The castle loomed around Eira like a living thing, its cold stone walls pulsing with a quiet menace that seemed to watch her every move. She kept her steps slow and measured as she wandered its labyrinthine halls, but her breath was shallow, her heart thudding in her chest. The heavy silence of the place amplified every small sound—her footfalls, the faint rustle of her gown, the occasional creak of unseen movement.
She paused at a junction, glancing down the corridors stretching out before her. Shadows pooled in the corners, shifting slightly as if they had minds of their own. The sconces lining the walls flickered weakly, casting long, uncertain shapes across the stone.
She wasn't alone.
She could feel the weight of unseen eyes tracking her movements. Her skin prickled, her instincts screaming that she was prey in a den of predators. But she forced her shoulders back and held her head high. If they wanted her to crumble, they would have to try harder.
Turning left, she passed an arched doorway left ajar. The faint metallic tang of blood caught her attention, stopping her mid-step. Slowly, she edged closer, the unease curling tighter in her stomach.
Inside, the air was heavier, colder. The chamber beyond was lit by guttering candles, their pale light illuminating the dark, sticky stains that marred the stone floor. Symbols—twisting, cryptic runes—were carved into the walls, some filled with dried blood, others still glistening wetly. A chill crawled down Eira's spine as she realized the symbols were too precise, too deliberate, to be random decoration.
The blood-stained room was alive with an oppressive energy, as though the walls had absorbed centuries of suffering. She reached out a trembling hand toward one of the carvings, her fingers hovering just above its surface. The air near it seemed colder, and her breath hitched as the faintest whisper reached her ears.
Her name.
Eira.
She jerked her hand back, her pulse spiking. Turning on her heel, she fled the room, unwilling to linger in the suffocating stillness. The moment she stepped back into the corridor, she felt them again—those eyes. Watching. Waiting.
"Pull yourself together," she whispered under her breath, clutching her trembling hands. She didn't know if the watching figures were real or a figment of her rattled nerves, but either way, she couldn't let them see her fear.
By the time she returned to the castle's main hall, her nerves were frayed. She had wandered too long, her thoughts a chaotic swirl of frustration, anger, and a helplessness she refused to name. The imposing double doors at the far end of the hall creaked open, and her stomach tightened as the faint hum of voices spilled through.
The court.
The whispered disdain of its members filled the cavernous space, a low hiss like wind through dead leaves. Eira squared her shoulders, gritting her teeth as she stepped forward. The sound of her heels against the polished stone echoed sharply, drawing the attention of every pair of eyes in the room.
The murmurs stilled for a moment, but only a moment. Then the laughter began. Low, mocking chuckles that rippled through the gathered vampires. Their gazes raked over her, piercing and dismissive. Her gown, chosen carefully by Caius's attendants, felt heavier than it should, and she fought the urge to fidget under their scrutiny.
"So this is the human bride?" a voice drawled, smooth and dripping with venom. Eira turned her head toward the speaker, a tall vampire lounging carelessly in a gilded chair near the center of the room. His silver eyes gleamed with amusement, his lips curling into a smirk. "I see our lord has developed an… unusual taste."
Another vampire, a woman with hair like spun gold, laughed lightly. "How quaint. I wonder how long she'll last?"
The laughter swelled, cruel and cutting. Eira's nails bit into her palms, but she kept her chin high. She would not falter, not here, not now.
The soft, measured sound of footsteps cut through the noise, and the laughter died abruptly. Eira's heart stuttered as Caius entered the room, his presence a cold tide that silenced even the boldest voices. His golden eyes flicked briefly over the gathered court before settling on her. She stood frozen under his gaze, her breath catching as he approached.
Without a word, he stepped to her side, his hand settling possessively on the small of her back. The touch was light, almost casual, but it burned like a brand. The court's attention snapped to him, their earlier derision replaced with tense silence.
"Lord Caius," the tall vampire said, his smirk faltering slightly. "We were merely… admiring your new bride."
"Were you?" Caius's voice was quiet, but it carried a sharp edge that made the air seem colder. He tilted his head, his golden eyes narrowing. "Strange. It sounded more like questioning."
The vampire shifted uncomfortably, but he held his ground. "It's only natural, my lord. She's… unexpected."
The court erupted in laughter, sharp and cutting, but Eira stood her ground. The vampire's silver-eyed smirk was a dare she refused to rise to. Instead, she let her gaze sweep over the gathered nobles, her lips curving into a faint, defiant smile.
"I didn't realize humor was such a staple here," she said evenly, letting her voice carry just enough to cut through the noise. "Though I admit, I've yet to hear anything particularly clever."
Her words hung in the air, the laughter faltering into scattered whispers. A few pairs of eyes narrowed, their amusement cooling into something colder, sharper. But one or two faint smiles flickered, as though they were entertained despite themselves.
Eira didn't flinch, though her heart pounded hard enough that she was certain Caius could hear it. The faintest flicker of amusement crossed his face, but he didn't move.
Let me handle this, her defiant glare seemed to say.
Another noble, a woman with ice-blonde hair and a dress like liquid gold, leaned forward. Her voice was honeyed, but her words dripped with venom. "How quaint. I wonder if Lord Caius brought you here for entertainment or if this is just an… experiment."
The words stung, but Eira didn't falter. "Call it what you want," she replied coolly. "But I'm the one standing here. You're the one sitting there, trying to make yourself feel bigger."
The woman's smile vanished. Eira let her gaze sweep the room, her pulse steadying as she took them in. Not everyone seemed to share the blonde woman's malice; a vampire near the edge of the crowd leaned back, his mouth twitching with what might have been faint amusement. Others whispered to one another, their expressions cautious, almost wary. Not all of them were laughing.
Caius stepped forward then, his golden eyes sharp as a blade. His hand found the small of Eira's back, and though the touch steadied her, she didn't lean into it.
"Enough," he said, his voice quiet but iron-edged. "You may question your place here," he continued, letting his gaze sweep the room. "But not mine."
The court stilled as one, the air seeming to chill with his arrival. A few vampires straightened in their seats, their earlier arrogance giving way to something colder—respect, or perhaps fear. Eira didn't need to look to know Caius was watching her; his presence was like a storm cloud rolling closer, heavy and unrelenting.
Eira didn't resist when he guided her from the room, his hand lingering as they stepped into the quiet corridor. She didn't wait for him to speak.
"You didn't have to intervene," she said, glancing up at him.
"No?" Caius's tone was mild, though his eyes were still sharp with lingering irritation. "And what would you have done?"
"Exactly what I did," Eira said. Her voice softened, though her words didn't lose their edge. "You might enjoy a fight, but I prefer making them look foolish."
Caius tilted his head, studying her as though she were an unfamiliar painting he couldn't quite interpret. Finally, his lips curved into a faint, unreadable smile. "Perhaps there's hope for you yet, little lamb."
She rolled her eyes. Let him think he had the upper hand—for now. "I don't need you to fight my battles."
"Perhaps not," he said, his voice smooth but edged with steel. "But I will not stand for disrespect. Toward either of us."
Her cheeks burned, anger and something else coiling in her chest. "I'm not your possession."
"No," he said, his tone quieting, almost contemplative. "But you are my bride. And they will remember that."
She opened her mouth to argue but stopped. There was no point, not now. Instead, she turned away, her hands curling into fists at her sides.
Let them mock her. Let Caius claim her. For now. But someday, they would see her as more than just the human bride. Not because she would endure, but because she would carve out her place here—on her terms.
She will prove herself.
Someday, they would all see.