Chapter four: shadows in the Hall
The dining hall was a grand yet cold chamber, its walls draped in heavy paintings and its chandeliers casting a dim, golden glow over the long table. At the head of the table sat the King, his imposing presence commanding attention even as his expression betrayed indifference. To his right, Crown Prince Alaric lounged with a self-assured air, his sharp gaze sweeping over everyone like a predator surveying its prey. Beside him sat his wife, Clara, her elegance tempered by an unmistakable edge of cruelty. Despite her icy demeanor, the little girl perched beside her, their daughter Isabelle, brought an air of innocence to the otherwise tense gathering. On the King's left sat Prince Hector, the second son, who leaned back lazily, ithis disinterest in the proceedings palpable.
At the far end of the table, far removed from the King's reach, Draven and Elara took their seats. Draven's calm demeanor betrayed little, but Elara could sense the tension simmering beneath his calm exterior. The distance between their seats and the royal family was not just physical; it was a deliberate reminder of Draven's standing. Elara felt the weight of the room's judgment on her as eyes darted her way. She straightened her shoulders, determined to meet their gazes with quiet dignity, even as her heart pounded in her chest. This was not the warm family gathering she had once dreamed of—it was a battlefield cloaked in decorum.
The feast began in stiff silence, the clinking of silverware against porcelain the only sound echoing through the dining hall. Elara kept her eyes down, focusing on the meal before her. The tension in the room was suffocating, with unspoken words and unshed grievances hanging in the air.
It wasn't long before Clara broke the silence, her voice dripping with feigned sweetness. "So, Elara, tell us about yourself," she said, setting her fork down delicately. "What did you do before becoming a vampire princess? I imagine the vampire court life must be quite the adjustment for someone… inexperienced."
Elara looked up, feeling the sting of the thinly veiled insult. "I was educated in the arts," she replied carefully. "I studied poetry and painting."
Clara raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching in mock amusement. "Poetry and painting? How quaint. Perhaps you'll grace us with a performance."
Before Elara could respond, Crown Prince Alaric chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Yes, dear sister-in-law, enlighten us. Surely a human upbringing has given you unique insights."
Elara felt heat rise in her cheeks but forced herself to remain composed. She met Clara's gaze head-on. "If it would please the room," she said, her voice steady, "I will share a poem."
The room fell silent, Clara's smirk faltering as Elara began:
"Life is a fleeting shadow, fleeting in the sun's embrace.
A delicate thread, both strong and fragile in time's race.
It weaves through joy, through pain, through endless strife,
Teaching us to cherish each moment of life."
When she finished, the room was silent for a beat before Alaric spoke, his tone laced with begrudging admiration. "Not bad, for someone so new to vampire court life."
Clara's expression soured, and she quickly turned her attention to her plate. But Alaric wasn't finished. His gaze shifted to Draven, and a sly smile crept across his face.
"Speaking of unique, Draven," Alaric began, his tone turning sharper, "have you told your bride about your childhood? About the mask?"
Elara felt Draven stiffen beside her, his hand tightening on his fork.
"The mask?" she asked, looking between them.
Alaric's grin widened. "Oh, he hasn't told you? Our dear brother had to wear a mask for most of his childhood. You see, he was born to a woman who had no place in this court. A pretty face, yes, but nothing more. Father couldn't even bear to look at him because he resembled her so much."
Clara chuckled softly, adding, "Imagine growing up like that. It must have been dreadful."
Elara's heart ached at the cruel words, and she couldn't ignore the pain flickering in Draven's crimson eyes, though he tried to hide it. Without thinking, she reached out and placed her hand on his, drawing all attention to the gesture.
"That's enough," she said firmly, her voice cutting through the tension. "Whatever Draven's past may be, it is just that—the past. He has shown me more strength and kindness in our short time together than some display in a lifetime."
The room fell into an uneasy silence, Clara and Alaric exchanging glances. Elara didn't let her gaze waver, holding her ground as the tension slowly dissipated.
The rest of the meal passed in relative quiet, though the air remained heavy with unspoken words. When it finally ended, Draven escorted Elara back to their chambers.
As they entered, Draven paused by the door, his voice soft. "Thank you, Elara," he said, his eyes meeting hers. "For what you did back there."
Elara gave him a small smile. "We're in this together, Draven. I won't let anyone hurt you—not even your family."
For a moment, the weight on his shoulders seemed to lessen, and though he didn't say it, Elara could see his gratitude in the faint curve of his lips.
---
The next morning, Elara woke to find Draven gone again. The quietness of the room felt even more pronounced without his presence. She dressed in a simple pale blue gown and decided to have her breakfast in the garden, hoping the calm surroundings would soothe her unease.
The garden was breathtaking in the soft morning light. The dew glistened on the petals of vibrant flowers, and the air was filled with the scent of fresh earth and blooming jasmine. Elara found a stone table tucked beneath a sprawling willow tree, where the servants had set a light breakfast of fresh fruit, pastries, and tea.
As she sipped her tea and took in the serene atmosphere, a faint rustling caught her attention. She turned to see a small figure peeking hesitantly from behind a rose bush. It was Isabelle, the Crown Prince's young daughter.
Elara smiled warmly, keeping her movements gentle. "Good morning," she said softly. "Would you like to join me?"
Isabelle didn't move at first, her wide eyes studying Elara with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. She clutched a small doll to her chest and hesitated before stepping closer.
"Papa says humans are fragile," Isabelle said in a small voice, her fangs peeking out slightly as she spoke. "Is it true?"
Elara's smile didn't falter, though her heart ached for the child's guarded demeanor. "Humans are delicate in some ways," she admitted, "but we're also strong in others. Would you like to sit with me and share some breakfast?"
Isabelle tilted her head, as if weighing the offer carefully, before nodding. She climbed onto the seat opposite Elara and eyed the spread of food.
"I've never had human food before," Isabelle admitted, her small hands hovering over a plate of pastries.
"Try this," Elara suggested, picking up a soft roll and offering it to her. "It's sweet, like honey."
Isabelle took the roll hesitantly, nibbling on it before her eyes widened with delight. "It's good!" she exclaimed, her shyness beginning to melt away.
Elara chuckled. "I'm glad you like it."
As they shared breakfast, Isabelle became more animated, asking questions about Elara's world and her life before coming to the vampire kingdom. Elara answered each one patiently, enjoying the child's company.
After the meal, Isabelle suggested exploring the garden together. They wandered through the rows of flowers, Isabelle's laughter filling the air as she ran ahead to inspect the blossoms. For a moment, Elara forgot her own worries, swept up in the child's innocent joy.
Their peaceful morning was interrupted by a sharp voice.
"Isabelle!"
Elara turned to see Clara approaching, her expression tight and displeased. She strode across the garden with all the grace of a predator, her eyes locking onto her daughter and then flicking to Elara.
"There you are," Clara said coolly. "What are you doing out here?"
"We were having breakfast," Elara explained, keeping her tone neutral. "Isabelle was kind enough to show me around the garden."
Clara's lips curved into a cold smile. "How thoughtful of her. But it's time for her lessons now." She held out a hand toward Isabelle.
Isabelle hesitated, glancing up at Elara. "Can I come back later?"
Clara's smile tightened. "You'll have plenty of time for that another day. Come now."
Reluctantly, Isabelle released Elara's hand and followed her mother, casting one last glance over her shoulder as they left.
Elara watched them go, the warmth of the morning now tinged with a subtle chill. She knew her place in this world was precarious, and moments like these would not go unnoticed.