Eva’s sharp gaze locked onto Azrael, the letter caught delicately between her fingers. The silence in the chamber stretched between them like a drawn blade, heavy with unspoken tension.
“Who is this letter for?” Eva repeated, her voice deceptively calm.
Azrael’s mind raced, but her expression remained unreadable. A lie had to be swift and seamless, woven with enough truth to be believed. She let out a soft, exasperated sigh and reached out, plucking the letter from Eva’s grasp with deliberate ease.
“It’s for Lord Callan,” she said smoothly, naming one of the vampire nobles who had supported her in court. “He asked me to draft a message concerning the upcoming council meeting. I had only just finished when you walked in.”
Eva’s brow arched, skepticism flickering in her golden eyes. “And why hide it behind your back like some guilty child caught sneaking sweets?”
Azrael forced a smirk, rolling her eyes as if Eva’s suspicion were nothing but an inconvenience. “Because I knew you’d pester me about it, just like you are now.” She folded her arms, shifting into the role of a slightly irritated but otherwise unbothered princess. “Honestly, Eva, you don't need to scrutinize every little thing I do.”
Eva hummed, unconvinced. “Then unseal it and let me see.”
Azrael’s grip on the letter tightened, but she allowed only a flicker of irritation to show. “You think I would seal a letter in my own blood only to break it open again?” She scoffed. “That would be a waste of magic and, quite frankly, my patience.”
Eva tilted her head, still watching. Still waiting.
Azrael sighed as if exhausted by the whole exchange. “If you must know, I had to write in blood to ensure confidentiality. Callan insisted. He’s convinced there are spies lurking even in our court, and he wanted a safeguard.” She stepped past Eva, reaching for her cloak. “Are we done now? You said the meeting is soon.”
“Forgive me, Princess. I only worry for you.”
Azrael turned her head slightly, allowing a small, knowing smile to curve her lips. “I know. And that’s why I keep you close.”
Eva dipped her head in deference before stepping toward the door. “The court meeting will commence soon. Don’t keep them waiting.”
“I won’t.”
As Eva exited, Azrael waited until the door shut behind her before picking up the letter once more, pressing her fingers against the enchanted seal. She allowed herself a smirk.
Gaslighting, as it turned out, was an art she had perfected.
As she exited the room, Azrael cast a lingering glance at the letter still clutched in her fingers. It had to reach Draven. No matter what.
—
The grand hall of Blackthorne Castle was shrouded in an atmosphere of mourning and rage. Nobles, dressed in dark, flowing garments, filled the chamber with hushed whispers and grieving murmurs. The scent of incense burned in honor of the fallen, but no amount of ceremony could soothe the wounded pride and fury that festered among them.
A noble, his voice shaking with barely restrained fury, stepped forward. "Your Majesty, we cannot let this attack go unanswered! The Lycans have dared to desecrate our halls, to spill the blood of our kin! We demand vengeance!"
A chorus of agreement erupted, voices rising in fervor. "Strike them down! Let them drown in their own blood!"
Valerion sat upon his obsidian throne, his crimson gaze sweeping over the crowd like a cold wind. He raised a single hand, and the entire hall fell into a reverent silence.
"We will not strike back now," Valerion declared, his voice deep and resonant. "This is not a petty skirmish. This is war."
A ripple of tension spread through the court. Even those baying for blood hesitated at the gravity of his words.
"We do not act rashly. I have spoken with King Seraphim. Word has already been sent to the rulers of the other vampire kingdoms and territories. In seven days, they will arrive in Blackthorne. We will unite. We will rally our forces, and we will wage war unlike any the Lycans have seen before."
The court erupted into a thunderous cheer. The grief and fear that had clouded their hearts were now replaced with the fire of retribution.
"Death to the Lycans!" they cried in unison, their voices shaking the very walls of the castle.
Far from the grandeur of Blackthorne, in a chamber cloaked in shadows, the mysterious woman sat before a glistening crystal ball, watching everything unfold. The flickering light of black candles cast an eerie glow upon her face, accentuating her smirk.
Her fingers traced the surface of the orb, the scene of the vampire court unfolding within. She let out a low chuckle, before it escalated into a full, delighted laugh.
"So predictable," she mused, her voice rich with amusement. "The vampires rally, the Lycans seethe. Soon, they will tear each other apart. And when they do..."
Her eyes gleamed as she leaned closer to the crystal, her fingers tightening around its surface.
"I wonder how they will react when they find out that the Vampire Princess and the Lycan Alpha are mates." Her laughter filled the chamber, dark and intoxicating. "This is going to be interesting."
The sinister laughter echoed as the flames of the candles flickered wildly, as though dancing in response to the chaos yet to unfold.