The night is eerily quiet.
No one dares to move.
Vampires and humans alike stand frozen, too stunned to speak, too stunned to react to what the king has just done.
He literally ripped a man's head from his neck.
Not just any man.
A pure-blooded vampire.
A vampire like himself.
The memory plays over and over again in my mind like a nightmare I cannot wake from. The sickening crack. The spray of blood. The head separating from the body as though it weighed nothing.
I swallow hard.
Perhaps he meant to create order—to remind everyone that rules exist even for the powerful.
But at the same time…
Doesn't that jeopardize his rulership?
He has proven fairness tonight. Brutal, terrifying fairness.
Yet fairness like that could cost him everything.
My mind races.
What if the other pure-bloods see it as betrayal? What if they think he has sided with humans over his own kind?
This single decision could cost him alliances, loyalty… perhaps even his throne.
But then again, it will make the humans feel safer in his castle.
Safer under his rule.
Around me, the guests remain motionless. Some vampires wear expressions that are completely unreadable—blank masks hiding whatever thoughts lie beneath.
Cassian steps forward at last.
He walks to the king, placing a hand gently on his shoulder. Leaning closer, he whispers something in Darian's ear.
The king does not react.
His expression remains carved from stone.
Without another word, he turns and walks toward the castle doors.
No announcement.
No explanation.
He simply leaves.
The crowd watches him go, unsure whether they should follow or pretend nothing has happened.
Servants eventually rush forward, their movements careful and efficient. They carry the head and body away as though such horrors are routine.
And I remain where I am.
Still stunned.
It feels as if the moment Darian stepped away, the spell holding everyone in place broke.
People begin moving again.
Some vampires return to their drinks.
Humans whisper nervously among themselves.
Others quietly slip away toward the gates.
But the vampires… the vampires remain. Silent. Still. Their crimson eyes glancing at one another as though communicating without words.
Gods.
This place feels suffocating.
"This area is so tense," I mutter under my breath.
I decide to leave.
Not running exactly—but moving quickly enough to escape the weight of the moment.
My feet carry me toward the castle.
Toward the servants' quarters.
Perhaps I'll see Cassian. Perhaps he'll explain what just happened.
Or perhaps I'll see the king himself.
Maybe I could ask him if his decision will cost him something.
But then again… it doesn't matter now, does it?
What's done is done.
The rest is left to fate.
Or the gods.
As I walk through the castle corridors, I try my best to look neutral—like I didn't just witness a royal execution.
The servants look shaken.
But strangely…
They don't look surprised.
Almost as though something like this has happened before.
Greyhaven is known for being lawless.
But I never imagined the castle itself would hold so much hidden tension.
Does that mean everything I heard about the king was wrong?
Does that mean Darian is innocent?
My thoughts spiral.
Tonight proved something important.
He respects order.
He respects rules.
He respects every kind.
Human.
Vampire.
Pure-blood.
Turned.
Everyone.
If someone breaks those rules, the consequences are the same.
No exceptions.
So maybe…
Maybe he isn't responsible for the rogue vampires.
Maybe he isn't responsible for the suffering in Greyhaven.
He has done his part from the castle.
He created laws.
He expects them to be followed.
And perhaps the real problem lies elsewhere.
The truth hits me slowly.
The people of Greyhaven don't actually know what happens here.
Funds meant for the poor never reach them.
Medicine meant to be free somehow costs money.
I know this because I've heard Silas complain about it countless times.
Food donations.
Free potions.
Free treatment.
All sent from the castle.
All meant for the people.
And yet most of Greyhaven still struggles.
Which means…
Someone between the castle and the town is stealing from them.
Village chiefs.
Town leaders.
Greedy humans.
I sigh quietly.
So maybe the problem isn't vampires.
Maybe it's humans.
Humans given power over other humans.
Humans exploiting their own kind.
By the time I realize how far I've walked, I stop abruptly.
This isn't the servants' quarters.
I must have passed it entirely while lost in thought.
Instead, I'm heading toward the library.
Of course I am.
My feet seem to bring me here whenever my mind refuses to be quiet.
