how were you changed? Who did it?”

“It happened in the year of 1600. My husband was away at war, again.” He’d spent most of our marriage elsewhere, the ideal situation for an arranged marriage like ours. “I was in charge of the castle and the defense of our lands. The last night of my humanity, a storm was brewing and the household had just settled itself for the night when a knock sounded.” It was so easy to slip back in my memories to the moment that changed me forever. I could still hear the echoing, ominous thud as someone braved the wicked weather to knock at my door.

My servants huddle in the common room, their fearful eyes trained on the main door to the hall. Dressed in my sleep wrap, I chide them for being foolish and superstitious. I open the door, the coolness of the night and the dampness of the pouring rain making me shiver. At first I see nothing, but a crack of lightning illuminates the courtyard. I let out a small scream at the sudden looming figure of a stranger dressed in a heavy cloak.

His low voice emerges from the depth of his hood. “I apologize for the lateness, fair mistress; however, my carriage has broken down. If I might humbly request a bed for the night, in the morn I shall depart, seeking aide in repairing my carriage.”