In the kingdom of Valtheris, power was never singular, and it was never simple.
It did not belong to humans alone, nor to any one bloodline that claimed dominance over the rest. Instead, it wove itself through the veins of many—ancient, dangerous, and ever-shifting. Vampires walked openly through court, their elegance disguising the quiet threat that lingered beneath their skin, their immortality giving them patience that no human could rival. Day walkers—humans—filled the lower ranks, the unseen hands that kept the kingdom functioning, their lives shorter, their voices quieter, but their presence unavoidable.
And beyond them, there were others.
Creatures who did not name themselves so easily.
Things that watched from shadows, listened from high rafters, and moved between spaces no one else noticed.
Tonight, all of them gathered beneath one roof.
The doors to the east hall stood wide open, spilling golden light into the dim corridor like an invitation Avery wasn't sure she wanted to accept.
Music drifted outward in slow, elegant waves, each note blending seamlessly into the next. Violins carried the melody, soft but commanding, while laughter threaded through it—light, practiced, effortless. It was the kind of sound that belonged to people who had never had to earn their place in a room like this.
Avery stood just outside the threshold, her hands steady at her sides, though her chest felt tighter than she liked. From where she stood, she could see everything—the shimmer of movement, the glow of candlelight, the quiet display of power wrapped in silk and jewels.
Her uniform marked her place clearly. Her hair was in a loose, low bun with loose curls. She wore a deep red dress with long sleeves, the fabric simple but neatly pressed, paired with a white Venetian half-mask that concealed the upper half of her face. It was standard for servants during events like this, elegant enough to blend into the spectacle, but impersonal enough to remind everyone exactly what she was.
Marcelline had personally overseen her appearance, adjusting every detail with sharp precision before sending her out to serve. Avery's task was clear: circulate through the ballroom, offering drinks and savory bites.
"You will serve," Marcelline had told her earlier, her tone leaving no space for error. "Drinks. Savory bites. You will move through the room and you will not be noticed."
And Avery had nodded, because there was nothing else to do.
Now, she stepped inside.
The shift was immediate. The air felt heavier, warmer, filled with too many voices layered over one another. The scent of perfume and polished wood lingered beneath the glow of candlelight, mixed with something sharper—something metallic that always seemed to follow those who weren't entirely human.
A tray was pressed into her hands as she passed another servant, the weight of crystal glasses grounding her instantly. She adjusted her grip without hesitation, her movements smooth, practiced, controlled.
"Careful," Solyn murmured as she appeared beside her, reaching for a cloth as if she had always been there. "You look like you're about to break something." She was wearing the standard servant outfit as well.
"I'm fine," Avery replied quietly, offering a glass to a passing noble without lifting her gaze.
"You always say that," Solyn said, her voice light, though her eyes were sharper than usual. "It's getting less convincing every time."
Avery ignored that, moving forward, offering another drink. "Wine?"
The noble barely glanced at her as he took it. "Mm. Thank you."
She dipped her head slightly and moved on.
"You're stiff," Solyn murmured as she appeared at her side, adjusting her own tray as if she had always been there.
"I'm fine," Avery replied quietly, offering another glass to a passing guest.
"You look like you're about to poison someone," Solyn added, her tone light, though her eyes were sharp with observation.
Avery almost huffed. "I might."
Solyn let out a quiet snort before leaning in slightly, her voice dropping. "She's here."
Avery stilled for half a second before continuing, her voice steady. "Of course she is."
"You didn't think she'd miss this, did you?"
Sloane never missed anything important.
And she especially never missed opportunities.
Slowly, despite herself, Avery lifted her gaze.
Lady Sloane, Corbin's fiance, stood near the center of the ballroom, exactly where she was meant to be. The space seemed to shift around her, attention settling naturally in her direction without her ever needing to demand it. She wore silver that caught the light like something deliberate, something sharp rather than soft. Her dark hair fell perfectly into place, her posture effortless, her smile warm as she spoke to those gathered around her. Her ruby red eyes shone as she took a sip of wine. She wasn't human like Avery or Solyn. She was a vampire, the daughter of Duchess Viktoria, a respected, high member of Valtheris' court and a bitch.
A sheep, that's what everyone saw. But Avery remembered the wolf. "She looks the same," she said quietly. Solyn's mouth tightened. "That's because she hasn't changed.".
