"Honestly, Princess, your choice of words this morning was... unexpected."
Lord Volkov's voice, smooth as polished ice, cut through the quiet hum of the breakfast room. He was a vampire, old and refined, with eyes that missed nothing.
He raised a delicate teacup, his gaze flicking to Seraphina.
"One might think a certain recent... rumour would be true. And that is not good for the court, especially when the marriage isn't yet confirmed."
Seraphina met his gaze across the polished mahogany table, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on her lips. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her fragrant jasmine tea.
"Lord Volkov," she purred, her voice sweet as honey, yet edged with dry humor. "My response, as you so delicately put it, was nothing but the truth... I'd say I was just raising awareness. And I did nothing wrong — you can't expect me to say I love the Duke when I just met him."
A ripple of silent shock went through the room.
Lord Volkov's smile faltered, his eyes narrowing. He searched her face for insolence but found only serene composure — and perhaps, a hint of genuine, playful challenge.
He expects me to crumble, Seraphina thought, a fierce, exhilarating surge of defiance warming her. He wants me to be the weak, flighty Princess Aurelia of old. Not today, darling. Not ever again.
The Empress, seated at the head of the table, gave a rare, almost imperceptible tilt of her chin. A silent acknowledgment.
Seraphina hadn't just survived the spar — she'd won it.
Barely an hour later, as Seraphina walked through the Grand Gallery, admiring a particularly gruesome tapestry depicting an ancient hunt, she heard a familiar voice.
"Aurelia! You old bat, you're finally back among the living!"
Lady Isolde, Prince Valerius's betrothed, burst from behind a marble column, a wide grin on her face. Her eyes, usually so composed, sparkled with genuine warmth.
She embraced Seraphina in a surprisingly tight hug.
"Gods, I've missed you! You had us all worried, you know. Everyone thought you'd lost your mind for good this time."
Seraphina returned the hug, a small, genuine smile touching her lips.
"Isolde. It's... good to see you, too." The familiarity was a welcome balm in this strange new world.
Isolde pulled back, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"So, the Duke! The legendary Duke Thorne, finally caught! And by you, of all people. Everyone's buzzing. You're the luckiest woman in the kingdom, you know that?"
She leaned in conspiratorially.
"He's ridiculously handsome, isn't he? All that dark, mysterious brooding... I bet he's absolutely incredible in bed. He's going to please you senseless, isn't he?"
Isolde wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Seraphina felt a hot blush creep up her neck, her cheeks flushing crimson.
"Isolde!" she protested, pulling back slightly. "Honestly! I'm not here for... for that! This is a political union, a matter of lineage and alliances!"
And avoiding being sacrificed or forgotten, she added silently, though her face remained prim.
Isolde scoffed, waving a dismissive hand.
"Oh, please. It's always 'lineage and alliances' until you're the one sharing a bed with him. And those rumors about him and his family? They're just old wives' tales, exaggerated by jealous lords."
"They're not that bad, really. Just... particular. And he's so deliciously mysterious, don't you think? That quiet strength, that ancient aura... it's all part of the allure."
"Plus," she winked, "he probably has a lot of practice being charming."
Seraphina tried to shift the conversation, her mind still clinging to the cold facts.
"But... the Solara lineage, and the Thorpes... there are tales, about their true nature. About..."
Isolde just shrugged, dismissive.
"Oh, the old vampire tales? Everyone says that about ancient families. They're just... private. Reclusive. It makes them all the more intriguing, doesn't it?"
"Trust me, Alaric is all man, all power. Any quirks he has just add to his mystique."
She gave Seraphina a knowing look.
"You're going to have quite the wedding night, Princess. I'm almost envious."
Seraphina bit back a sigh.
Isolde clearly wasn't going to be a source of direct information about the supernatural. But she was a genuine, if gossipy, ally. And her observations about court life and the Duke's charm, however superficial, were still useful.
Duke Alaric Thorne stepped out of the shadow of the Grand Gallery, his obsidian eyes already tracking Princess Aurelia as she finally broke away from Lady Isolde.
