The room was quiet. Too quiet. The kind that made one’s mind chase its own tail.
I had been reading for hours, eyes dragging over the same page thrice before it stuck. Isla had lent me the book earlier that evening, some romantic fiction she swore would "help me sleep."
But sleep was the last thing I wanted.
I wanted to stay awake.
If my hunch was right, the Queen would come tonight. She always came after an uproar—whenever I stirred the nest too much. She had her ways of appearing uninvited, wrapped in light and secrets.
Still, the book was a good distraction. I traced my finger over a line that was supposed to be romantic, and instead snorted. The heroine in the story had fainted because her lover smiled. Fainted. I couldn’t even imagine it.
My lips twitched. I could still see Claire’s face from dinner—red, flustered, caught between rage and humiliation. I chuckled, closing my eyes for a moment to savor it. Isla and I had played our parts too well.
The best part was how the mighty King Adam had struggled to contain himself. His control was admirable, infuriatingly so. I had wanted him to lash out, to lose that icy composure. But he didn’t. Which made him dangerous.
I turned another page, laughing again when I remembered Claire stamping her hand on the table, demanding my head. Oh, how quickly masks fall when pride is wounded.
A flicker of light caught my attention.
About time...
The glow spread, stretching from the far wall until it filled the room. The air shifted, thickened. The pages of the book fluttered as if caught in a sudden breeze.
And then—she appeared.
The Queen’s imagery was always the same: a bloom of pale light first, then her form emerging from it, every inch regal and cold. She didn’t walk into rooms—she manifested.
"Still awake," she observed, her voice neither soft nor harsh, just sharp enough to cut through the silence.
I placed the book aside. "I was expecting you."
A faint smile touched her lips. "You always do."
She moved closer, her gown whispering against the floor, though I knew this was only a projection. The real Queen was miles away. Still, her presence filled the room like smoke.
"Tell me about the dinner," she said.
I gave her a full account, from the first insult to the last smirk. Every raised brow, every sneer, every flicker of restraint on Adam’s face. She listened without interruption, her expression unreadable.
When I finished, I leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. "My turn to ask questions."
Her brow arched. "Proceed."
"Where’s the old King?"
A pause. Then a dismissive wave. "On vacation with his wife. He claims he deserves peace now that his sons are capable."
I almost laughed. "Peace. In this kingdom? That’s funny."
Her eyes gleamed. "He has no idea what’s brewing beneath that peace."
"Does he know about the bettings?"
She tilted her head, a slight smirk curling her lips. "He doesn’t need to. But yes, they exist. Openly and...otherwise."
"Otherwise meaning the black market?"
Her silence was the answer. Then she added, "The pack is in debt."
I blinked. "What?"
"Severe debt. Not public knowledge, of course, but enough to make them turn entertainment into currency. These contests are their gold mines now."
It sounded absurd at first. A royal pack? In debt? But then again, greed and desperation made fine bedfellows.
"So it’s true then," I murmured. "The mighty kingdom feeds on blood and bets."
"Be glad," she said. "Their desperation works in our favor. Especially since you’ve attracted the highest wagers."
I looked up sharply. "Highest?"
"In the black market, yes. Some say your odds are ten to one. You’re their favorite wildcard."
The corner of my mouth lifted. "Interesting."
"Your prizes will be the same as last year’s finalists," she continued. "Power, position, and a wish of choice."
"I already know my wish."
"I am sure you do."
Silence lingered for a moment. I studied her face—the Queen’s imagery was flawless, but her eyes held exhaustion. Maybe even fear. She was a woman holding strings too tightly.
"What of the men sent after me?" I asked finally.
"They’re dead."
I didn’t flinch. I’d suspected as much. "How?"
"Does it matter?" she replied smoothly. "You’re still here. That’s what matters."
A small hum of acknowledgment left my throat. Then she changed the subject, her tone turning measured. "The vampires have commenced the first part of the mission."
A slow smile spread across my lips. "Good."
Her smile mirrored mine. For a heartbeat, we were two conspirators sharing victory in silence.
I tilted my head slightly. "And Raul? Rachel? Duke?"
"They’re well," she said, with a touch of impatience. "Each playing their role as they should. Your concern is touching, though misplaced."
"I like knowing my pieces are in place," I murmured.
That earned me a genuine smirk. "You’re beginning to sound like me."
"I’ll take that as a compliment."
She turned then, gaze fading to light. "Adam seems...interested."
My pulse didn’t betray me, though her words struck somewhere deep.
"He’s predictable," I said lightly. A Lie most likely, but the Queen didn’t need to know that.
"Good. Keep him that way."
The light dimmed, her figure dissolving into a shimmer before vanishing completely. Only the faint scent of her perfume lingered—something floral, distant, royal.
The room was dark again.
I exhaled slowly, reaching for the book. My fingers brushed the worn cover, but my mind wasn’t in the story anymore. The Queen’s words replayed in my head.
Everything was unfolding as planned.
I smiled to myself.
Then—a knock.
Sharp. Against the window.
I froze. The wind couldn’t knock. My heart raced once before I stood, moving quietly across the floor.
The curtains fluttered slightly. I parted them just enough to peek out into the night. Nothing. Just shadows and moonlight.
Then I felt it—the faint hum of magic. Familiar. Controlled.
"Raul," I whispered.
A shimmer broke near the edge of the window frame, and his head appeared out of thin air, hovering comically without the rest of his body.
"Bloody hell," I hissed, pushing the window open. "Are you insane? Do you want to get killed?"
"Missed you too," he said, grin lazy, boyish even under the cloak’s hood.
"Get in here!"
He slipped inside, pulling off the rest of the invisibility cloak until his tall frame filled the room. I shut the window immediately, turning on him.
"Do you have a death wish? What if someone saw you?" I kept my voice low, angry but laced with worry. "You shouldn’t even be here. If Adam finds out—"
"He won’t."
I glared at him. "That’s not the point!"
He stepped closer, hands sliding to my arms, warmth bleeding through his touch. "I couldn’t stay away anymore."
I tried to keep the annoyance, I really did. But when he smiled, the sharp edges of my anger softened. "You’re reckless," I muttered.
"I missed you," he whispered.
Before I could reply, his lips were on mine.