I reach for the pair of black silk gloves lying neatly on the vanity and slip them on, letting the fabric over my fingers, smooth and cool, as though sealing me into the image of the woman I’m supposed to be. I flex my hands briefly, the silk molding to the contours of my fingers, offering both a barrier and a comfort I’ve come to rely on.
“Ready?” Sera asks, her voice gentler now.
My gloved fingers drift to my wrist, the motion instinctive. They pause. Even through the silk, I feel its absence like a missing piece. My brows draw together.The bracelet.
I turn toward the vanity, where it rests exactly where I left it—out in the open, as if waiting. I lift it carefully and fasten it over my glove, smoothing it into place. The silver catches the light, delicate but certain. When I glance up, I catch her reflection in the mirror. Her smile soft, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Not from sadness. Something warmer, fuller.
I turn and step toward her, wrapping my arms around her before I can change my mind. She exhales softly, surprised, then leans in without hesitation, hugging me tightly. When I step back, I draw a breath, steady and slow, and let it settle the nerves rising beneath my skin. My shoulders straighten.
“I’m ready.”
The corridors stretch before us like a labyrinth. The cool air brushes against my face, carrying with it the faint scent of wax from the candles in their sconces. My steps are steady, the sound of my heels echoing in the vastness of the space around me. Beside me, Sera moves with the same quiet precision, her presence reassuring as we navigate the castle’s cold, silent grandeur.
As the double doors of the dining hall come into view, Sera slows. Her steps falter ever so slightly, and though I don’t turn my head, I feel her gaze linger on me. Then she leans in, her voice low and steady.
“You don’t have to be perfect tonight. Just be yourself.”
A hint of a smirk touches her lips as she pulls back, her eyes gleaming with quiet confidence.
“You don’t have to prove anything to them.”
I clench my jaw and give her a small nod. I don’t trust my voice to answer, but she seems to understand.She always does.
Sera steps away, leaving me vulnerable to the magnitude of the duty ahead. I keep my chin high, my stride unbroken, each step carrying me closer to the inevitable.
The grand doors loom ahead, their intricate carvings telling the stories of a kingdom forged in blood and ambition. Candlelight dances across the surface, illuminating the gilded edges with a faint, almost sinister glow. As I push them open, the low murmur of conversation within fades.
When I enter the dining hall, silence greets me like an old adversary. My father and Jason’s family are already seated, their heads turning as one to watch my approach. Jason rises from his seat as I enter. Naturally, I am the last to arrive. A princess should never wait on others—it would be impolite.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” Jason says, kind and warm, though there’s a stiffness in his posture that betrays an inner apprehension.
“I’m glad you approve,” I reply with a faint smile. My gaze lingers on him as I study the quiet conflict beneath his composed exterior.
My father chuckles, his deep voice commanding as he pours himself another glass of blood.
“You’ll find that my sweet here rarely requires anyone’s approval, Jason. That’s what makes her so...effective.”
Jason’s father leans back slightly, his eyes sweeping over me with something between amusement and disdain. “Effective, perhaps. But I can’t help but wonder how...revealingsuch boldness can be. The court will certainly be talking about her for days.”
“They already do,” I say lightly, lowering myself into the seat across from Jason. “Though I doubt it’s always kind.”
“Kindness is overrated,” my father remarks, swirling his goblet lazily. “Power commands respect, and respect lasts far longer.”
Jason’s father smiles faintly, his tone clipped as he responds.
“Respect may last longer, Clyde, but propriety ensures stability. Too much... openness can invite speculation. One must be cautious of what’s put on display.”
My father leans back, a grin spreading across his face, his tone taking on a mockingly casual air.
“Propriety? Speculation? You sound like someone who’s never attended one of our parties, Striden. Let me tell you something about vampires—our court isn’t built on shame or modesty. Skin, indulgence, and a bit of debauchery? That’s just a good old-fashioned evening in our court.”
The table falls quiet for a beat, his blunt humor cutting through the tension like a knife. Striden’s expression falters slightly, but he doesn’t respond, clearly caught off guard. My father presses on, his grin turning sharp.
“If you’re planning to join this family, you’ll need to learn to loosen that tight collar of yours. We live longer than you humans do—it’s only right we enjoy it. Passion keeps us alive, Striden. You should try it sometime.”
Jason shifts slightly across from me, his lips pressing into a faint smile, clearly trying to suppress his enjoyment of his father’s discomfort. His gaze meets mine, and the humor dancing in his eyes catches me off guard. I quickly look away, focusing on my goblet as though the rim of the glass holds some profound secret.
Lady Elenor clears her throat delicately.
