Upon the morning glow radiating kisses along Lor’s skin, the bedroom door creaked open, a trail of footsteps rushing inside.

Her eyes popped open to find Fay easing toward the bed. The shy maid’s toes fixed to the floor, heels slamming backward since Lor beat her to the task of wake. Fay bowed her head permanently, a questionable amount of worry wearing the face, and said, “Good morning, my lady. Since you’re up, I’ll start your bath.” She shifted around and eased toward the washroom, but did not get far.

“So, you’re a mixed blood?” said Lor.

“Yes.” She waddled around, chin and gaze lifted, with the smallest seed of confidence she could muster.

“What’s it like?”

“Ehmm—like being a mere mortal, if I can even call myself that.” Both orbs swung away embarrassed.

“So you can’t—”

The maids pale face transformed into a red, flustered mess, with words that reflected humiliation. “Turn? I don’t even crave blood.”

There seemed to be more trauma to the story. After all, being a mixed blood was absolutely frowned upon. Lor could only imagine a life of torment and shame, a nightmarish upbringing Fay longed to escape from.

Having the Valmorin in mind, she realized Fay could be touched by the curse at any moment, turn into the very monster the kingdoms were fighting. Then again, Why would they have her here if they thought she’d turn? “I’m sorry if this is a sensitive subject for you.”

“It’s fine. Do you mind that I go and draw a bath for you? The coal gets cool pretty quick.”

“Sure.”

As the maid left, Lor’s heart tugged a little. Perhaps, I shouldn’t have brought the topic up.

After a few nibbles on a jelly bagel and sipping lavender tea, Lor bathed, transitioned from a head wrap to a smaller bandage, which hid the hairline gash, and dressed. Her crown sat atop refreshed curls tied up into a messy bun, hiding any evidence of a wound. What did the royals have in store today? Where’s the prince? Thinking of him caused her eyes to roll around, the power he had to invade the mind at random times. She needed a distraction, fast or she’d be juggling different emotions again, specifically rage. That came easy as Siren approached, meeting the gaze of her reflection. Lor lingered at the mirror waiting for compliments to pour in.

“Be careful today,” said Siren, on the contrary. Worry broadened her brown eyes that did not have their usual sparkling flare.

“What do you mean?” said Lor, eyebrows furrowed.

“The prince has a mistress. I thought she left…..but then I saw her in town this morning. She was at the Royal Boutique, I assume shopping for a dress for tonight. I highly advise you stay away from her.”

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“I already know about Ann,” said Lor as she primped and prepped the final touches of the elegant, messy bun.

“Oh!” Confusion spread across Siren’s brows.

Twirling around to observe the beautiful gown, Lor stopped to glare back toward the mirror.

“Why would she be buying a dress? What’s the occasion?”

“There will be a ceremony honoring the troops tonight. They leave tomorrow morning, for Agarta. You are expected to attend and she’ll be there.” Unbothered, the princess appeared once more, fixing her crown further forward, while coiling curls against both temples. A voice with the consistency of fear and seriousness broke Lor’s concentration, reeling her back. “I’m worried! She’s only coming to mark her territory.”

“What does that even mean? I am not trying to get in between their relationship. She needn’t mark anything!”

“You don’t know her! She will not take lightly to what happened yesterday, if she hasn’t already found out.”

Lor shifted around to grill Siren. “What are you talking about?” The only interaction she could remember from the day prior, Nel pissing her off.

“The prince rescued you after your fall.” Siren expressed a similar expression of bewilderment. “You didn’t know?”

“I was passed out. How could I? Why am I just finding out? Is that why his mother came to room so mad, because her son practiced a chivalrous deed? Must be surprising to someone like her.” Lor also concluded the letter played a part in the queen’s iciness.

Maybe she felt threatened by Naomi’s upcoming stay. Or perhaps she’s mad about the contents of the letter. What could father have been implying that Naomi was the solution?

Siren gulped with shock in her eyes, as if partaking in such conversation about the queen could be her death sentence. Not a word spilled out, revealing where the maid’s true loyalty rested.

In spite of that, a tone with a bite finally stung. “As far as Ann, I refuse to worry about some bitter woman. I have bigger things to think about, like the war and my father’s livelihood.” She shut her eyes and released a shaky sigh. “Everything is happening so fast.”

From the moment Leonebus mentioned joining families, to his selfish orders of sending her away to Ustoria, then the dreadful introduction to the royals, and the war itself, it all crumbled together into a huge whirlwind striking her hard into the darkest form of reality.

Siren loosely cuffed Lor’s shoulder. “I have no doubt your father, with the help of Ustoria, will conquer those beasts.” In spite of Ann, she admitted, “Your focus should be the wedding. Let the boys worry about the rest.”

“Right….the wedding.” Such dreadful conversation to bring up, The wedding. It played as a reminder of what little power she had, being commanded to marry a vampire. A nervy breath vibrated upward reaching lungs with an uppity heart beat. She felt tears burning the backs of her eyes since surely, this was the last thing she wanted to discuss. Like pages, she flipped through every thought, in search of a topic change. “Any news on Naomi?” she said tears intact.

“Who?”

“She is a friend who will be joining my court. Can you find out her whereabouts? I’m worried.”

“Yes. I’ll work on that now.”

Shortly after their discussion, a soldier named Gerald escorted her to the wardrobe chamber. The large room had an open closet filled with an array of unworn gowns. Each of them stretched across a metal rack like a breathtaking rainbow. Lor’s eyes glimmered with excitement.

“Are these all mine?” she said, veering at Gerald.

“Gifts from your future husband,” he said.

Between being rescued and now gifted with beautiful dresses by a vampire who had been deemed a monster, her ideas of him conflicted one another.

“I—uh—I’m not sure what to think of this.”

Not a second later, a theatrical gentleman approached, providing a pleasant greeting. He turned out to be the seamstress. With pep in his steps, he showcased three wedding dresses. Lor tried them on. After an hour of taping, measurements, and alterations, she left with a one in mind. That’s when she decided to search for the prince to finally thank him. For everything. Of all living beings, she did not expect him to be the one who saved her, let alone a vampire. There must be some good in him, some sort of care. Uuhg! Don’t be fooled by this. He’s still a vampire nonetheless. Regardless, a thank you was necessary, especially after giving him a hard time yesterday.

As she walked through the halls in tow of Gerald, she asked, “Where’s Prince Neltavio?”

“He’s in the yard doing his morning sparring,” he said.

“Can you take me to him?”

“I certainly can.”

After walking a straight path, they met the walkway which led outside. Deep in a private field, adjacent to the field of blood roses, Nel clashed swords with two soldiers. The seasoned fighters were no match for the prince. He swiveled and charged, disarming each opponent. The way he chuckled, proved he conquered each round with ease. Quickly, his legs lunged forward as he pretended to slit one of their throats, while spinning its sharp edge toward the other’s heart.

Lor smirked, impressed.

The long hour of physical activity seeped through his drenched, white button up. Sweat streaks glistened at his forehead and neck. When he removed his shirt to wipe his brows, Lor’s face grew flustered with heat. Another round had been wagered by one of the other fighters, but Nel’s eyes lit up as she approached.

“That’s it for today,” he said to both men, chest rising and falling, quickly finding the air he fought for. “Princess Loretta, what do I owe the honor?”

“I wanted to thank you for saving me….the dresses.”

After a subtle nod, he said, “You’re welcome.”