In the blink of an eye, it has been one month.
One month since I became a vampire.
One month since my training with Cassian and Silas began.
Three weeks since I last properly spoke to the king.
I spend most of my time wandering the castle corridors—either on my way to the library or to Silas' laboratory. Occasionally to the training grounds. Occasionally just… wandering.
Is he avoiding me?
No. That would be ridiculous.
I am a nobody. Why would a king avoid me?
Unless he is unwell.
But that is absurd too. He is the strongest vampire in Greyhaven. Illness does not dare touch creatures like him.
"Why do you keep spacing out?" Cassian asks.
I blink and realize he has dropped the scroll I was supposed to be studying.
"Oh. Nothing. It's just that my mind has been all over the place," I say, chuckling lightly.
He watches me carefully.
"Why is your mind all over the place? Is there something you're not telling me?"
I raise a brow. "Should I tell you everything?"
His face grows more serious.
"Are you hiding something from me?"
When did we become that close?
"I'm not hiding anything. There is nothing to hide."
He steps back. Then forward. Pulls a chair and turns mine to face him fully.
"You know you can tell me anything. I won't judge you. I will support any decision you make. That is what sires are for. I am supposed to guide you. Protect you. Keep you from hurting yourself."
"Oh," I say slowly. "That is what sires are for. So being a sire also means warning me to keep my distance from the king?"
His expression goes neutral. Calculating.
"I did not tell you to avoid the king," he says carefully. "I told you to avoid his attention."
"And why?"
"He has a lot of enemies."
"How would he have enemies? He is loved by all."
"He is not loved by all," Cassian says quietly. "You think we don't hear the things humans say about vampires? We hear everything."
His jaw tightens.
"You may consider this heightened hearing a blessing. It is not. I hear everything they say about me. About him. Before me. Behind my back."
His voice lowers.
"Darian is my cousin. I swore to take care of him. And I will."
"What does that have to do with me?"
"He has been different since you arrived. Since that trial of yours."
I blink. "Different?"
"I would expect recklessness from Silas," Cassian continues, "but not from you."
"Recklessness? Silas looks like the one who doesn't like me. I didn't know my sire considers me a burden."
"I did not call you a burden, Isolde."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I am saying," he says carefully, "do not start something you cannot finish."
"I am not starting anything."
"You barely do anything," he scoffs. "The king has never given anyone an audience the way he has given you. He has never personally trained someone who is not blood-related. Even his relatives are handed to guards."
He leans closer.
"Only Silas and I are privileged enough to duel him—and still lose."
I swallow.
"He does not fight publicly. He was sheltered all his life. But do you know when he first went to war?"
I shake my head.
"Eight."
I freeze.
"For purebloods, age is different. We mature faster until we stop aging entirely. He was eight when he fought witches in battle. He watched brutality unfold in front of him. He wielded a sword to defend his parents."
Cassian's voice grows heavy.
"He could not save them. But he killed the one who caused their deaths."
Silence stretches between us.
"That burden never left him," Cassian says. "Many here believe he does not deserve the throne. He might spend eternity proving that he does."
"So what are you afraid of?" I whisper.
"That you will make it harder."
My chest tightens.
"I am just anyone."
"You are not listening," he says. "We cannot risk this. Whatever this is."
"We have known each other for one month, Cassian. One month. And you are already assuming things. There is nothing going on. There will never be anything going on between the king and me."
He studies my face.
"Let it be so."
He stands.
"We will continue tomorrow. In the meantime, locate Silas. He still has much to teach you."
"Okay, Your Majesty."
"I told you to stop calling me that."
I smile faintly and walk away.
Walking gives me time to think.
He is overthinking.
We barely know each other. We barely know ourselves.
It is all in his head.
Right?
I head toward the laboratory.
Learning pharmacology under Silas has been exhausting, but I cannot deny it—I have learned more in three weeks than I did in my entire human life.
Maybe if the king spars with me again, I could show him a trick or two.
I smile at the thought.
Then freeze.
Why did I think of that?
I laugh at myself.
By the time I reach the lab door, I hear voices inside.
"You don't understand. This will get us killed."
"It won't," Silas replies. "We just have to be careful."
I pause.
"It could save generations of vampires," he continues. "And humans."
Humans?
I remember Cassian's stealth lessons. The precise way to step so no sound escapes.
Only highly trained vampires could detect it.
Silas is trained.
But he is distracted.
I move closer.
"This is huge."
"That is why we keep it between us," Silas says sharply. "Any additional ears will cause problems."
I stiffen.
"You know we are the reason rogues disappear," he continues. "We create what keeps Greyhaven safe. But this… this could do more."
"More how?"
"It could improve human healing. Strengthen vampires. Imagine fighting for days without fatigue. Imagine humans standing beside us in war, not hiding behind castle walls."
"Do humans even know there is war?"
Silence.
