The golden light of late morning bathed the King's Court in soft warmth. Seraphina stepped in with her usual grace, but there was purpose in her stride today.
Lucian sat at the head of the long, high table, adorned in his layered dark velvet and silver pins. He wasn't wearing a crown, yet somehow, the room still bowed to his presence.
She curtsied low. "Your Majesty," she began, voice clear and respectful. "Thank you deeply for your hospitality. But my sister and I… we were supposed to be at Cranebrook. We would like to begin our journey."
Lucian's expression didn't flinch, didn't stir—not even a twitch. But beneath the calm of his still gaze, there was something unreadable. Like a shift in the air. His aura wrapped itself around her, invisible but thick. Powerful. And Seraphina felt it—she felt it so strongly, it made her heart beat a second slower.
"I see," Lucian finally said, his voice smooth as polished steel. "If that is your wish, I shall see to it that the necessary arrangements are made."
There was no inflection in his tone—no protest, no delay. But the weight of his stare lingered longer than necessary.
Seraphina nodded. "Thank you, Your Majesty."
She turned to leave.
⸻
Moments Later… Just Outside the Court
Seraphina's steps echoed through the quiet hallway until—
"Leaving so soon?"
She gasped. "Your Highness!"
Soren appeared like a shadow with a grin—leaning casually against one of the pillars. His sudden appearance sent a jolt through her chest, and she instinctively clutched her dress to her side.
"You startled me," she managed, voice sharp, trying to regain her posture. Her face fell back into that composed, guarded look she wore like armor around him.
He didn't stop. He walked slowly toward her, deliberately. One step after the other. Each one forcing her to take a step back until her back met the cold stone wall. He turned slightly and pressed his hand beside her head—just firm enough to cage her without hurting her. A thud echoed quietly. Not harsh. Not soft. Just enough.
His face leaned in close. So close their breath met between them, whispering like ghosts.
Seraphina's heart pounded against her ribs. Her breathing hitched. Her eyes, though steady, betrayed the storm underneath—uncertainty, panic, heat. Her fingers gripped the folds of her dress, fighting for something to anchor her.
"Living so soon, honey?" he asked, voice low—barely above a whisper.
It was a question, but something about the way he said it chilled her. His usual flirty smirk had vanished, replaced by something unreadable—intense, quiet, and dangerously calm. His eyes held her like a blade to her throat.
Her lips parted, but no words came. Just a blink. Then another. She didn't know what to say. Her entire body felt tense, like he was reaching inside and stirring something she didn't even know was there.
But it was only for a moment.
That devilish smirk returned. A flicker, then full. He let out a dark chuckle—deep, low, like something that shouldn't have sounded so good.
"We didn't even get to have fun," he murmured. "I suppose I should come see you sometime, then."
That was her cue. Seraphina snapped back to herself and shoved him—not hard, just enough to create space between them.
"Your Highness…" she stammered, her cheeks burning red beneath the weight of his gaze. Her voice was tight with embarrassment. "You shouldn't…"
Her words melted into the heat that flushed her.
Soren reached forward again—not to grab, but to gently brush his thumb over her cheek. His touch was light… almost tender.
"Don't get all flustered," he said, smiling like he hadn't just lit a fire in her chest.
⸻
Later That Evening – The Royal Ball
The palace was transformed.
Golden chandeliers dripped crystal over a grand hall filled with life. Laughter, the clinking of goblets, and the melody of string instruments filled the air. Unlike the formal balls of other kingdoms, this was different. This was Virelia—free, expressive, wild at its heart.
The sisters entered, their gowns gliding behind them like silk rivers. Vivienne wore soft wine-red velvet, her bodice embroidered in dark gold threads. Her curls were pinned elegantly with golden leaves. Seraphina, more modest but still ethereal, wore a pale violet gown that shimmered like starlight with every step she took.
Lucian found them the moment they walked in.
His eyes… they moved over Vivienne like he was trying to memorize her. There was hunger there. And restraint. Like he was holding back something ancient and burning.
"May I have this dance?" he asked, hand outstretched, gaze never leaving hers.
Vivienne curtsied lightly, heart thumping. "Of course, Your Highness."
They took to the center of the dance floor. The music slowed to a delicate rhythm. Their hands found each other. Lucian's arm slid around her waist, pulling her just enough to make her breath catch.
Vivienne's cheeks grew hot, her throat dry. There were people around them—so many eyes—but the way Lucian looked at her… it was as if she were the only one in the room. That gaze stirred something deep in her. A flutter. A pulse. A craving she didn't understand.
"You're beautiful," he whispered close to her ear. His breath teased her skin.
A shiver ran down her spine.
Vivienne's eyes lifted, catching his. She was trapped in them. Those dark grey depths held secrets, and yet they looked at her like she was one of them.
⸻
At the Side of the Hall – Soren & Seraphina
"Come," Soren said, gripping Seraphina's wrist lightly. "I'm getting you something worth your time."
They moved toward the side lounge where a line of fine wines were served from ceramic pots.
Soren glanced at the server. "The best."
The server nodded and poured a deep crimson liquid into a small crystal goblet. Soren handed it to Seraphina with that same teasing smirk.
"I've never had wine before, Your Highness," she said, almost in a whisper.
He tilted his head. "Then tonight's your first. Calm down… I'm right here. Try it."
She hesitated, but curiosity won.
The taste hit her tongue—bittersweet, unfamiliar.
"It's… weird," she said softly.
"More," Soren said, eyes glinting.
She blinked, unsure, but obeyed. She downed the cup in one gulp.
Soren's eyes widened slightly in amused surprise. "Easy," he muttered, watching her like a game he was thoroughly enjoying.
He poured another. And another.
By the third, her cheeks were flushed, her words starting to slur faintly.
⸻
Meanwhile… Deep Below in the Dungeon
Chains rattled. The stench of blood and stone filled the damp air. Elias stood before the rusted cage like a god judging the fallen.
Isabel lay slumped inside, too weak to raise her head. Her lips were dry. Skin pale. Her body… starving.
"You poor thing," Elias said coldly.
It wasn't pity in his voice. It was disgust. Loathing. Not at her—but at the situation. At her weakness. At her silence.
"If you'd just open your mouth," he snarled, slamming his hand against the bars. "If you'd just tell us what we need to know, you might still have some breath left in that rotting body."
No response.
"You're half vampire," he spat. "And yet you betray your own for people who left you—people who watched you burn and still turned their backs."
Still, she didn't look up. She couldn't.
Elias's eyes darkened. "Speak."
Nothing.
The silence mocked him.
He turned and walked away. But not before throwing her a final look—void of sympathy, void of mercy.