Years ago, when she had first arrived at the castle, she had been too new, too unaware of how power really worked in a place like this. Sloane had noticed her quickly, her attention unexpected, her kindness even more so. She had smiled at Avery like she mattered, like she was more than just another servant blending into the walls.
"I like you," Sloane had said back then, her voice soft, her gaze warm in a way that had felt almost genuine. "You're different."
Avery had believed her.
Of course she had.
She had been young enough to mistake attention for kindness, to think that someone like Sloane could actually mean it.
At first, it had been small things—being called over more often than the others, being trusted with simple tasks, being spoken to like she was worth noticing. It had felt like something rare.
Something good.
Until it wasn't.
The memory came back sharp and unwelcome—the night everything changed. A noblewoman's necklace had gone missing, something valuable, irreplaceable. The castle had turned tense, whispers spreading quickly, accusations forming just as fast.
And somehow—
it had ended up in Avery's possession.
"I didn't take it," Avery had said, her voice shaking as guards surrounded her, their hands already too close, their judgment already decided.
Sloane had been there.
Watching.
Not speaking.
Not helping.
Just watching.
Later, when the necklace had been "found" elsewhere and the situation had quietly dissolved, when Avery had been spared punishment but not suspicion, Sloane had approached her again with that same gentle smile.
"You should be more careful," she had said softly, reaching up to adjust the collar of Avery's uniform as if she were fixing something insignificant. "People like you don't get second chances."
That was the moment Avery understood.
The kindness had never been real.
The attention had never been harmless.
Sloane didn't destroy people loudly.
She did it carefully.
Quietly.
So no one ever blamed her.
So no one ever saw it coming.
Back in the present, Avery's stomach tightened as Sloane turned—her gaze finding her instantly, as if she had known exactly where to look all along. A slow, knowing smile curved her lips, warm enough to fool anyone else.
"Don't react," Solyn whispered quickly.
"I'm not," Avery replied, though her pulse had already betrayed her.
Sloane began walking toward her, unhurried, composed, the crowd parting for her without question. Every step was deliberate, every movement controlled, as if she were following a script only she understood.
She stopped in front of Avery.
"Avery," Sloane said softly.
"My lady," Avery replied, lowering her gaze immediately.
"It's been a while," Sloane continued, her voice smooth, almost fond.
"Yes, my lady."
Sloane's eyes moved over her slowly, taking in the mask, the uniform, the stillness. "You've improved," she said lightly. "You used to be easier to read."
Avery kept her expression neutral. "I've learned, my lady."
"Yes," Sloane said, reaching for a glass from the tray. "I can see that."
She lifted it slightly, her gaze lingering.
"I always admired how well you adapt," she added, her tone soft, almost kind. "It's such a useful trait."
A pause.
Then quieter—
"Knowing your place."
Avery's fingers tightened around the tray, but her posture didn't shift. "Of course, my lady."
For a moment, Sloane simply watched her, as if waiting for something—reaction, defiance, anything.
Avery gave her nothing.
Sloane smiled.
And then she stepped away.
Like nothing had happened.
"I swear one day—" Solyn muttered under her breath as she moved closer again.
"Don't," Avery cut in quietly. "She's not worth it."
But the tension didn't settle.
Because the room shifted.
The doors opened once more, and this time the change was immediate, conversation softened, attention shifted, and even the music seemed to lower in response.
Corbin had arrived.
Avery's breath caught despite herself as she looked up. He stood in the doorway, his presence commanding without effort, his gaze already scanning the room as nobles turned toward him. But he wasn't alone.
The girl beside him stood out immediately—not because she tried to, but because she didn't. There was no performance in her posture, no careful shaping of expression to please those around her. She simply observed, her gaze sharp, her presence steady in a way that felt almost unsettling.
"…that's her," Solyn whispered.
Avery didn't answer.
Because the girl's eyes were already moving—watching, measuring—
And then they landed on her.
Avery stilled.
Just for a second.
But it was enough.
There was no smile. No reaction. Just recognition.
Then the girl looked away, as if Avery had already been understood and dismissed in the same breath.
"…I don't like her," Solyn murmured.
Avery swallowed slowly. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Me neither."
But across the room Corbin was still looking at her.
Sloane was watching that too.The night had only just begun and Avery already knew this was where everything would start to fall apart.
TO BE CONTINUE....