"Trust me," Silas says.
I decide I have heard enough.
I push the door open casually.
Everything goes silent.
A cloaked figure stands inside. The hood shadows his face. He looks human.
Silas looks… startled.
"Cassian dismissed me early," I say lightly.
"He did?" Silas asks. "I thought he enjoyed your sessions."
"Did you argue?" he adds with a smirk.
"We did not."
"You did."
"Isolde—"
"We did not."
He laughs.
I turn to the cloaked figure. "Good evening. How may I help you?"
"You may not," Silas cuts in smoothly. "He was just leaving."
The man gives me one long look before slipping out.
Mysterious much.
We return to the worktable.
The skeleton flowers sit in their pots—delicate, pale, waiting.
"When wet," Silas says, "they turn transparent."
"They are beautiful."
"They are fragile," he corrects.
"Would you tell me what you and Cassian argued about?" he asks.
"We did not argue."
"You are biting your lip."
I stop.
"Do you think the king is too friendly with me?" I ask suddenly.
He laughs.
"Friendly? Darian?."
"Cassian says he is different."
"Well… he did personally train you."
"Yes."
"He rarely concerns himself with servant duties."
"So you think…?"
"I think," Silas says lightly, "it is a matter of time before he returns to his usual nonchalant self."
Relief floods me.
"Exactly."
"Well, well, well."
"What?"
"Nothing."
He claps once. "We have an event next week. The king's garden needs new additions."
"Oh."
"That is why we grew these."
We carry the skeleton flower to the garden.
The space is breathtaking—willows, crimson blossoms, pale roses.
Silas digs carefully and plants the skeleton flower among the rest.
It looks small.
Transparent.
Different.
Like it reflects all the colors around it because it has none of its own.
It reminds me of myself.
Unique. Out of place. Trying to fit.
As I stand, I feel it—
Someone watching.
I glance toward the chapel windows.
A shadow.
Strange.
"You succeeded in creating another flower," a familiar voice says.
I turn.
The king.
He addresses Silas, not me.
"Yes," Silas says. "Surprisingly, she is not the worst student."
The king spares me one brief glance before looking away.
"Any other flowers?"
"Spider lilies," I say before I can stop myself.
He looks at me.
"They are not actual spiders," I clarify quickly. "They are beautiful."
"Unique?" he says quietly.
"Yes."
"I will trust Silas."
And he leaves.
Three words to me.
That is all.
Did I do something?
Silas watches me carefully.
"Are you two quarrelling?"
"Is it quarrel with Isolde day?"
He laughs.
"We will pretend I did not ask. Now—where do spider lilies grow?"
"I… do not know."
He facepalms.
"And I thought you were becoming useful."
"Hey!"
"To the lab," he says dramatically.
I follow him, shaking my head.
He is insufferable.
But at least with him, I always know where I stand.
Unlike with the king.
We spent over three hours buried in scrolls.
Spider lilies thrive in heavy sunlight—sometimes moderate, sometimes excessive—but always bright. Their soil must be nearly drained. Poor in nutrients. Almost neglected. Too much fertilizer, and they rot.
We circled possible zones on the Greyhaven map where such conditions might exist.
Silas suggested inventing them instead.
I rejected the idea immediately.
"Inventing them will take weeks," I argued. "Trial and error alone would outlast the event."
He sighed dramatically. "You are becoming reasonable. How unfortunate."
"So we search," I concluded. "Flower shops. Outer zones. How hard could it be?"
Silas glanced at the window. "Look at the time. Off to your quarters. I require sleep."
"You're chasing me away without wages."
"You are learning from me. That is your wage."
I laughed.
And left.
Vampires do not sleep the way humans do.
We do not drift into dreams.
We lie still. We wait. We exist in quiet awareness until morning arrives.
When the sun rose, Silas was already waiting at the castle gates.
We took a carriage into Greyhaven.
The first flower shop?
A disaster.
The human woman took one look at us and locked her door.
When we entered anyway, her family trembled behind the counter.
Her eyes pleaded: Leave.
We did.
The second shop was owned by a vampire.
"Spider lilies?" she repeated. "Yes. I have plenty."
My joy nearly embarrassed me.
She led us to the back garden.
A sea of red spider lilies swayed in the light.
"How do you keep so many?" I asked. "No one buys them?"
"People want roses. Lotuses. Popular things." She shrugged gently. "But beauty does not need an audience to survive."
I liked her instantly.
We bought three pots for the event.
And one extra for myself.
Back at the castle, we experimented.
Too much water — they wilted.
Too little sun — they dulled.
Just enough sunlight, barely nourished soil — they thrived.
For days we rotated them into the brightest corners of the castle, giving them only drops of water.
The day before the event, we transferred them to the garden.
That is when I learned something new.
The event would not take place inside the castle.
It would take place in the garden.
Now the sudden focus on flowers made sense.
