The servant's hands worked quickly, weaving strands of Eira's hair into an intricate style as she sat stiffly at the vanity. The faint scent of lavender from the styling oil lingered in the air, mingling with the dry, smoky aroma of the ever-present candles. The polished silver mirror reflected her own pale face—set, determined, but far from at ease.
Eira's fingers tightened around the edge of the chair. Tonight was to be her first formal appearance at court, a prospect that had filled her with equal parts dread and defiance. She could already imagine the sharp gazes of the vampires gathered in Caius's hall, their cruel smiles as they weighed her, dissected her, and dismissed her.
They wouldn't see her as an equal. Not tonight, not ever. But she wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing her falter. If she had to stand in a den of wolves, she'd do it with her chin held high, even if her knees were shaking beneath the fabric of her gown.
To them, she was a fragile human pretending to belong in their world, a curiosity at best and an insult at worst. The thought made her chest tighten, but she refused to show weakness—not to them, and especially not to him.
"Almost done, miss," the servant murmured, her voice soft but nervous. She was young, human like Eira, and she moved with the brisk efficiency of someone used to keeping her head down.
Eira opened her mouth to thank her, but the door swung open without warning, the sound echoing sharply through the room.
The servant froze, the brush trembling in her hand, as Caius stepped inside.
He didn't announce himself—he never did. His gaze swept the room, sharp and assessing, before settling on Eira. For a moment, his golden eyes softened, just barely, as they took in her appearance. She was dressed in a gown of deep green that contrasted starkly with her pale skin, the neckline modest but the cut undeniably regal.
"Leave us," he said, his tone cool but not harsh.
The servant bobbed a quick curtsy, hastily gathering her tools before disappearing through the door.
Eira met Caius's gaze in the mirror. "Do you ever knock?"
"In my castle?" he asked, the faintest trace of amusement flickering at the corner of his mouth.
She turned in her chair to face him fully, her pulse quickening despite herself. His presence filled the room, sharp and unrelenting, as if the air itself bent to accommodate him. He looked the same as always—impossibly composed in dark attire that fit him too perfectly, his golden eyes steady and unreadable.
"Is this a courtesy visit, or are you here to give more orders?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light but unable to fully mask her nerves.
"Neither," he replied, stepping closer. His gaze swept over her, lingering on the gown before returning to her eyes. "I came to ensure you understand the stakes tonight."
Eira bristled. "You mean you came to lecture me."
Caius's lips twitched into something that wasn't quite a smile. "If that's what you need." He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping lower. "They'll be watching you. Judging. Waiting for any sign of weakness. You cannot give them that."
Eira swallowed hard, her hands tightening on the arms of the chair. "I know that."
"Do you?" Caius straightened, his tone sharper now. "This is not Ravensmoor, Eira. The court is full of vipers who would see you fail, if only to amuse themselves. They'll pick at every flaw, every misstep, until there's nothing left of you but bones for them to gnaw on. The court thrives on weakness, and it doesn't forget."
The words stung, not because she didn't already know them, but because they came from him. She hated how much weight his approval seemed to carry, how much sharper his critiques felt compared to the others.
"Then it's a good thing I don't care what they think," Eira shot back, rising from her chair.
The words came out more boldly than she'd intended, but she didn't back down. For a moment, Caius said nothing, his eyes narrowing as he studied her. Then, to her surprise, he stepped closer, his voice softening.
"Careless bravery will not protect you," he said quietly. "But confidence might. Hold your head high, and let them wonder why I chose you."
His words sank deep, cutting through her bravado. Eira held his gaze, her chest tightening with something she couldn't quite name.
"Are you ready?" he asked, stepping back and extending his hand.
She hesitated for only a moment before placing her hand in his. His grip was firm and strangely grounding as they walked the long hallway to the council chamber.
The council hall was vast and cold, the flickering light of candled chandeliers casting long shadows across the stone walls. The air was thick with the hum of conversation, a hundred voices weaving together in a dissonant murmur.
