~LENORA'S POV
I turned just in time to see her fall.
For a moment, my mind refused to make sense of what my eyes were showing me. A silver blade caught the light, a brief flash that meant nothing until red followed it, spreading too quickly and vividly across her pale silk.
She collapsed onto the marble floor with a sound that felt wrong in a room like this. The echo of it lingered, louder than it should have, as if the hall itself had not been prepared for something so real.
The music faltered, notes stumbling over one another before falling silent altogether. The sudden quiet pressed in from every direction, and I realized I had stopped breathing.
Someone screamed. The sound was piercing, but it barely registered before it was swallowed by the confusion that erupted around us.
Nobles stepped back in alarm.
Servants froze where they stood.
Conversations fractured into frantic whispers that rippled across the hall.
I did not move. I couldn't move because it felt like my legs were rooted to that particular spot.
I stood there staring at the body on the floor. My gaze locked on the way blood continued to spread, before her body began dissolving, turning into Len dust and floating into the air.
I didn't know what was happening to her body, but I knew she was gone.
My legs trembled beneath me, betraying a weakness I hadn't realized I possessed. My stomach churned and my hands shook so violently I almost dropped them to the floor.
I wanted to scream, to do something, but nothing came.
Around me, reactions contrasted with one another. While some of them had a shocked expression, others wore something else on their faces. Their faces hardened with alarming speed, eyes already shifting, already weighing what this meant and how it changed the balance of power.
Some watched with fascination rather than grief.
No one rushed forward.
No one knelt beside her.
No one mourned.
Humans didn't move this way or think this way. We had compassion, feelings, and emotions. People would have gathered and called an emergency if this were to happen amongst humans.
But here....all of this was what made me remember that I wasn't in my world anymore. This world was too cruel to accommodate humanity and yet, here I am, a human in a world of predators.
This place did not merely tolerate death. It absorbed it, welcomed it like a norm, and moved on as though it were nothing more than an inconvenience.
Something fragile inside me cracked then. A quiet belief I had been clinging to without realizing it. The idea that I could endure this place if I stayed quiet, if I behaved, if I waited long enough for things to settle.
My gaze drifted toward Alaric before I could stop it. He had not risen from his throne or reacted at all. If anything, his expression seemed indifferent and distant, removed from the reality unfolding before him.
He was simply unmoved, and that frightened me more than anger ever could.
I drew in a shaky breath, and the metallic scent of blood burned at the back of my throat. My chest felt tight, as though the air itself had become too heavy to breathe.
This is not your world, a quiet voice whispered inside my mind.
And it never will be.
The thought struck with brutal clarity. If I stayed here, if I waited for permission or protection or mercy, I would eventually meet the same end as the woman.
It may not be today. Maybe not tomorrow. But one day, I would be reduced to something disposable, and also erased without ceremony.
I forced myself to look away from the now empty floor where a lifeless body had lain just moments ago. A wave of nausea rolled through me as the hall seemed to close in. The chandeliers felt too low, and the walls too near. It all made me feel suffocated.
I needed to leave.
I scanned the room, my heart pounding as the gathering slowly unraveled. Some guests filtered out, others clustered together in hushed conversations, their attention fixed on the throne and what it represented.
Only the most important remained, those with enough power to linger without fear.
My eyes landed on one figure in particular.
Dravenna.
She had seen me earlier, when she noticed how close Zephyr was to me.
She had approached Zephyr a while ago. I remembered the moment clearly because I had felt oddly out of place beside him. His presence seemed to draw eyes even when he was not trying.
Dravenna had given a polite smile, which I knew was practiced rather than genuine. She introduced herself with a grace that made the name feel important before I understood why it mattered.
She spoke to Zephyr first, asked something that sounded like a signature question she used whenever she saw him. He barely acknowledged her presence, but still gave her a brief answer, before his focus slipped elsewhere.
When her gaze flicked to me, it was quick enough that I wondered if I imagined it.
There had been no warmth there, but no hostility either. Just curiosity, perhaps. Or nothing at all. I remembered thinking I was reading too much into it, the way people do when they feel exposed.
She left us alone moments later, and sashayed unbothered, as if the exchange had gone exactly as she expected.
Now, seeing her again, I felt that same uncertainty return.
She stood among the pillars with an ease that suggested familiarity. She looked young, impossibly so, and I reminded myself again that she was probably hundreds of years older than me, and appearances here meant very little.
Her attention was fixed on Alaric, and at first I assumed it was simple interest. Who would not watch him tonight, after everything that had happened? Yet the longer I observed her, the more something about it unsettled me, though I could not name why.
It was not admiration. It did not carry the awe I had seen on other faces.
Still, I hesitated to call it anything else.
Perhaps I was projecting. Perhaps I was already too on edge.
Earlier, she had looked at Zephyrus in much the same way. Or had she? The memory felt slippery now, distorted by the night.
Even as I watched her, I couldn't lose focus. Every glance, every movement reminded me that staying in one place for too long might be my last mistake. My own survival felt suddenly fragile, and I needed to move.
Without realizing it, my eyes had wandered, and rested on Zephyr.
He was nearby, caught in conversation with several vampires. His jaw was tight, irritation flickering across his face in brief flashes he did not bother to hide.
