The pancakes were, of course, perfect. Light, fluffy, and dotted with just the right amount of melted chocolate. Rowan ate them with a quiet reverence, occasionally glancing at Rhyian, who sat at the other end of the large table, nursing his coffee and watching with an unnerving stillness. It wasn't the comfortable silence of a family breakfast; it was the watchful quiet of a lion observing a cub. My cub.
I barely touched my own food. Every bite felt like accepting his hospitality, like admitting defeat. I was a guest in my own life, a spectator at my son's breakfast. The truce felt less like a pact and more like a set of golden shackles.
When Rowan finished, Rhyian spoke.
"The east wing of this floor contains a solarium. There are plants from every corner of the world, and a stream. I think you would enjoy it, Rowan."
Rowan's eyes lit up.
"A stream? Inside?"
"Indeed," Rhyian said. "Go and explore. The building will guide you."
It was a dismissal. He wanted to get Rowan out of the room so the "first lesson" could begin. I bristled at his maneuvering, but one look at Rowan's excited face made me relent.
"Okay, sweet boy," I said, forcing a smile. "Go on. But stay where the building can see you."
He scampered off, his earlier fears all but forgotten in the face of this new, magical world. As soon as he was gone, the atmosphere in the room shifted back to the cold tension from before.
Right on cue, the elevator doors hissed open. Serafina glided in.
Today, she was dressed in a sharp, blood-red dress that matched her fiery hair. Her emerald eyes swept over the scene—me in my borrowed pajamas, Rhyian in his casual sweater—and her lips thinned in disapproval.
"Sovereign," she said, her voice crisp. "You wished for me to begin the... orientation." She said the word like it was something distasteful she had stepped in.
"Yes, Seneschal," Rhyian said, rising from his chair. "Carys is to be briefed on the full political landscape, starting with the Coven." He turned to me. "I have business to attend to regarding the 'renovation' of your former property. Serafina has my full authority in this matter. Listen to her."
It was a command, both to me and to her. With a final, lingering look at me, he walked to the elevator and was gone, leaving me alone with the viper.
Serafina stood there for a moment, her arms crossed, her eyes raking over me with undisguised contempt.
"So," she began, her voice dripping with venom. "The little stray has been brought to heel. I must say, I didn't think he had such sentimental tastes."
"I'm not his stray," I said, my voice low and even. I would not let her get to me. "And you are not my keeper. We have a task, so let's get on with it."
A flicker of surprise crossed her face, quickly replaced by a cold smile.
"Feisty. I see what amused him. Very well. Let us begin your first lesson." She gestured elegantly to the sofa. "Sit."
I remained standing.
"I'm fine here."
Her smile widened.
"Lesson one, little bird. In this court, perception is reality. By standing while I sit, you attempt to claim a higher status. A foolish, amateurish move that signals to everyone that you have no status at all. It makes you look weak and ignorant." She sank gracefully onto the couch, crossing her legs. "Now, sit. And try not to look like a frightened rabbit while you do it."
My jaw clenched, but I recognized the truth in her poisonous words. This was a game, and she had just explained the first rule. I walked over and sat on the opposite couch, deliberately adopting a relaxed posture, forcing my hands to lie still in my lap.
"Better," she purred, though her eyes said otherwise. "Now, the Ash-Scythe Coven. They are fools, but dangerous fools. A cult, really. They splintered from the main European courts about a century ago, led by a charismatic upstart named Malachi. They believe the great bloodlines—like the Dravos line—are stagnating because we have adapted to the modern world instead of ruling it. They see our integration as a weakness."
"So they're purists?" I asked, focusing on the information, ignoring the insult.
"They are butchers hiding behind an ideology," she corrected. "Their 'purification' involves hunting down unique supernatural beings—dhampirs, changelings, were-kin of rare lineage—and consuming them in ritual sacrifice. They believe it concentrates power. They've been a minor nuisance for decades, but recently, their intelligence network has become alarmingly effective."
"How did they find us?"
Serafina laughed, a sharp, unpleasant sound.
"How do you think? You were a ghost for seven years, completely off the grid. And then, about eight months ago, a file was reactivated. A social security number for a 'Carys Corbin,' linked to a business license for 'The Gilded Cage.' You put yourself on the map, you stupid girl. You got comfortable. You thought the world had forgotten you. The world never forgets."
Her words were a physical blow. The business license. I had done it to secure a better lease, to build a legitimate front for Rowan's future. It had felt like a smart, responsible move. Instead, it had been a flare in the dark, leading the monsters right to my door.
"But that's not the most interesting part," Serafina continued, leaning forward, her green eyes glittering with malicious glee. She was enjoying this, enjoying tearing my world apart piece by piece. "They shouldn't have been able to connect 'Carys Corbin' to the woman Rhyian was involved with seven years ago. That connection was sealed. Buried."
"Then how?" I whispered.
"There's only one way," she said, savoring the moment. "Someone on the inside told them. Someone within this tower. Someone with access to the Sovereign's sealed archives."
A traitor. Just as I had suspected. The attack wasn't just an external threat; it was an inside job.
"Someone here betrayed him," I murmured, my mind racing. The other vampires in the lobby...
Serafina smiled, a slow, predatory curving of her lips. "Precisely. Which brings us to lesson two."
She rose from the couch and glided over to the window, her back to me.
"The greatest threat to you and your bastard child is not the Coven outside the walls," she said, her voice turning cold and hard. "It is the court within them. Everyone here now knows that Rhyian has produced an heir. A half-blood heir. This throws the entire succession into chaos. There are many in this tower who have served him for centuries, who believe a half-human abomination has no right to inherit the Dravos legacy."
She turned, and the full force of her hatred hit me.
"They see your son as a threat to their own power, their own ambitions. A problem to be removed," she hissed. "And they see you as the pathetic, mortal weakness that created him."
She took a step toward me, her eyes boring into mine.
"So, no, little bird. The Sovereign is not your greatest protector. Your enemies are not just outside. They are everywhere. They are in the walls. They are in the court." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a venomous whisper. "And your most dangerous enemy... is standing right in front of you. Do you understand your lesson now?"
The unspoken threat hung between us, thick and suffocating. She wasn't just Rhyian's seneschal. She was a rival, and she had just declared war. This wasn't a lesson about politics. This was a warning. And a promise.