“In the bedroom, in his dreams, in every fleeting moment, he may be yours. But at the end of the day, hebelongsto me. My father owns his loyalty, and I own everything else. Be careful, darling, not to let your strings get tangled. Puppets tend to break when they fall underfoot.”
I release her hand and step past her without another glance. She doesn't follow. Doesn't speak. Just stands there—still, silent—her boldness cracking beneath my words, though not yet fully shattered. The venom in my voice clings to the air, suffocating and final.
The further I walk down the corridor, the more my heart and body ache. When I reach my chambers, I shut the door behind me with a heavy thud. The sound reverberates through the room, drowning out the distant music and chatter of the court. My trembling fingers fumble with the lock before I lean back against the door, exhaling a long, shaky breath.
I sink to the cold stone floor, pressing my palms against it, letting the chill seep into my skin. My legs feel weak beneath me, and I feel as though I might drown under the tidal wave of emotions the evening has wrought. Lies, betrayal, and the endless charade swirl in my mind, refusing to quiet.
Then, faintly, footsteps approach from the other side of the door. They stop just beyond it, the silence broken only by the soft rhythm of breathing. My breath catches as I wait, internally willing whoever it is to leave. But then, the knock comes.
“Lailah…” Jason’s voice is soft, laden with desperation. “Please, let me explain.”
The sound of his voice twists something deep inside me. Anger. Resentment. Disdain. I don’t answer. I can’t. Instead, I press my hands harder against the cold floor, grounding myself in its unyielding solidity as his voice falters.
“Lailah… please…”
The words trail off into silence, and I let myself believe he’s gone. But the knock comes again, louder this time, insistent.
“Let me explain.”
My hand drifts toward the door, my fingertips brushing the smooth wood, but I hesitate. A soft murmur slips from my lips, and a swirl of dark mist unfurls from my fingertips. The shadows rise, twisting and coiling like smoke, forming a barrier. It is pure darkness, swallowing every sound.
The silence that follows is immediate, absolute. The absence ofhis pleading feels almost jarring, the quiet ringing in my ears like a melody I don’t recognize. But then I exhale slowly, the quiet wrapping around me like a comforting shroud. For the first time tonight, I feel something close to peace.
I rise from the floor, my body heavy with exhaustion. I fumble for the delicate clasps of my dress, undoing them one by one until the fabric pools at my feet. The jewelry follows, discarded in a heap of clattering metal and jewels on the ground. Sliding beneath the cool silk sheets of my bed, I let the sensation of the fabric anchor me to the stillness.
Staring up at the darkened ceiling, the evening’s events replay in my mind, vivid and unrelenting. The ache in my chest refuses to ease, the memory of Casper flickering like a flame in the back of my mind. Tonight was chaos. Swept from Casper’s warmth into Jason’s arms, all I felt was anger—anger at the lies, the betrayal, the farce everyone around me insists on upholding. My bones ache from the weight of having to play my part perfectly.
I felt with Casper something I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in years—safe. That feeling, so foreign and fleeting, filled me with shame. Shame because it wasn’t Jason who gave it to me. Shame because I had let myself lean into it, even for just a moment. Shame because now, lying here, I am questioning everything—my duty, my loyalty, and my own heart.
Casper’s words linger in my mind, heavy and haunting. It’s as if he knew—as if he’s always known—about Jason, about my father’s plans, about the burden I carry. His gaze tonight had held something I couldn’t place—understanding, perhaps, or something darker. Whatever it was, it unsettled me in a way I don’t want to admit.
Jason, by contrast, felt like a stranger. His touch was cold, his gaze distant, his presence empty. He played his part, as I played mine, but beneath it all, there was nothing. I clutch the pillow tightly, willing myself to be calm, but the questions refuse to stop.
What am I doing?
The shame clings to me like a shadow, as does the memory of thatfleeting safety. My breath hitches as I think of what it might mean. And yet, amid the chaos, it is the memory of Casper’s dagger that cuts through unexpectedly.
I let out a muted, bitter laugh. Of all the mysteries surrounding me, of course that’s the one my mind clings to. It feels absurd, but perhaps that’s why it stands out—it’s something tangible, something I can define in a world of unanswered questions. I sink back into the mattress, the silence enveloping me. My thoughts swirl, refusing to settle, fragments of memories and stories from the library spinning in a maddening dance. My body feels heavy, each breath slowing as the exhaustion I’ve ignored for too long finally catches up to me.
As my eyes close, the story comes alive in my mind, unbidden. A forest, vast and ancient, stretches endlessly before me. The trees stand tall, their roots tangled together in quiet solidarity. Dappled light filters through the canopy, painting the mossy floor in hues of green and gold. There is peace here, a quiet harmony that feels sacred, untouched.
I picture the witches walking through the woods, their hands glowing faintly with magic, their soft laughter carried on the breeze. Vampires linger in the shadows, their movements elegant, their watchful eyes a silent promise of protection. The balance between them feels natural, unshakable, like the rhythm of the seasons or the cycle of the moon.
The whispers of the story wrap around me, pulling me deeper into the dream. The witches weave their spells into the very earth, their magic thrumming in the air. The vampires, strong and unyielding, guard the boundaries, scanning the edges of the forest. Together, they create a sanctuary—a place where trust exists without question, where power doesn’t breed fear, but respect. The woods grow more vivid, the sounds and smells sharpening in my mind. I can almost feel the coolness of the earth beneath my bare feet, the dampness of the air as it clings to my skin. The trees seem alive, their branches swaying gently as though in conversation.
But as the vision deepens, it begins to shift, the golden lightdimming, the whispers growing quieter. The woods blur, the harmony unraveling into silence. A pang of loss tugs at me, but I am too far gone to reach for it, my body surrendering fully to sleep. The last image lingers, soft and fleeting—the witches and vampires, side by side, their silhouettes fading into the forest.
12
LAILAH
The library is silent, bathed in the soft, golden light of early morning. Dust motes drift lazily in the air, undisturbed by the stillness around me. My fingers trail along the spines of ancient books, their cracked leather and faded titles whispering of forgotten secrets. This is where I find myself after a tumultuous night, the solace of these towering shelves my only refuge.
I had slept briefly, no more than a fleeting couple of hours, before restlessness sank its claws into me, dragging me from the comfort of my bed. Now, as the castle slumbers beneath the cover of daylight, I linger in the one place that feels truly mine.
I’m not supposed to be here—not because of any official rule, but because wandering the castle during daylight hours is unheard of. The vampires who rule these halls, including my father, are creatures of the night. The day belongs to no one, left in the uneasy hands of human guards my father barely trusts. I know the risks of slipping out during these hours. Clyde would not be pleased to know I’m wandering while his chosen guards sleep. But I can’t bring myself to care. The silence here is different—a peaceful absence rather than the ominous quiet of the night. I let myself sink into it, the weight ofmy father’s shadow and the world’s expectations melting away as I wander the rows of books, searching for some form of escape.
Dressed in black pants and a loose tunic, I make no effort to look the part of a princess. The heavy gowns, the corsets, the meticulously arranged hair—they hold no place in this sanctuary. My hair falls in unkempt, blood-red waves down my back, a far cry from the intricate styles Sera insists on perfecting. She would die if she saw me now—I can almost hear her lashing out a lecture in my mind. Yet here, in the quiet expanse of the library, I’m not the princess, not the weapon my father has meticulously shaped. I am just Lailah, alone among the books, free from the duty to which I’m bound.