I wanted to move closer to him, if only to anchor myself, but the instinct passed just as quickly as it appeared.
Lucian had not returned since leaving with the cloaked figure, and the absence sat uneasily in my thoughts.
Then I looked toward the throne.
It took a moment for the realization to settle.
Alaric was no longer there.
For a heartbeat, I wondered if I had simply missed him moving. The space remained empty, and something quick and dangerous stirred inside me.
An opportunity.
They were all distracted.
The thought made my pulse jump, and I hated how quickly hope followed it. I told myself not to rush, not to assume. Still, the idea lodged itself in my mind and refused to leave.
If I was going to move, it had to be now.
I slipped out the doors while the hall was still fractured by shock, keeping my head down and my steps steady while pretending I belonged.
No one stopped me.
The stone beneath my feet was cold and uneven, each step echoing too loudly in the silence.
The corridors blurred together as I followed instinct instead of direction, turning where my body told me to turn, putting distance between myself and the hall without knowing if I was moving toward escape or deeper into danger.
The torchlight flickered, making the shadows dance across the walls and turning every corner into a potential trap. My chest heaved, not from running, but from the weight of knowing I had no right to be here at all.
When I finally slowed, I became aware of voices, soft and unhurried, floating through the hall and settling into the cracks of the stone around me.
I stopped instinctively, pressing myself closer to the wall just before the passage opened ahead. The torchlight there burned steadier than the others, casting long shadows that stretched across the stone floor.
Two figures stood within it.
One leaned casually against the wall with a relaxed posture, confidence radiating from him as naturally as breath. His dark hair caught the light, and his silver eyes glinted with quiet amusement.
Valen.
The recognition sent a small jolt through me. He had been watching me all night. Not openly, not enough to draw attention, but I had felt it all the same.
The second figure stood opposite him, taller, his presence heavier in a way that pressed subtly against my senses.
A Demon.
I stayed perfectly still and held my breath.
"Tonight went... differently than expected," the demon said, his voice smooth, threaded with amusement. "Your sister certainly knows how to command a room."
Valen smiled faintly. "Dravenna has always understood timing. This court responds to inevitability."
"And you believe the marriage will go through," the demon prompted.
"It will," Valen replied without hesitation. "Once she stands beside the demon lord, the court will realign itself. Power always follows blood and promise."
The demon tilted his head, watching him closely. "And where does that leave you?"
Valen's smile sharpened. "Exactly where I intend to be."
A chill ran down my spine at the word "Sister."
The word settled slowly, rearranging everything I thought I understood. Dravenna's confidence. Her certainty. The way she had looked at Alaric earlier, already seeing something claimed.
They were siblings.
"She is very certain of her future," the demon mused. "The Princess rarely miscalculates."
Valen let out a quiet laugh. "She does not miscalculate at all."
Something scraped faintly beneath my shoe.
The sound was barely there, but it was enough to make Valen's head turn.
His gaze locked onto me instantly, sharp and focused, and before I could even think to move, the space between us collapsed.
My hand twitched toward the nearest wall, as if I could shove it aside and disappear.
One moment I was standing in shadow, the next thing I knew was pain, as my back struck the stone wall hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.
Valen's hand closed around my throat with a firm grip, fingers pressing just enough to remind me how easily he could tighten them.
His eyes widened slightly.
"You," he said softly.
My pulse leapt violently beneath his fingers, betraying me completely. I felt it, and so did he.
A slow smile curved his mouth, before leaning closer, "Well, well, well," he murmured, studying my face with open interest, "who do we have here?"
His fingers brushed the edge of my mask, tugging it away from my face. Cool air kissed my skin, and I watched the mask fall off and break into two.
His hand moved slowly, placing his thumb under my chin before tilting my chin just enough to force my gaze up. His eyes lingered on mine in an analytical manner, as if he was trying to figure me out.
"I see why the first Prince hovers around you like a shadow." He murmured, not kindly. "You are a pretty one." He paused. "Much prettier up close."
The words were not a compliment. They were an assessment.
The demon stepped closer, curiosity rolling off him in palpable waves. There was something in his presence that set my nerves on edge.
The air changed when he was close to me, warm and heady, making my thoughts waver despite myself. I could feel it pressing against me, tugging at my thoughts, making them stumble.
My breath came uneven and shallow. My hands itched to move, to cover, to do anything, but they would not obey. Confusion and fear tangled together in me, making my body react against my will.
Valen noticed.
His eyes narrowed.
"You're aroused." My eyes widened. He was right. My mind scrambled to understand what was happening to me, but no explanation made sense except....
My eyes flickered to the demon, then back to Valen who wore a smug smile, then to the demon again, and realization dawned upon me.
Incubi.
They were... real.
Valen inhaled slowly, as though he were drawing something from the air around us. His nostrils flared, and a look I couldn't decipher crept into his gaze as his eyes lingered on my face.
His grip around my neck did not tighten, but it did not loosen either. The pressure changed, becoming intentional, as if he were suddenly aware of exactly how fragile I was beneath his hand.
For a moment, he only looked at me. Not with curiosity. Not with amusement. With recognition.
"...Human," he said quietly, his eyes turning from silver to blood red.