Exactly one minute past ten o’clock, the door opened.

"We are ready for you!" Rebekka sounded calm.

Caroline lethargically opened her eyes and stood up. She tried to smooth the overall a little with an awkward movement with her still bound hands. It had one advantage, after all, that her hands were tied: she didn't have to think about what to do with them.

There it is, she thought to herself. Her sense of sarcasm showed again. Well, come on then, let the show begin.

Damien rose as well and stepped to her left. With Rebekka on the other side, she crossed the hall in front of the throne room. There was no one to be seen and the impressively filigree carved wing door to the throne room was closed. Damien knocked on it once and both sides opened inwards synchronously.

Someone has a sense for grand effects. She suppressed a bitter grin.

A storm of impressions rained down on Caroline and she tried to process and categorise everything that could possibly help her get through the next few hours.

The throne room was enormous. At least one hundred and fifty feet long, at least sixty wide and a pure contrast in itself. The stone foundations of the castle seemed to be centuries old and had withstood quite a bit. Whether through weather or force, in places the walls had crumbled or broken. Half of the throne room seemed to have been destroyed some time ago, for only the left half still consisted of the massive grey stone chunks.

The destroyed side had been rebuilt, but anything but true to the original. In industrial style, steel beams ran vertically upwards and finally along the high light grey ceiling. They disappeared into the plaster and flashed out again elsewhere. Like stitches trying to force a mortal wound to close. Along the entire length of the right wall, however, floor-to-ceiling windows stretched between the beams. It must have been an immense effort to transport and install these high panes. The reward was a stunning view of the city, the harbour.

The outrageously large crystal chandelier in the centre and the twelve elegant columns supporting the ceiling on either side added a third seemingly mismatching component to the picture. If you looked at each style of this combination individually, there was incredible chaos. Taken as a whole, however, they blended together to form a terribly beautiful balance of light and dark, rough and smooth, brute and elegant.

The climax was at the end of the hall. The destroyed wall there had also been repaired. The break ran from the middle of the ceiling to just before floor level on the right-hand side. Instead of straightening it first, the glass had been cast directly into the rock. The rough edges seamlessly grasped the filigree metal tendrils and the thin layers of glass in between. It was stained glass and, together with the sun and the train of clouds, was responsible for the beautiful play of colour that danced at their feet.

The room contained no furniture, except for exactly thirty-one chairs arranged in an oval at the end of the room. One end of the oval was open and facing the door. At the other end, directly in front of the stained glass windows, was the chair that had given the hall its name. She would never have guessed that it was a throne. It was too plain and too similar to the other wooden chairs. The only thing that made it stand out was its golden shimmer.

Sitting on the throne was a slender man. She couldn't estimate exactly, but probably six feet tall. His jet-black hair fell smoothly to his shoulders. A thin golden hoop shimmered in it. His face was one of the most beautiful she had ever seen. Fine features, dark-rimmed eyes, high cheekbones. At a distance, she guessed his burgundy jacket was made out of leather. The black trousers seemed to belong to the guard's uniforms. He followed her steps with his dark eyes, otherwise remained sitting motionless.

To each of his right and left sat the members of parliament and there were the looks she had feared. In particular, the side to her left was peppered with vampires who looked at her as if she were the devil himself.

Those faces!

It was hard to believe that she was dealing with creatures, some of them centuries old, when they all looked like they were in their late twenties to early forties. A fact she could never forget or misjudge! The elders in particular, as the name implied, had been walking this world longer than she could imagine.

Unlike the humans of the island, the vampires were allowed to dress in bright colours and many did so with enthusiasm. Each clan preferred certain combinations.

Clans, Caroline had enquired yesterday, were groups of vampires that had existed before they banded together for protection two and a half centuries ago. The colours were derived from family crests or other heirlooms and became the new distinguishing feature. Within the clans, and occasionally outside them, there were the so-called families. The name belied what it was supposed to describe. Every vampire had the possibility to take in humans as wards.

Humans usually lived in simple circumstances in separate areas of the city, the villages or on the farms in between. They had their tasks, which ensured a basic supply. Depending on the importance of the tasks, successes or extraordinary achievements, they were granted further privileges. Apart from regular blood donations, they were basically free to do whatever they wanted on the island.