Isolde, that insipid creature, always gossiping. He had no time for trivialities.
His gaze lingered on Aurelia for a moment — not with desire, but with cold, assessing evaluation.
Improved. Her spirit is indeed stronger now. That will be… beneficial.
His personal attendant, Lord Vesper, appeared at his side.
"Your Grace, Lady Selene of the Sunstone Coven awaits your private audience. Regarding the arrangements."
"Perfect timing," Alaric murmured, his voice a low, smooth rumble.
He nodded, dismissing Vesper with a flick of his wrist.
He did not need "lessons" with Princess Aurelia. That was a flimsy pretense for the court.
His true purpose was to assess her suitability for the transaction.
Her lineage was impeccable. Her health — robust. Her recent transformation from timid mouse to sharp-tongued viper only made her more interesting. More viable.
The Thorne line — indeed all vampire lines — had seen a distressing reduction in viable heirs over the last few centuries. Interbreeding among the ancient houses led to weakened blood. Frail progeny.
New blood, strong new blood, was essential.
Aurelia was simply... the perfect vessel. She possessed the rare ancestral markers. The raw human vitality that could revitalize a dwindling line.
And once her purpose was served, she would be dealt with. Discreetly.
There was no room for sentimentality — not in matters of survival.
He had no affection for her. No personal interest.
She was a means to an end. A valuable, temporary asset.
His mind was already focused on Lady Selene. The negotiations had been delicate, but the Sunstone Coven was desperate. Their direct lineage was fading.
Aurelia, once she had fulfilled her duty for the Thorne house, would be a perfect addition to theirs.
A highly sought-after commodity. A solution to a mutual problem.
As he moved through the bustling hall, a ridiculous, over-eager human woman in a garish yellow gown suddenly threw herself into his path, dragging a simpering, overly made-up daughter with her.
"Your Grace!" Madame Dubois shrieked, curtseying so low it was almost a comical collapse.
"Please! My daughter, Colette! She is plump and healthy, strong of body, pure of spirit! She would make a most obedient consort. A far better choice than… some!"
Madame Dubois's eyes darted scornfully toward the direction Aurelia had just taken.
"She'd make a jolly good wife for your lineage!"
Alaric stopped, his expression one of bored disdain.
He allowed his gaze to sweep over the girl, then returned to the mother, a chillingly polite smile touching his lips.
"Madame Dubois," he drawled, his voice a silken thread, "I commend your... enterprising spirit."
"However, I find that overripe fruit spoils quickly, and a plump physique rarely compensates for a barren wit."
He shifted, dismissing them with a cold flick of his wrist, his gaze already moving past them.
"I prefer my... arrangements to be less conspicuously advertised."
The pair stumbled back, mortified, as he continued on his way. A waste of his valuable time.
He reached the private salon where Lady Selene awaited, her severe elegance a stark contrast to the court's usual frivolous display.
She rose as he entered, her ancient eyes meeting his.
"Your Grace," she began, her voice cool and measured. "Are the preparations for the Solara Princess proceeding as planned? We require... certainty."
Alaric settled into a plush velvet chair, his movements unhurried.
"They are, Lady Selene. Princess Aurelia is… remarkably suitable. Her bloodline is precisely as predicted."
"She will fulfill her purpose for us. And then, as we discussed, she will fulfill hers for the Sunstone Coven."
"The transfer will be discreet, of course, once her pregnancy is confirmed and stable."
He leaned back, a faint, satisfied hum resonating in his chest.
"The Thorne line will secure its future. And in turn, the Sunstone Coven will receive its vital infusion. Everyone gains."
"Indeed," Selene agreed, her lips barely moving. "Our coven has high hopes for the progeny she will bear for us. We trust her assets will be... substantial."
"They will be," Alaric confirmed, his voice devoid of emotion. "She is in peak condition. An excellent specimen. You will be pleased with the results."
"Now, regarding the specific terms of her… relocation to the Obsidian Peaks, and the precise day of her transfer to the Lord of the Southern Wastes, after our business is concluded..."