The hallway is dimly lit with torches, their flames flickering against the stone walls. Shadows stretch along the corridor, long and restless.
Even inside the castle, the tension from the garden still lingers in the air.
I doubt I'll find peace tonight.
But maybe…
Maybe I can find distraction.
Books have always helped with that.
When I push open the large doors of the library, they creak softly.
I step inside.
The familiar scent of parchment, wood, and old ink wraps around me like a comforting blanket.
I wander through the shelves slowly.
I know this place almost by heart now.
Every shelf.
Every corner.
Every stack of scrolls.
My fingers trail across the wooden slabs holding the ancient texts.
They remind me of the serving trays I used in the tavern back when I was human—flat wooden boards carrying drinks for people who rarely appreciated them.
Except these are larger.
Older.
Covered in carved messages and symbols.
Some are etched deeply into the wood.
Others are painted in faded colors—green from crushed leaves, dark red that suspiciously resembles blood.
Anything that could create color was used.
Even now, as I walk deeper into the library, the silence feels heavier than usual.
Then—
I notice a shadow.
My body stiffens.
"Who's there?"
The torches flicker weakly.
Their light dances along the shelves, barely illuminating the room.
Then a voice answers from the darkness.
"I should be the one asking you that."
My breath catches.
"What are you doing here?"
I freeze.
That voice.
"Your Majesty?" I ask carefully.
Silence answers me.
The room grows impossibly still.
"Your Majesty?" I try again.
Then he finally speaks.
"You never call me that."
His voice is calm. Quiet.
Too calm.
"I have been calling you that," I reply defensively.
"You make it sound so formal."
"Because it is supposed to be formal."
He says nothing.
The silence stretches long enough to make my skin prickle.
"I thought you left," I say eventually.
"Left?" he asks.
There's a hint of amusement in his voice.
"To where?"
The humor surprises me.
Especially coming from someone who just tore a man apart.
"Well… Cassian whispered something to you and then you left."
"I left because Cassian warned me," Darian says slowly, "that if I stayed any longer, I might lose control."
"Lose control?"
"Yes."
He pauses.
"When blood has already been drawn, it takes willpower to stop drawing more."
His silhouette shifts as he moves slightly closer.
"Especially when someone has broken the order I worked so hard to create."
I still cannot see his face clearly.
Only the outline of him standing tall in the dim torchlight.
"But what you did was right," I say quietly.
"What do you know?" he replies.
The words are sharp, but his voice isn't angry.
Just tired.
"I know you were trying to make humans feel safe in your castle," I say.
"And you didn't want to appear biased."
"You wanted everyone treated equally."
"Vampires. Turned vampires. Pure-bloods. Humans."
I hesitate before adding awkwardly,
"You knew their kind was there… the ones who volunteered to be drinks."
Darian chuckles softly.
"Drinks."
"I don't know what else to call them," I admit.
"Neither do I," he says. "They simply exist."
"They gain pleasure from being fed on."
"That's their form of indulgence."
I blink slowly.
Humans who enjoy being bitten.
Strange world.
"If you handled the situation differently," I continue, "you would have lost human trust."
"I never had their trust," he says quietly.
"But this proves you are genuine."
"It doesn't matter."
His voice grows softer.
"Humans will always believe we are monsters."
"That we are raising them like cattle."
"Letting them grow strong and numerous so that one day we can devour them all."
"Can you stop talking about humans like that?" I protest.
"That's what they think of us."
But he doesn't sound angry.
He sounds…
Exhausted.
I hear his footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Coming closer.
Soon I feel his presence directly in front of me.
I tilt my head upward.
He's tall.
Very tall.
If I had to measure it, my head barely reaches his chest.
Which means he's looking down at me right now.
The realization makes me swallow nervously.
"I am tired," he says.
The words catch me completely off guard.
"I am tired of everyone expecting me to make the perfect decision for everything."
"For the castle."
"For Greyhaven."
His voice grows heavier.
"I was never meant to rule alone."
"I was meant to assist a ruler."
"The human king does nothing."
"So I carry the responsibility for both kingdoms."
"For humans and vampires."
"And still…"
His jaw tightens.
"Still vampires turn rogue."
