Morning came, greeted by the songs of birds. Outside, the steady sound of the gardener cutting weeds mixed with the quiet movement of servants tidying the estate.
I woke feeling strangely lighter.
Alice had returned, standing behind me as she brushed my hair, gently weaving ribbons through my long blonde strands.
Tonight would be busy.
I had to ensure the new consort's quarters were prepared, and later I was expected to attend a tea gathering with the other consorts. It was exhausting just thinking about it, but it would keep my mind occupied—perhaps exactly what I needed.
"Alice," I said softly, watching her reflection in the mirror. "Has the duke left the estate?"
"Not yet, my lady," she replied, finishing the arrangement of my hair.
He was still here.
I studied my reflection. My face remained youthful—pale yet radiant—yet it felt as though the person staring back at me did not belong to me. The yellow dress was his favorite; he once said it brought out my eyes, made me appear softer.
I reached out, my fingertips brushing the cold surface of the mirror.
Despite the decades that had passed, time had not touched me, yet it had worn me down.
My first visit of the day would be to the former duchess—the duke's mother. She had requested to see me days ago, but I had postponed due to recent affairs. Since I would already be visiting the higher consorts today, I decided to stop by. There was also a suspicion I wished to confirm.
The ride passed in silence. As expected, she was tending to her garden at this hour, so I went there first.
Her estate—the White Palace—was the oldest, yet the most vibrant, filled with carefully arranged flowers in full bloom. She had always loved gardening, blessed by Verdis. If not for our positions, perhaps we might have been close.
In another life.
I found her inside the greenhouse, her hands buried in soil as she worked through the flower beds. She had noticed me, yet she did not stop, completely absorbed in her task.
So I waited
.
Eventually, she rose, brushing the dirt from her hands as she admired her work.
"Lady Caroline," she said warmly. "What a pleasant surprise."
She removed her apron and set it aside before leading me to a small seating area.
"Good morning, my lady," I said with a bow. "I apologize for not visiting sooner."
"It is quite alright," she replied. "You must be busy preparing for the duke's new consorts."
The words landed sharper than expected, quietly confirming what I had already begun to suspect.
"Thank you for your understanding," I said. "And how have you been?"
"Well enough," she replied lightly. "Just ensuring the weeds are removed, so the flowers may bloom peacefully."
There was a cold edge beneath her calm tone.
I tightened my grip around my teacup, maintaining a polite smile.
The duke and his mother shared a particular habit—keeping me in the dark and forcing me to search for answers that should have been given freely.
Unlike me, she remained deeply woven into court politics—a veteran, and a cunning one. If anyone knew who the duke intended to bring home tonight, it would be her. That kind of control, without even stepping into court, was something to envy.
I hated surprises.
Yet they never ceased.
If only I could pry the truth from her—but she would never offer it so easily.
She studied me in silence, and the warmth in her expression slowly faded.
"Lady Caroline," she said at last, "you must learn to tend your own garden."
Her voice sharpened slightly.
"A gardener who neglects her soil cannot expect her flowers to thrive. Remove the weeds before they grow too large."
My smile stiffened, but before I could respond, she had already risen.
"Thank you for visiting," she said, turning away. "I still have work to do. We will speak again this evening."
She paused briefly.
"That color suits you."
And with that she left.
Still, one thing was certain—my suspicion had been correct. The duke would bring home a new consort.
The ride to the Jade Palace was short.
I adjusted my dress before stepping out of the carriage, where the consorts were already waiting with their heads bowed. The duke rarely kept many; most were never chosen, and many disappeared before they ever had the chance. Only forty remained, the majority of them human—food, if one chose to be honest.
As I stepped forward, none dared meet my gaze.
Elizabeth, the second-ranked consort, approached and led me inside, while the others followed quickly behind, struggling to keep pace.
The Jade Palace remained unchanged, a quiet testament to my reign. The air was heavy and familiar, untouched by time.
Inside, the dining hall had been prepared with fresh spring flowers placed at the center of the table, softening the otherwise cold atmosphere. I took my place at the head—the duke's seat in his absence—while the others settled after me.
Elizabeth remained standing.
She had always been remarkable, the most capable among them. Once upon a time, she might have became the duchess, if not for my lineage. Fate had simply favored me more.
Following tradition, she served first, pouring a thick red liquid into my glass.
Blood.
She moved next to Lilith, then to Sarah—the fourth-ranked consort, an elven maiden—and poured her wine before finally filling her own glass with blood. The maids followed, serving the remaining vampire consorts before pouring wine for the humans.
The difference in reaction was immediate. The human consorts stiffened as the scent of blood filled the air, their hands tightening around their cups as they tried to mask their unease. Some lowered their gazes, others forced stillness into their posture, but none could fully hide the tension that settled over them.
Elizabeth lifted her glass and drank without hesitation, as though it were nothing more than wine. Lilith followed, a faint, knowing smile on her lips as her thumb traced slowly along the rim of her glass, watching the humans from the corner of her eye. Sarah hesitated only briefly before drinking as well, her surprise subtle but present.
It served as a quiet reminder.
Nothing would change.
Humans remained at the bottom—regardless of what the covenant claimed—and they were meant to remember it.
The silence grew heavy before I finally broke it.
"Is the manor prepared for the new bride?"
"It will be ready by tonight," Elizabeth replied.
Lilith leaned back slightly, her gaze drifting toward me. "So it is true—a new consort. Should we be concerned?"
The question settled over the table, drawing the attention of everyone present.
"To be honest," I said, "I do not know."
"It hardly matters who she is, Your Highness," Sarah said coolly. "A little discipline corrects most things."
"If necessary," I added, casting her a brief glance.
The reassurance felt thin. The truth was far less comforting—I had little control over what was to come.
This was not about the duke's attention.
It was about balance.
The last time a human rose high enough to stand among the head wives, the court had nearly torn itself apart. None of us wished to relive that. The peace we had now was fragile, built over years of careful restraint, and easily broken.
Yet young human women always arrived with the same dream—to be chosen, to rise—and in chasing it, they disrupted everything.
After all these years, we had grown far too tired for such games.
"How is Eric?" Elizabeth asked, her tone shifting the atmosphere.
"He is well," I replied, though my grip tightened slightly around my glass.
A lie.
"He no longer visits," Lilith said, her voice softer now as her thumb continued tracing the rim of her glass. "Strange, isn't it? He was once the boy who hid behind you whenever Miach and Anna opposed him."
A faint smile touched her lips.
Despite everything, some things remained unchanged.
The love we held for our children was one of the things.
Once, these estates had been filled with laughter—small feet running through the halls, voices echoing without restraint. Now, only silence remained, as though time itself had quietly erased those moments.
Cruel, how quickly time moves when you wish it would slow down.