“Your Majesty,” Johan warned. But King Alexander shooed him off.
“I know what you are going to say, but I don’t care.” King Alexander had every right to be happy. And with that, he gave another skip around the room.
“Your majesty,” Johan could shake his head, but it was a lost cause. The king wasn’t going to listen.
“My baby girl, my sweet little dove.” King Alexander twirled before sitting back down. He kicked his feet before going for the letter again. It was the third time.
But it still wasn’t enough.
“I wish she wrote more.” Alexander pouted, pushing his beard down.
“But it’s a start, your Majesty.”
“Aye, yes, it is.” And Alexander was back up and walking the room. His mind was a buzz, and he had to keep moving.
“Agent Maddie has delivered on her word.” She said she would. But neither of them expected it to be this fast.
“She deserves a reward. But it should be gold.” No, gold wouldn’t be enough for what she managed to do.
The door of communication was finally opened after four years. It was no small task by any means. Yes, it deserved something great.
“I’ll give her a title.” Alexander decided at once. “And a great house.”
Alexander returned to the letter.
“My very first letter.” Alexander lifted it like a priceless heirloom. “Look at her penmanship. It’s perfect.”
"Ana must be quite the student indeed."
“Yes, She takes after her mother.” Alexander beamed proudly.
“Then Prince Nicoli must take after you.”
Alexander dropped his smile.
“Old coot.”
“Speak of the devil,” Johan and King Alexander both turned at the startled cry.
Birds were up and flying over the window in panic as a child's laughter bellowed.
“Back to terrorizing those poor creatures again.” King Alexander shook his head but peered over his to look down the window.
Below, the four-year-old with curly brunette hair and blue eyes moved to pick up a pile of leaves. He threw them up above with another roar of laughter.
“He should be with his tutors right now,” King Alexander frowned. But he wasn’t all disappointed. He skipped many classes at his age.
It was the next person with him, however, that made King Alexander grow cold.
Queen Belinda walked a few steps behind the boy. She was dressed in a white layered garden gown. Her black curls were pulled up neatly to cascade over one side of her head and frame her face and gray eyes.
The queen’s expression was an equal measure of admiration and patience as she watched on. A motherly smile crossed her face. That is until she was directly under the window.
As if already aware, Queen Belinda looked up with expectation. The smile on her face lessened to something softer, and she bowed.
“What a coincidence that Her Majesty would want to take a walk now.” Johan went, but both men knew it was anything but.
“Do you think she knows?”
“It would only be a matter of time before she would.” King Alexander wasn’t surprised. The only surprise was how fast it took.
Faster than both of them expected, apparently.
“Her spies must be quite busy.”
“It doesn’t matter.” King Alexander turned away from his desk to open the drawer. A piece of fresh parchment was pulled out with ink and quills.
“She won’t have it her way again. Not this time.” Four years was long enough.
King Alexander took a seat, dipping the quill in fresh ink.
“Johan, send for the postmaster. I want this sent with no delay.”
“Your Majesty,” Johan bowed and turned out.
“It’s about time I fix my mistake, right, my love?’ King Alexander looked up at the portrait.
The painted woman smiled at him. Her fangs slightly showed under her full upper lip. Her red hair was pulled back with gold chains and crowns to better show off how large her red eyes were.
It was quite a feat to get her to agree to the painting. King Alexander remembered how he had to beg. The vampire was naturally reluctant to her Nochten superstitions. But he had been glad of his persistence.
The painting had turned out to be his second most treasured thing. But it was time he got his first. And King Alexander was determined.
“It’s time I get my daughter back home.”
-x-
*Nicoli*
“Mommy, look!” The young boy lifted the pretty feather to show her.
“It’s blue-” Your favorite. But Nicoli could see his mother was already distracted.
Her maid, Julia, was coming from inside. She leaned to whisper something. Whatever it was, it looked important. His mother’s usual smile dropped for a moment.
But it came back just as quickly.
“Is that what he’s planning to do?” his mother laughed. “After all this time?”
Julia nodded.
“He seems set on it, Your Majesty.”
“I’m sure he would be.” His mother sighed, looking back at the castle. “He always gets sentimental this time of year.”
“But What if she does come back, Your Majesty?”
“Julia, you sound more concerned than I am.” She laughed. But the smile thinned.
“I just- I know this must hurt you,” Julia confessed.
“It does.”
“Then, Your Majesty-”
“Do you really think I will let it happen?”
“What happened?” Nicoli dropped the feather behind to come closer. What was happening?
“What’s happening, mommy?”
Both women turned with a slight start at the boy being so close. Julia bowed, averting her eyes. But his mother grew sweet again.
“Nothing, sweetie.” She cooed and motioned for him. Nicoli gladly came over. Her hand played with his curls tenderly.
It felt good. Nicoli liked having his head touched. He pressed closer to her leg as she continued.
It was also nice to be with Mommy. She was so nice and warm. Nicoli could feel his eyes droop.
“What will you do, your majesty?” Julia, meanwhile, asked again. Her face pulled thin with worry.
“IF she comes back-”
“Julia,” His mother widened her smile to show all her teeth. “How dare you doubt me.”