"Still humans hate us because of those rogues."
"It is exhausting."
He exhales sharply.
"One vampire can perform a thousand good deeds."
"But if another vampire commits a single atrocity…"
"That is what humans remember."
He groans in frustration.
I've never heard him speak like this before.
Not once.
Then he moves again.
Closer.
Instinctively, I step back.
And he follows.
Another step.
I step back again.
"Why are you running from me?" he asks softly.
"I—I'm not running from you, Your Majesty."
"Stop calling me that."
"It's what everyone expects me to call you."
"Then what do you want to call me?"
I blink.
When did the conversation change?
When did the air become this… strange?
I keep stepping backward while he continues forward.
Until—
My back hits the wall.
A sharp gasp escapes my lips.
Nowhere to go.
"Nowhere to run," he murmurs.
His voice is deeper up close.
The sound vibrates through my chest.
My stomach twists strangely.
My heart feels like it's racing—
Which is impossible.
Vampires don't have beating hearts.
We're dead.
Undead.
Walking corpses.
At least… that's what we're supposed to be.
But something inside me feels very alive right now.
"Tell me what you think, Isolde," he says quietly.
The way he says my name sends a strange shiver down my spine.
I look up.
The torchlight flickers across his face.
His crimson eyes glow softly in the darkness.
And for a terrifying moment…
I feel like if he looked at me with even a hint of tenderness—
I might melt completely.
"I… I don't know what to say."
"You do."
His voice lowers further.
Breathier.
My stomach flips again.
Am I sick?
What is happening to me?
"Gods," I whisper internally. "Help me."
His hand lifts slowly.
He touches my face.
Tilting my chin upward so I have no choice but to meet his eyes.
"Talk to me."
"I—"
"You said you have nothing to say."
His thumb brushes my jaw gently.
"Then tell me."
"What nothing do you have to say?"
"What does he mean…?"
The question echoed in my mind long after his words settled between us.
When he said I should say the nothing I had to say, what exactly did he see that I did not?
I had nothing to say.
His closeness made every coherent thought scatter like frightened birds. My mind, usually sharp and quick with retorts, was suddenly empty.
All I could feel was… strange.
Strange and warm and painfully aware of how close he stood.
His hands were still on my face, firm but not harsh, guiding my chin upward so I had no choice but to look at him.
The torches along the library walls flickered weakly, their light dancing across the endless rows of scrolls and wooden slates. Shadows stretched long between the shelves, wrapping the room in a quiet that felt far too intimate.
He drew in a slow breath.
When it became clear I wasn't going to answer him, his face lowered slightly.
Our faces were now only inches apart.
I could feel his breath.
Mine came out uneven.
"You have something," he murmured quietly, his voice deeper than I had ever heard it before, "something that has caused me to lose rest since the moment you stepped into this castle."
My heartbeat—or whatever remained of it—felt as though it stumbled.
"I don't know what it is," he continued softly. "And honestly… I don't think I want to know."
His crimson eyes searched my face like he was looking for something hidden beneath my skin.
"But I do know one thing."
His voice dropped lower.
"Whenever I think of you… your thoughts, your presence, everything about you consumes my mind. It distracts me."
I swallowed.
"And I keep wondering why."
The silence stretched.
"I have yet to find the answer."
His gaze darkened slightly.
"So if tonight—after this unfortunate event—I decide to throw caution aside and give in to whatever this feeling is…"
His thumb brushed faintly along my jaw.
"…would it cost me something greater?"
His eyes held mine steadily.
"Even if it were only for one night."
My breath caught.
"What do you mean, Your Majesty—"
"Stop calling me that."
The interruption came quietly but firmly.
"Your Majesty," I repeated stubbornly, my voice unsteady, "you might be intoxicated. You drank quite a lot of wine earlier."
A soft breath escaped him, almost like a laugh.
"It is not the wine."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Vampires cannot truly get drunk. Purebloods least of all. We might feel the warmth of alcohol for a moment, but never enough to lose ourselves."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"You would regret whatever you're about to do," I whispered.
"So be it."
"I might hate you afterward."
A corner of his mouth lifted faintly.
"You already hate me."
I hesitated.
