"Margaret!" Gwen called, reaching for her.
But Margaret didn't respond. Her pulse quickened. Her eyes locked on a shadowy spot across the hall. She couldn't feel his heartbeat, there was none, but she'd heard the faint exhale, a slow, deliberate puff of air.
He was here.
She was sure of it.
He had been standing right there, where her instincts screamed. The dim lighting cloaked the hall in thick shadows. To the side, near a large caramel-colored vase, something stirred—subtle, silent. He was hiding there, watching her.
But why?
Why was he here?
He should've stayed in his room—or been off, fulfilling some royal task.
"Margaret," Gwen tried again, her voice tinged with worry. She followed Margaret's gaze, but only frowned. "Is something wrong?"
Maybe Gwen should tell her the truth. About him. But what if he was just here on duty? He protected the crown, after all.
For years now, she'd felt it—walking the garden paths, strolling the palace roads—those subtle signs, the presence of shadow vampires. Smiles that didn't quite reach the eyes. Movements too still.
She'd always sensed them.
But this time, it wasn't just another shadow.
It was Dante.
"Someone's there," Margaret whispered.
She didn't want to explain everything, not yet. But she had to say something. Gwen always knew when something was off. She had a way of pulling the truth out of her, one word at a time.
Without hesitation, Gwen sprang into action. She grabbed a wall lamp, holding it out like a sword. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the shadows.
"Who's there?" she called out, voice sharp and clear.
Margaret smacked her forehead. Maybe telling her wasn't the brightest idea.
"Margaret, get behind me," Gwen ordered, giving her no time to argue. She shoved her gently backward and thrust the book into her hands. "Hold my precious book."
Then, holding out her free hand, she added, "Now grab on to me."
Margaret obeyed, her fingers curling around Gwen's arm. A small smile played on her lips—half amusement, half awe. She wanted to say it wasn't that serious, that Gwen was overreacting. But Gwen would never believe her.
"Show your face!" Gwen demanded, swinging the light in every direction. Then, without turning, she whispered, "Where's the intruder hiding?"
Margaret glanced at the spot where she'd felt it—his presence. His scent still lingered, faint but undeniable. He was there. Still watching. Still near. But the light had forced him to retreat.
She remembered—light weakened him.
"I don't sense him anymore," she lied, her voice calm.
Maybe he hadn't come to protect her. Maybe he came just to see her. And oh, how she wished she could see him too. But it was safer like this. Safer for them both.
Gwen eyed her, one brow arched. "Are you sure? I'm ready to fight. That intruder better know stalking us comes with consequences."
Margaret smiled faintly. "We'll be late for the ball."
That worked.
Gwen's expression shifted. "Right. The ball."
Gwen returned the lamp to its place, still holding onto Margaret as they walked toward their destination—Gwen leading like an older sister.
Margaret glanced back, just once. She squinted into the shadows.
And there he was.
Still cloaked in that brown robe. Still watching.
His eyes—dark, unreadable—were locked on hers. Empty, yet intense. His lips pressed into a thin, unmoving line.
It took everything in her not to look again.
Why?
Why had he come out here? Why seek her?
He wasn't supposed to…
Then why did he?
The question lingered, heavy and unanswered, maybe it had been a mistake—to run, to explore that forbidden wing, to open that hidden door.
Maybe then… she wouldn't be thinking of him.
Even though she knew she shouldn't.
=======
"You are the most beautiful… oh!" Gwen's eyes twinkled.
From the mirror, Margaret stared at the crown nestled in her white curls. Her powdered face looked pale and smooth, her lips stained cherry red.
What was she even dressing up for? She had no interest in any of the suitors—heaven help her.
"I assure you," Gwen's voice dropped into a playful hush, her brows arched like someone carrying a thousand juicy secrets, "you're going to turn heads. And when you do, you'll be shocked by how many handsome men—"
"Alright, alright," Margaret cut in, laughing as she shook her head. "I believe that's become the ball's motto by now. But I do want to believe you're right."
"Indeed."
Margaret rose from the seat. The candlelight washed over her face, catching the glint of the crystal crown. Her gaze met the mirror again, and for a moment, she paused—stunned by what she saw.
Deep, dark eyes.
Soft, round face.
White curls tucked behind the crown like spun moonlight.
She formed an O with her mouth, stepping back slightly. No—she wouldn't let herself be swept away. It was just powder and color.
That's all.
That's why she looked… pretty.
Sometimes, she wondered if she'd make a good queen, someday—like her mother.
But she didn't just want to be queen.
She wanted to rule.
And she'd do it gladly—without a king.
But would the people of Ravencreast accept that?
Would her father?
He never minded the idea of a woman on the throne. But the fact that she had no interest in marrying—not yet, not until she was strong enough—that might be harder for him to accept.
She drew in a breath. There was nothing she could do.
She was a princess.
Even if she wasn't human, tradition still bound her. She would be expected to choose a companion—someone to mate with. They said a vampire's power grew remarkably stronger after mating.
Or so she'd heard.
Gwen stepped behind her and gave her shoulders a playful squeeze. They giggled at their reflection in the mirror.
Then Gwen's hazel eyes softened. "I'm so happy for you. Soon, you'll have a husband—and I'll be godmother to your little heirs."
Margaret turned to her, grinning. "Don't you want to marry too?"
Gwen waved a hand dramatically. "Oh, you know that's all I think about—reading these books written by humans." She raised the book she'd been clutching. Only now did Margaret catch the title—something about a mad prince, but Gwen quickly flipped it shut before she could read more.
"They have very high standards in marriage, those humans," Gwen giggled. "Love is everything to them. Just like power is everything to us. You know, maybe I should marry a human. If they give love and I give protection, I'd get that love back tenfold."
Margaret swallowed hard.
Dante wasn't human.
He was a vampire bound by duty. Always focused. Always distant.
Would he have looked at her differently if he were human?
She shut her eyes. There was no point in thinking like that. It's not like she was interested in love… or marriage.
Gwen believed it was what Margaret needed. She never understood why Margaret chose sword fighting, when her parents had more than enough power to protect her.
Warm hands closed gently around hers.
She opened her eyes to Gwen's narrowed hazel gaze and steady face.
"Ready?" Gwen asked.
Margaret nodded and smiled. "Ready."