Deep night clung to the watchtower, a cloak of cold silence broken only by the wind whispering through the stone battlements. Far below, in the jagged expanse of the forbidden lands, shadow moved. Massive, misshapen beasts paced the invisible border, their forms silhouetted against the faint, sickly glow of corrupted earth.
Prince Kali stood at the edge of the parapet, his hands resting on the cold stone. His eyes, the color of a winter storm, tracked the creatures restless movements. He was a statue of focused intensity, his black armor absorbing the scant light. The peace was a fraying thread, and he felt every fiber straining.
The heavy tread of boots on stone announced a arrival. Captain Rufus, his face grim under the helmet, came to a halt behind him. Your Highness. Kali did not turn. Report.
A rider from the capital. The Empress makes her move. Rufus voice was a low growl. Her faction in the court consolidate. Many ministers, most from her own bloodline, now back her play.
A slow, cold smile touched Kali's lips, a fleeting crack in his impassive facade. He said nothing, letting Rufus stew in silence. He knew the message was not complete.
Rufus shifted his weight, the leather of his armor creaking. He rubbed the back of his neck, a nervous, human gesture that betrayed his agitation. The Emperor has decreed a marriage for you, Your Highness. A political union to secure the southern alliance.
Kali finally turned, his expression unreadable. He raised one perfect dark brow, a silent command to continue.
The bride… Rufus hesitated, then pushed the words out. She is human.
The Prince's face remained a blank mask of cold marble. Fine, he said his voice devoid of inflection. That changes nothing.
The messenger, a young vampire nobleman who had delivered the scroll, dared to step forward. You Highness, forgive my impertinence, but a human bride… the court will see it as a weakening of your influence. They will whisper that you are being sidelined. I believe that is the Empress's precise intention.
Kali's stormy eyes flicked toward the young man, pinning him in place. It. Does. Not. Matter. He spoke each word with the finality of a slamming portcullis. Her games are a gnat's buzz against the storm gathering here. He turned his gaze back to the monstrous shape in the darkness. Tell the men we break camp at first light, we return to the capital.
The first light of dawn pierced the cottage windows, painting dust motes gold. Inside, a different kind of preparation was underway. The air hummed with a nervous, excited energy.
Lucia and and Livia moved with efficient grace around Layla, who stood still as a portrait subject. They hand woven her dark hair into an intricate crow of braids, a style both simple and regal. She wore the new dress of deep blue linen, the color making her emerald eyes blaze with starting intensity and contrasting sharply with her pale skin. At her throat, the crystal necklace lay cool against her skin. Inside the pendant, a captive swirl of liquid silver and azure seemed to move with a life of it own, catching the light.
My Lady, Livia breathed, stepping back to admire their work. You look..you will return with a dozen marriage proposals. The poets will weep for lack of words.
A genuine laugh escaped Layla, a bright sound in the tense morning. I seek no proposals, only a few hours of freedom. Her expression grew serious. Lucia, did you check? Are we being watched?
Lucia nodded, returning from a cautious survey of the grounds. The main house is silent. Their carriages left over an hour ago. She opened the door to reveal Silas, waiting with a determined look and a hired carriage that, while humble, was clean and sturdy.
My Lady, are you ready? Silas asked his eyes sweeping over her with a mix of pride and concern.
We are ready, Silas. Thank you. Layla took a steadying breath. And the main house is truly empty?
From what I see, yes. They left early, confident in their victory.
Good. Let us go then.
They stepped out into the crisp morning air, the cut grass smelling sweet and hopeful. But their escape was not yet seamless. As they moved toward the hired carriage, the rhythmic clop of hooves and the smooth roll of well greased wheels announced another arrival. A magnificent black carriage, emblazoned with the Blackthorn raven, pulled by two impeccable white horses, came to a halt before them. The coachman was a severe-looking man in immaculate livery.
The door swung open and Charles leaped out, his face alight with surprise and delight. Cousin! You are coming! His smile was honest and warm, a stark contrast to the calculated expressions of his parents.
Layla's heart hammered against her ribs, but she forced a calm smile. I could not disappoint you, Charles.
I am glad you decided to come. You look… he seemed to truly see her for the first time, his words faltering. You look beautiful. I fear I will spend the entire day fending off every unmarried lord in the city.
Please, do try, Layla said a hint of wry amusement in her tone. They shared a smile.
Please, ride with me, Charles insisted, gesturing to his luxurious carriage. Your maids and the man can follow in yours, it will be far more comfortable.
Layla glanced at the opulent carriage, the at the serious-faced driver. It was a step deeper into their world, but also a shield. Arriving with the Blackthorn heir would grant her an legitimacy she would lack alone.she nodded. Thank you, Charles. That is kind.
His smile widened. He offered his hand, and she took it, stepping up into the plush, velvet-line interior. Lucia Livia, and Silas exchanged a look of mixed anxiety and resolve before climbing into their own bumble transport.