Eira entered at Caius's side, her steps measured to match his. Her gaze remained straight ahead, though she couldn't stop herself from catching the glances cast in her direction. The vampires around her whispered behind polished smiles, their words faint but unmistakable.
"She's human," one voice murmured, the disdain curling through the air like smoke.
"What is she even doing here?" another said, softer, but no less cruel.
"Surely, this is some kind of joke," came a third, followed by a faint, mocking laugh.
Eira's spine stiffened, and she forced herself to lift her chin. Every instinct screamed at her to shrink into herself, to flee from the heavy weight of their scrutiny, but she wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
She could feel their eyes picking her apart—the cut of her gown, the unremarkable pallor of her skin, the rhythm of her pulse as it betrayed her unease. Compared to the vampires' ethereal beauty, their perfect, frozen elegance, Eira felt achingly human. Mortal. Fragile.
Caius stopped near the head of the hall, his presence commanding enough to draw the room to a hush without a single word. Eira remained at his side, her heart pounding as the whispers died away, replaced by the oppressive silence of a hundred predators watching her.
A vampire with a sneering smile stepped forward, his dark eyes gleaming with malice. He was tall, lean, and radiated an air of smug superiority that made Eira's teeth clench.
"Well. This is a surprise. Tell me, Lord Caius," the man drawled, his voice carrying easily through the room. "What is it like, I wonder, to hold the leash of something so… fragile? Or is she merely a distraction, a passing novelty until you find a more fitting companion?"
Eira felt the weight of the words as though they were meant to knock her down. The room stilled, every gaze flickering between the noble and Caius. Eira's pulse thundered in her ears, and the weight of their scrutiny pressed harder against her chest. A part of her wanted to lash out, to match his sneer with a cutting remark of her own, but the thought of stumbling over her words—or worse, of being laughed at—kept her silent.
Her heart thundered in her chest, a sharp contrast to the eerie stillness of the room. Every second felt heavier than the last, the silence pressing against her like a hand at her throat. She wanted to look at Caius, to see how he would respond, but some stubborn instinct kept her gaze locked on the noble, refusing to flinch.
Out of her peripherals, she saw Caius's head turn slowly toward him, the calm precision of the motion far more dangerous than any sudden shift. The room felt poised on a knife's edge, waiting for his response.
The silence that followed was deafening, every second stretching unbearably until Caius's voice cut through it like steel.
"Careful, Anton," Caius said, his tone low and deceptively calm. "Your tongue is sharper than your wit. It would be a shame to lose it."
Anton's smug expression fell away, a flicker of unease crossing his features before he stepped back, muttering something unintelligible.
A ripple of unease swept through the crowd. Some vampires averted their eyes, their whispered conversations faltering into silence. A few leaned closer to their companions, speaking in low, hurried tones that Eira couldn't make out. Some faces turned away, pretending indifference, while others seemed to watch with keen interest.
Were they impressed by Caius's threat, or merely amused?
A man with silver-streaked hair on the far side of the hall watched Caius intently, his sharp gaze lingering for a moment too long before shifting to Eira. A pale woman nearby, her lips painted crimson, arched a brow and smirked, as though amused by the exchange.
Eira exhaled slowly, her shoulders loosening slightly. But before she could fully recover, Caius's voice rang out again, cold and precise.
"Let me make one thing clear: Eira is my wife. She stands beside me, and any insult to her is an insult to me." His gaze swept over the crowd, sharp and unyielding. "You would all do well to remember that."
The tension in the room thickened, but no one dared to respond. Slowly, the murmur of conversation resumed, though it was quieter now, more subdued.
The weight of the evening didn't ease as they took their places at the head of the hall. Caius sat in a high-backed chair of dark wood and silver, his posture effortlessly regal. Eira settled in the smaller chair beside him, the fabric of her gown pooling around her feet as she tried to mimic his composed stillness.