“I got rid of her once.” His mother stopped to take Nicoli’s hand. She turned to guide him back inside. Their random little walk was over.
“I can do it again.”
*Mykhol*Victory had a flavor—warm copper and sweet iron, thick as honey coating the back of his tongue. Mykhol let it pool there, savoring the metallic richness while keeping his expression carefully blank, carved from marble and years of practiced restraint.Years at the Academy had taught him control, poise, performance—how to smile while calculating throat angles, how to bow while counting exits, how to speak honeyed words while sharpening mental blades. But it was here, now, in this bright-yellow chamber of state with morning light streaming through tall windows, where those hard-earned lessons would finally bear fruit.She actually left him in charge.Like taking candy from a baby—sweet, helpless, trusting.He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to smother the laugh clawing to escape. Ana had fled the room with that giant peacock of a queen in tow—shoulders rigid, excuses half-formed—and left her beloved meeting in his hands. Left him, after all this time, finally alone
*Ana*My body flinches from the sound of her voice, every muscle contracting like I've been struck by lightning. The word 'friend' seems to sour the very air, turning the golden warmth of the room acrid and bitter on my tongue. It lingers there, sweetly foul, like fruit left too long in the sun. A sharp, overclean scent of lemon and something more astringent—like boiled herbs and too much perfume—invades the room along with her. The fragrance is overwhelming, blunt in its brightness, cutting through the comfortable mingling of pine smoke and coffee like scissors through fur. Her presence arrives before her voice fully lands, a fast-moving storm cloaked in velvet and unwavering confidence that makes the very walls seem to shrink back.The hard click of her heels strikes the marble like a war drum, each step deliberate and sharp enough to make my teeth ache. The sound echoes once—twice—reverberating through the domed ceiling before muting as her footfalls cross onto one of the cream br
*Ana*Neither of them came.The thought steals me back from what I'm doing, what I should be doing, before I can stop it, curling cold fingers around my attention and tugging me away from the stack of parchment in front of me. My gaze drifts—again—to the two empty chairs on my right, their burgundy velvet seats still perfectly plumped, untouched by the weight of the bodies that should occupy them.The sight of them makes something knot in my chest, tight and merciless as a fist closing around my ribs.No, stop it, Ana. Focus. You have work to do.I force my eyes back to the map of the settlements, tracing the inked rivers with the tip of my quill until the delicate silver nib catches on a rough patch of parchment. The tiny snag sends a tremor through my fingers. Useless. Useless. My thoughts are traitorous things; they keep circling back to those vacant seats.Part of me had hoped—foolishly, perhaps—that Nicoli, at least, would come.That he'd walk into this room with that easy stride
*Hidi* I should break down the door and drag him out, kicking and screaming.The thought was tempting enough, sending a tremor through her clenched fists. If it were anyone else, Hidi would've done it already. One good stomp and the wood would explode into splinters, the hinges shrieking in metallic protest as she burst through like a summer storm—all thunder and lightning wrapped in velvet. She'd grab the stubborn fool by the collar, her fingers sinking into fabric and flesh alike, and haul them out into the hallway as easily as plucking eggs at Ostara. The satisfying crack of bone, the wheeze of expelled air—she could almost taste it.But this wasn't anyone else. This was Nicoli.And that changed everything.She couldn't just barrel in, couldn't treat him with the same reckless energy and bone-snapping strength she used on Lucy or the occasional defiant maid. Her nostrils flared with each measured breath, the cold air sharp against the tender flesh inside her nose. Nicoli wasn't a
*Nicoli*Nicoli's fingers hovered over the cold brass doorknob, the metal biting against his skin like winter morning frost, sharp enough to ache. His breath misted in the cooler corridor air, each exhale a visible ghost that hung for a heartbeat before dissolving. The tightness in his chest felt like iron bands wrapped around his ribs, constricting with every shallow breath, everything unsaid weighing heavier than armor.The hallway behind him had long since emptied, the last servant scuttling away the moment they'd spotted their approach—mice fleeing a hawk's shadow. Their hurried footsteps still echoed faintly in his memory, a percussion of guilt and avoidance. It should have been a relief to escape their sideways glances, their carefully neutral expressions that spoke volumes. But the lingering pressure beneath his sternum remained, a physical manifestation of everything crumbling around him.The sight of Hidi flashed behind his closed eyelids—still standing at the threshold where
*Nicoli*“Ana, wait! Don’t–”Her name barely made it past his lips. It hung there, unfinished, breathless—like the last wisp of smoke from a snuffed candle as the silver and glass doors whispered shut behind them—a ghost's sigh sealing his fate.Nicoli stood motionless, his arm still stretched toward empty space where she'd been heartbeats before. Mykhol's dark silhouette had materialized like smoke given form, sweeping Ana away with predatory grace—swift, seamless, unapologetic. Like a storm that appears without warning to reap devastation in one fell swoop. They vanished through the gilded archway into the pristine halls beyond, swallowed by marble and shadow.His fingers curled back to his palm slowly, useless now. She was gone.And he hadn't been given the chance to stop her. Every instinct screamed at him to give chase, to find her, comfort her. Ana— But the crushing realization hit him like ice water: he had no idea where they were going, let alone how to navigate this palace la