"It's been raining all day, Mother."
The Queen of Availes narrowed her eyes at her daughter.
"Eloise, don't tell me you're using the weather as another excuse to skip the soiree."
Disappointment clouded her voice, but beneath her royal poise, something nagged at her thoughts. A worry she had brushed aside too many times before.
Did Eloise not want to marry?
Was she determined to become a spinster? Surely not. But why did she always avoid social functions — especially those tied to marriage prospects?
"Eloise."
"Yes, Mother?"
Eloise glanced up from her seat, her face soft, her voice calm.
The Queen stared, regal and radiant. Adorned in flowing gold, her wrists sparkled with finely crafted jewelry. Her hair, styled into a crown of intricate pleats, shimmered with diamond-studded pins — especially the jade brooch passed down for generations.
Despite her elegance, her face twisted in subtle disapproval.
Oh heavens, the Queen thought. How do I ask this without sounding like a failure of a mother?
She inhaled deeply. Her hands clenched, then relaxed. Her lids fell shut for a moment as she fought the rising tide of worry.
"Do you not want to get married?"
There was silence.
Then, Eloise responded slowly. "I do... but Mother, may I speak?"
Still seated, she tilted her head toward the couch where her mother sat, poised and powerful — everything Eloise was expected to become.
The Queen gave a small nod.
"Of course, my darling. I may be Queen, but I am your mother first."
Eloise hesitated. Her throat tightened.
"Mother... I... I do not wish to..."
She faltered. If she said it, there would be no taking it back.
"Out with it, Elo. You're beginning to worry me."
Taking a deep breath, Eloise finally said the words she had buried for years.
"Mother, I was hoping you could speak to Father for me. I do not wish to get married... not yet."
Her voice wavered, but she continued, desperate to be understood.
"It's not what you think. I just want to find myself. To do something that matters. Maybe travel... maybe take an adventure. When I return, I promise to marry. But I want it to be for love — not politics, not duty. Please, Mother. This would make me truly happy."
A long pause followed.
Then...
"Enough."
The Queen's voice was tight. Controlled. Her regal composure beginning to crack.
"I've had enough of your childishness. I'll alert the maids and seamstress immediately—"
"I DO NOT WISH TO GET MARRIED!"
The words exploded from Eloise like a dam breaking. She shut her eyes tightly, bracing herself for the storm.
It came instantly.
"You—!"
The air thickened. Heat rolled through the room like a furnace. Queen Amasha's face twisted in fury. Her lips pressed into a cold, rigid line. Her voice rose like a crescendo in an opera hall.
"I KNEW IT!"
The shout echoed through the chamber walls.
Outside, the maids froze.
"What has gone wrong with the Queen?" whispered Anna, Eloise's personal maid. She and the others scrambled to disappear from sight.
Inside, Eloise tried to calm her mother.
"Please, Mother. Let me explain—"
"Hush, Eloise Blakethornt. Not another word from you!"
Amasha inhaled deeply, grounding herself in the silence. Her rage cooled only slightly — enough to restore her icy demeanor.
But a dangerous thirst surfaced.
Blood.
She hadn't felt such an urge in decades. That was how angry she was.
"Your father and I will choose your match. You'll attend the soiree and behave accordingly."
Eloise's heart sank.
Her voice — her plea — had been crushed under tradition. Under fear.
Fear that no one, not even royalty, believed a woman had the right to choose adventure over duty.
"But Mother—"
"Silence!"
Her voice cut sharp, like a blade through silk.
Eloise felt the sting of tears as her throat tightened. Cold sweat formed on her skin as her knees buckled. Royals had everything — wealth, power...
But not freedom.
She envied her brother, Dante. Brave enough to abandon the palace. To live where he pleased. To choose.
The Queen turned away, ignoring her daughter's soft sobs. She told herself it was just a phase. Eloise would understand in time.
There was no room for dreams.
Not for women.
Not for royals.
In the corridor, Queen Amasha met Anna.
"Make sure she's dressed and ready for the soiree in an hour."
Her voice was sharp, eyes cold.
Anna bowed low. "Yes, Queen Mother."
Just then, Belinda — the Queen's own maid, a woman in her forties — approached with a cup of blood tea. She looked older than the Queen, though Amasha's pureblood vampire lineage preserved her beauty eternally.
"Are you daft?"
The Queen's voice snapped like a whip. "Of course peasants are daft."
"I'm sorry, my Queen," Belinda whispered.
"Who said you could speak?"
Snatching the cup with disgust, Amasha hissed, "You dare offer me tea while I'm still standing? I should have you beheaded for your insolence."
Belinda dropped to her knees, forehead pressed to the marble. She trembled, silent, as the Queen pressed a sharp heel into her hand — enough to draw blood, but not enough to kill.
"You humans forget your place," Amasha muttered. "We own the world you cling to."
She turned to a guard.
"Take her to the dungeon. No food. No water. Until I say so."
"Yes, my Queen."
********************
"A dead body was found hanging upside down on a tree that is close to the stone lake" a young man reported to a taller man with crimson red eyes. The taller man with red eyes stared at him with a grim expression on his face. His jaw clenched and his hands formed a strong fist.
A lot of emotions were swirling through him but he needed to remain calm. "Are you sure it's just one body?" He asked while narrowing his eyes as he glared at the shorter mans who was also tall. His demeanor was always brooding and he emitted a dangerous aura whenever he was concentrating on work. His gaze was lethal and could burn anything on his path.
"Yyy ...eee...ss .. sir-"
the human response while shifting on his feet. He suddenly felt hot and his breath hitched in his throat. Even though he had worked with his superior for over a year, he still scared him to his wits. "Kalus, go inform Langley that we would leave the council grounds in two hours. We need to head to the black market . We have work there wit his department "
His superior spoke with an air of authority. Before he made his way to walk in to the faded cream coloured building of the council. Walking with precision in ever stride, he placed hands on his pocket and squared his shoulders, looking lazily at the other council men who walked in and out of the building. Some carrying files while others carried wooden boxes that contained scrolls.
"Dante!" A voice called him.
He didn't turn around to see who it was. He didn't need to. But despite not turning around, he paused from walking and waited for the person to catch up. And soon an elderly man who held a pipe in the corner of his mouth and a file in his hands, stood in front of Dante. His eyes sharp even despite his age. His demeanor simple and quiet but nothing like what he really was. Thought Dante. The man before him was a very cunning man, who liked to set people up.
"Dante... It's good to see you. Elder Caswell said. He looked quite excited as he stated.
What evil was he cooking this is time? He thought in his mind.
"Oh I wish I can say the same to you elder"
Dante fired. The elder looked taken back by the brutal report, but he quickly masked it and smiled broadly.
"Of course you can Dante, we are family" the older man said in a calm tone while masking the burning fury inside him.
"And of course we are nothing like family. So if you would excuse me... I have work to do" he gave a mock bow and gave a smile that didn't reach his eyes. Then he walked into the chambers of the council, while leaving the old man gasping in shock and disbelief.