"I'm… seeing you in a different light."
His expression changed slightly at that.
"Don't make me hate you again," I added quietly.
Silence fell between us.
The tension in the air grew thicker with every passing second.
Then he asked softly,
"Do you want me to go further?"
The question hung dangerously between us.
It was strange—utterly strange—that a part of me wanted him to do exactly that.
Just one night.
One moment.
Then everything could return to the way it was before.
I could go back to being a servant.
Back to studying.
Back to pretending none of this mattered.
But deep down…
A truth stirred within me.
I had never lived.
Not truly.
Not as a human.
And now, somehow, he was awakening feelings inside me that I had never been allowed to experience.
I wanted this.
Slowly, I lifted my gaze to meet his again.
"What do you want to do?" I asked softly.
My voice came out lighter than I intended, as if the air itself carried the words away.
For a moment, he simply watched me.
Then his head lowered toward my neck.
His nose brushed faintly against my skin as though he were breathing me in.
My breath hitched.
"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly.
I wanted to say no.
I should have said no.
But something inside me answered before reason could intervene.
I nodded.
His voice softened.
"Words."
I hesitated only a moment.
"Yes."
"Good."
His lips brushed against my neck.
My body froze.
The faint graze of his fangs followed, barely touching my skin.
A sharp breath escaped me.
Anticipation rippled through my body.
Was he going to bite me?
But instead, his lips moved slowly along my neck, his breath warm against my skin.
A strange shiver traveled down my spine.
He hummed quietly in approval, the sound vibrating faintly against my throat.
"You are a very dangerous temptation," he murmured.
"Then why are you here?" I whispered.
He inhaled sharply.
"Because I can't stay away."
Before I could respond—
His fangs pierced my neck.
The sensation sent a sudden wave of memory crashing through me.
The alley.
The pain.
The fear.
But this time was different.
There was no terror.
No struggle.
Instead, warmth spread through me like fire beneath my skin.
My fingers moved instinctively, tangling into his dark hair as I pulled him closer without realizing it.
A soft sound escaped my lips.
The quiet library carried the echo farther than I intended.
His grip tightened slightly around me as he continued.
Moments passed.
Or perhaps longer.
Time blurred completely.
When he finally pulled away, his tongue brushed lightly across the wound.
The skin healed instantly.
Our eyes met again.
But before either of us could speak—
A voice echoed from the hallway.
"Darian?"
Cassian.
"Darian, where are you?"
Panic surged through me immediately.
It would only take seconds before he entered the library and saw us.
Saw the king standing this close.
Saw the implication of what had just happened.
"There isn't—" I began, stumbling over my words.
Darian simply looked at me.
"Why are you panicking?" he asked calmly.
"I— I don't—"
His gaze silenced me.
Something about it made every word vanish.
For a moment, the tension softened.
He leaned closer.
"I enjoyed tonight," he whispered quietly.
Before I could react, he pressed a gentle kiss against my cheek.
"But I don't want you to remember it."
His eyes locked onto mine.
Deep.
Unavoidable.
And suddenly—
Everything vanished.
The library felt unfamiliar.
Cassian's voice sounded distant.
My thoughts were clouded.
I blinked slowly, trying to understand why I was standing here.
Cassian stood a few steps away from me, staring with confusion.
"Isolde?" he asked.
I frowned slightly.
"Why are you in the library?" he continued.
I glanced around.
Had I come here to read?
Had I gotten lost?
I couldn't remember.
Across the room, the king sat calmly in a chair, watching the exchange with an unreadable expression.
For a brief moment, when his eyes met mine, something flickered there.
Something I couldn't quite name.
But it disappeared before I could understand it.
Cassian sighed.
"You shouldn't wander the castle tonight," he said.
"There's still tension from earlier."
I nodded slowly.
"You should return to the servants' quarters."
"Yes," I said quickly.
My words came out awkward and clumsy.
"You're right."
Cassian eyed me suspiciously.
"Go."
I gave a small nod.
Then I turned and hurried toward the door.
The moment I stepped into the hallway, I felt as though something important had slipped through my fingers.
But no matter how hard I tried—
I couldn't remember what it was