Elowen stood before the cracked mirror, her heart beating somewhere between excitement and dread. She wore one of her best dresses- dark emerald green, not gently, cinched with a modern satin ribbon. The color lit her eyes- those shimmering green gems rimmed with thick lashes- and contrasted perfectly with her warm- toned skin and dark, curled hair, which she'd let fall loosely down her back.
But the shoes. Oh, the shoes.
A pair of faded black pumps with worn- out soles and a scuffed heel.
"Are you going to wear that?" Mariane's voice rang from the door, eyes narrowed at her feet like they'd just insulted her ancestors.
Elowen glanced down. "It's… decent."
"It's old," Marianne said, walking in and circling her like a tailor with a vendetta. "Seems you really love that shoe."
Maeryn leaned from the kitchen, holding a towel. "She's in a mansion now, and she's showing up like a school teacher from a crumbling parish,"
"I love it." Elowen replied, chin high. "It's comfortable- even if not classy."
Marianne sighed dramatically. "Comfort won't impress the devil."
"Good," Elowen said, smirking. "I'm not here to impress him."
The carriage was already waiting at the park square, a local trader's cart that doubled as transport. Elowen climbed in, smoothing her skirt and feeling the weight of the sealed letter in her bag.
She exhaled deeply as the cart rolled forward, it's wooden wheels creaking under the morning sun.
Soon, the looming silhouette of the Ravenshade estate rose from the mist, just as she remembered it- stone walls blackened by centuries, tall iron gates wrapped in crawling ivy, and turrets that touched the grey sky like fingers stretching toward secrets.
It looked like something between a palace and a mausoleum.
The driver stopped at the outer gate, and Tomas was already there, gloved hands behind his back, eyes like polished steel.
"Miss Grantham," he said with a slight bow.
She stepped down, her shoe catching slightly on the carriage edge. Tomas's gaze flicked to the offending footwear and back to her face without a word.
He turned and let her in.
The drawing room was as daunting as the exterior- gilded moldings, velvet drapes, the scent of something faintly spicy and ancient. Elowen barely had time to take it all in when the air shifted.
A cold, aristocratic presence swept into the room like wind through an open crypt.
Lady Morganna Ravenshade.
Tall, regal, and impossibly pale, she paused at the threshold, fur- lined cloak sliding from her shoulders. Her expression turned sour the moment her eyes landed on Elowen.
"Who let fleas in here?" she asked, voice like ice scraping porcelain.
Elowen inhaled deeply, held her chin high. "Good morning, Ma'am. I'm Elowen Grantham. I was invited as the new Personal Assistant to Lord Ravenshade."
Morgana raised one thin brow. The coldness in her expression flickered- just a touch of surprise beneath that glacial composure.
"You?" she said, circling Elowen like a lioness sizing up a squirrel. "You speak well for a flea."
"Thank you," Elowen replied smoothly. "I find that clarity is useful in both fleas and assistants."
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then Morganna's lip curved- barely. "You've got tongue. Let's see if you have spine."
Julian watched the entire scene unfold from his balcony above.
The second the local cart stopped, he had been there- wine glass in hand, cloak draped carelessly over one shoulder, those sly vampiric eyes narrowed with anticipation.
There she was. Beautiful in a quiet, earthy way. Bold, yes- but oh, those shoes.
He chuckled softly, speaking to no one.
"Such dramatic shoes for such a bold girl. You really do want to be noticed, don't you, wildflower?"
He could hear every word of exchange with his mother. He smiled when Elowen introduced herself with calm professionalism. His mother's surprise had been delicious- she'd hidden it well, but not well enough for his eyes.
Back below, Tomas interrupted the stare- off between Elowen and Lady Morganna with a soft cough. "If you follow me, Miss Grantham."
She nodded, tearing her gaze from the woman and falling in step behind him.
As they ascended the staircase, portraits lined the stone walls. Ancient faces locked in painted stares, eyes glowing subtly in the dim candlelight.
She passed a particular large portrait- an old family scene. Lady Morganna at the center, regal as ever. Beside her, the deceased Lord Ravenshade. A younger , radiant woman to the left- a carbon copy of the Lord himself- perhaps his daughter. All pureblood vampires with that same otherworldly glow.
And then… him.
Her eyes narrowed.
"The piece of shit," she muttered before she could catch herself.
Tomas paused mid- step, then continued as if he hadn't heard.
But he had.
Half – vampire senses made eavesdropping easier. He only allowed for a tiny smirk to touch his lips.
"Who am I assigned to?" Elowen asked as they neared a thick oak door.
"Lord Ravenshade himself," Tomas replied coldly.
Elowen exhaled in relief. "So… his father?"
Tomas stopped at the final stair. "The former Lord Ravenshade passed away."
He turned slowly, letting the full weight of the moment fall on her.
"The current Lord is Julian Ravenshade."
Elowen's heart skipped.
Julian heard it.
He leaned closer to the door, lips curling. That heartbeat. That stumble. She knew now.
Tomas reached for the brass handle. The massive doors opened with an eerie grace.
Elowen stepped inside.
And the devil was waiting.