Torches were mounted between willow trees. Lanterns hung from branches. Long tables draped in silk. Music rehearsed softly in the background.
A replica throne stood beneath the largest willow.
The garden transformed into something out of a human fairy tale.
Mortals and immortals with instruments, some checking tunes others arranging the instruments and chairs to remain comfortable,
An earth princess fantasy. That's what it seemed like, it had everything beautiful and surreal.
All servants were summoned by the head servant — a woman I had never seen before. She assigned duties efficiently.
"I have no assignment?" I asked.
"You are exempt," she replied curtly. "By order of Cassian."
Scoffs followed.
Whispers.
A faint hiss of "whore" from somewhere behind me.
I ignored it.
Rest sounded wonderful.
Until Silas appeared.
"The spider lilies are thriving. We must plant the remaining pots."
Including the one I bought for myself.
So I carried them to various corners of the garden.
Transparent skeleton flowers. Crimson spider lilies.
The garden looked alive.
The day of the event arrived.
Carriages rolled in one after another.
Purebloods stepped out dressed in shimmering silk and satin. Jewelry glittered beneath torchlight. Crimson eyes gleamed.
Servants wore lighter attire—pale, elegant. I was not exempt from that.
When the king arrived, conversation softened.
He wore regal black and silver. Confident. Composed.
Handsome.
No one looking at him would imagine the eight-year-old boy who witnessed war.
Humans were present too—wealthy patrons invited for alliance and spectacle.
Food lined the tables. Humans ate.
Vampires did not.
Some humans had come willingly… dressed beautifully… offering themselves for controlled feeding.
Not death.
Just indulgence.
I wish I could unsee certain things.
But I cannot.
I assisted with serving drinks.
Human women openly admired the king.
Even vampires watched him carefully.
Everyone wanted him.
I wondered why.
I did not see Silas anywhere.
Cassian sat close to the king. They appeared deep in conversation.
A toast was announced.
"To our beloved king, King Darian, who keeps Greyhaven prosperous and memorable."
Applause followed.
Music swelled.
Laughter rose.
Noise thickened.
It became too much.
I slipped away to the training grounds for quiet.
The stars were sharp tonight.
I traced constellations with my eyes.
Counted them.
Footsteps approached.
I turned.
Cassian.
"I'm sorry," he said. "About the library."
"You already said that."
"I cannot dictate who you speak to. I can only look out for you. And for him."
"I understand."
"Are we alright?"
"There was never a problem."
He smiled faintly.
"You should return before someone notices your absence."
"I doubt anyone noticed."
"You are the only one he speaks to without calculation."
That lingered.
Cassian left.
After a few more moments of silence, I returned to the garden.
The music had stopped.
A commotion.
Humans backing away.
Vampires staring.
In the center of the clearing, a young human girl hung limply in the arms of a vampire guest.
Her skin pale.
Too pale.
Blood streaked down her neck.
She was barely breathing.
Or maybe not breathing at all.
The humans no longer looked entertained.
They looked afraid.
The vampire who held her looked… irritated. As if someone had interrupted a meal.
I froze.
Everyone turned to the king.
What will he do?
For a split second—
His eyes met mine.
Not commanding.
Not regal.
Lost.
As if asking—
What would you have me do?
Then it was gone.
He descended from the throne.
Walked toward the scene.
Silence swallowed the garden.
He touched the girl's neck.
No pulse.
He gave a signal.
Guards carried her away.
Silas followed swiftly.
Of course.
So that is where he had been.
Now all eyes were on the king.
Waiting.
The vampire guest sneered faintly. "She volunteered."
Darian said nothing.
He stepped closer.
Calm.
Controlled.
Then—
His hand shot forward.
Gripped the vampire's throat.
Lifted him effortlessly.
Gasps erupted.
Before anyone could react—
He twisted.
And tore.
The sound was wet.
Sudden.
Final.
The head separated from the body.
Clean.
Blood spilled across white silk and green grass.
The body dropped.
The head rolled.
Silence.
Utter silence.
Humans stared in horror.
Some vampires looked impressed.
Others looked uneasy.
Darian stood there, hands stained crimson, gaze cold as winter.
"This," he said evenly, voice carrying across the entire garden, "is what happens when you mistake indulgence for permission."
No one breathed.
"We do not rule through terror."
He looked toward the humans.
"But we do not tolerate disrespect."
He turned back toward the vampires.
"Anyone who cannot control themselves will answer to me."
The torches flickered.
The wind stirred.
And in that moment, I understood what Cassian meant.
Ruthless.
Merciless.
Necessary.
Darian slowly lifted his gaze.
It found mine again.
This time not lost.
Not uncertain.
But searching.
And for the first time since becoming a vampire—
I felt something shift inside me.
Progress.
Not in my training.
Not in my strength.
But in understanding what it truly means to stand beside a king who must be both mercy and blood