Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate-Chapter 355: Daughter of the Crown

She couldn’t believe it. No—she refused to believe it.

Her father was King Valentin of the Eira Kingdom. The strongest of vampires. The most feared monarch in all the realms. The kind of ruler before whom even ancient ones bowed.

No!

A vampire like him didn’t die. He couldn’t die.

Lisbeth spun around, eyes locked on the place where her father had fallen. But a wave of enemies surged toward her, blocking the path. Asvaldur vampires closed in, surrounding her like shadows, their fangs bared and claws raised.

"Father!" she screamed, desperation ripping through her voice.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, cold and blinding. With a guttural cry, she slammed her palms to the ground, freezing everything in a wide radius. The ice spread like a curse—vampires slipped and crashed to the ground, snarling in frustration.

But the attacks didn’t stop.

Father! Please!

Projectiles of blood-magic and dark fire arced through the air, raining down on her. Gritting her teeth, Lisbeth raised shimmering walls of ice.

They sprouted around her like a fortress, but even ice had its limits. Magic dissolved through parts of it, and patches of the frozen ground melted under cursed heat.

The moment an opening appeared, the enemy swarmed her again.

"Lisbeth!" someone cried out.

She didn’t turn.

You can’t die, Father... Not like this. You’re King Valentin of Eira. The great vampire king. You cannot—must not—die!

Lisbeth pushed forward, shoving through the chaos with one arm outstretched. She just needed to touch him. To shake his shoulders, to feel the warmth that might still linger in his skin.

She still had too much to say.

Questions that had haunted her for years now clawed at her throat. Had he ever truly loved her? Had anything she done ever been enough for him?

Maybe it had never mattered.

Maybe—just maybe—he had loved her all along. Maybe he just didn’t know how to show it. He’d done well enough with Lady Maris, hadn’t he? But being a father was different. Harder. Maybe no one had ever taught him how to do it right.

She was close now. So close. Just a few more steps and—

An enemy slammed into her from the side, sending her flying. She hit the ground hard, groaning in pain. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up, eyes flashing.

Rage and grief collided inside her. She raised her hand and launched jagged shards of ice at her attacker—deadly, precise. The largest struck the vampire in the throat. He staggered, choking on blood as his claws scratched helplessly at the frozen spike piercing his neck.

Lisbeth didn’t wait to watch him fall.

"Father!" she screamed again, as if her voice alone could reach across the veil between life and death—as if it could shake his soul back into his body.

As if love and grief and fury could make him undie.

She kept fighting. Again and again. No matter how many enemies surged toward her, she didn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop.

Each time she was thrown back, dragged farther from her father, she forced herself to rise, bloodied and breathless, and sprinted forward again.

She only wanted to mourn him. Just for a moment. But the battlefield offered no mercy. No pause for grief.

Lisbeth had barely caught her breath when another vampire lunged at her. She blocked the blow with a cry of frustration, countering with a sharp arc of ice.

She was a princess—she knew what that meant. Her duty was to fight. To lead.

But she was also a daughter.

And in this moment, more than anything, she just wanted to be with her father. To kneel beside him. To hold his hand. To whisper words she should’ve said long ago.

She prayed, desperately, that he still breathed. That there was still time. He couldn’t die alone. Not him. Not the king who had given everything to his kingdom.

That would be too cruel. Too lonely. Too undeserved.

The poison mist was too strong. It clawed its way back into Lisbeth’s mind, dragging her once more into the nightmare.

But this time—it was different.

She had seen him fall. Her father. Not just some nameless vampire cut down in battle, but King Valentin, the strongest vampire in all of Eira. His collapse had seared itself into her heart, leaving behind a mark no illusion could erase.

So when the nightmare returned—when his image rose from the fog to berate her, to accuse her of being a disappointment, a failure of a daughter—she knew.

That wasn’t him.

That voice, cruel and venomous, wasn’t her father’s. It was a twisted imitation, forged from her deepest fears. A lie conjured by the poison spell.

Around her, the dreamscape shimmered—foggy, warped. But the moment she realized it was a trick, the illusion began to crack. The haze thinned, just slightly. Not enough to free her completely, but enough to glimpse the world beyond.

It felt like she was looking through distorted glass. The nightmare still pressed against her senses, but now she could see it for what it was.

Her grief ran deeper than her fear. And it was that grief—raw, aching, unshakable—that anchored her. It became her shield. The nightmare spell couldn’t consume her, not entirely.

Her sorrow had saved her.

So she kept fighting, striking with precision, unleashing her magic with purpose. Every blow hit its mark. Every surge of power was fueled by heartbreak.

She fought through tears, her vision blurred by the weight of grief—the grief of losing a father, and of losing the chance to stand beside him in his final moments.

If I can’t save you, Father... then I’ll save Eira. I know what this kingdom meant to you. What you bled for. What you built. And I swear—on your name, on your crown—I’ll make sure it stands.

No matter what.

***

There was a battle raging outside—and another raging within. And what was happening inside was just as critical. Just as dangerous.

Riona didn’t know how long the fight had gone on. Minutes? Hours? Time had lost all meaning. Her lungs burned with every breath, her body slick with sweat, but she couldn’t stop. Not for a second.

The creature kept coming.

She didn’t know what it would do if it caught her, and she had no intention of finding out.

"You’re even uglier than I imagined," Riona taunted, leaping nimbly through the air, her boots striking invisible platforms like steps suspended in space.

The creature snarled. It didn’t like the mockery. Didn’t like being toyed with, especially not by a mere vampire.

"What does a bloodsucker like you know?" it hissed.

Riona grinned, fangs gleaming. "Oh, you don’t get it, do you?"

"I’m not just a vampire, demon. I’m a Hybrid. Mom’s a vampire. Dad’s a werewolf." She landed lightly, crouched with energy coiled in her muscles. "And I’m the Blood Moon child."

She rose to her full height, her smirk widening.

"Oh, don’t be scared!" Riona called out, her voice laced with mock sympathy. "It’ll be painless. Maybe. I’ll try."

She paused, letting the grin twist into something darker.

"Or maybe I’ll make it excruciating—a little payback for what you did to my brother."

Power surged through her veins, hot and wild. Flames sparked to life in her hand, swirling into a fireball that pulsed with growing heat and fury as she closed the distance.

The demon barely had time to react.

With a fierce cry, Riona thrust her blazing fist forward, slamming the fireball straight down the demon’s throat.