An exceptional status was given to all those who became wards of a vampire. The background was described in the brochure as creating a win-win situation for both vampire and human. The vampire takes responsibility for the humans. He, she or them takes care of the person and lets them share in the prosperity. This meant, among other things, nicer clothes, better food and access to entertainment.

On the other hand, the ward was obliged to sign himself over life and limb to the vampire. From there on, the human had to do what was ordered. The owner was also responsible for carrying out punishments, with a few exceptions such as killing or mutilation.

To Caroline, this seemed like a rather one-sided arrangement. Damien, however, had assured her that most vampires did not take advantage of their rights, but took very good care of their humans. Often they even built up a relationship of trust with each other.

But basically they are like your pets?, Caroline had asked provocatively. She wondered what person in their right mind would enter into such a relationship.

Sexual abuse immediately came to Caroline's mind when the subject of absolute power of disposal was mentioned, along with drinking blood. The way Jonathan had treated Isy during the abduction had been disgusting and she didn't want to imagine what would have been done to her had she become his ward. He was certainly not the only vampire with such ambitions. She had held back with questions and comments on the subject, however it didn't help her cause in the least to start a fight.

Rebekka and Damien had no wards, but Daniel spoke freely about his experiences. Hecould have had up to five wards as an officer of the Guard, but he joked that one was work enough. One was responsible for accommodation, food, clothing, education and everything that goes with it. Besides, this bond lasted a lifetime. Vampires could not repudiate their wards in old age this way. At least that was the official reasoning behind this particular rule. In reality, it probably amounted to active euthanasia, Caroline had concluded only in her mind. She had suppressed her anger and left it at that.

Caroline noticed that one of the chairs in the oval had been left empty and swallowed hard. Jonathans place.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

When they had almost crossed the room, she consciously noticed the whispering for the first time. It had swelled to a volume that could no longer be ignored. No wonder, except for a narrow path through the hall and the inside of the oval, the room was well filled.

Many of the people who had been standing near the door had been dressed in black. As they progressed, the crowd became more colourful. She dared to take a few closer looks and was surprised at how diverse as a community it was. Not only in terms of culture, skin colour and the wildest styles of dress, but also gender. She saw at least four people she couldn't have told offhand if they were men or women. Another person she would have clearly classified as a man wore a long flowing dress and breasts that looked damn real. After a few centuries, one had presumably come into one's own, or at least was not afraid to experiment. The sight almost filled her with sadness. Under other circumstances, she might actually have liked it here.

There was no one behind the king. To the side, however, other people crowded around the chairs. A man leaning casually against a pillar caught her eye. Not only because the crowd around him hardly seemed to exist or because he was very tall. He certainly measured close to six and a half feet and was wiry slim. It was his intense gaze that caught her attention. The alert blue-grey eyes wandered intently from her to Damien and back. When Caroline looked to Damien, he returned the man's gaze straight and nodded slightly. They were probably friends or colleagues. The stranger was also wearing the black uniform of the guard.

They had reached the centre of the oval by now and Damien held her by the arm as she distractedly tried to walk on. Okay, time to concentrate. She knew what was expected, and yet it took all her willpower to drop to her knees.

As Damien and Rebekka walked on and she was left behind, she felt more alone and at the mercy than she had ever felt in her life.

The king rose. "Let us begin!"

The whisper died away and Caroline could have heard a pin drop. She knew she was not allowed to look up until spoken to.

"Caroline, do you know why you are here?" he asked, sitting down again. His voice was soft and lighter than she had expected, even though he struck a stern tone.

Okay, no foreplay then, she thought to herself and almost smiled.

When she looked up, she was met with a serious look and a request in it not to wait too long with her answer. Had he been applying eyeliner? The black rim around his eyes seemed to be caused by more than just the eyelashes.

She glanced quickly to the side, hoping to catch sight of Damien and Rebekka. Faces she could hold on to. Rebekka stood only a few feet from the king. Next to them were two strange vampires and right next to the tall stranger, who was still leaning relaxed against the pillar, she spotted Damien. The two men exchanged a few words, then her eyes met his. He drew his eyebrows together tensely and pointed his head slightly in the direction of his leader.

"I am accused of deliberately killing a member of the parliament, Your Highness," she replied as she turned forward again. Her voice sounded firm but not challenging.

"And how do you confess?"

At the impatient tone, Caroline wondered why he had not prompted her to answer sooner. She took a few seconds to answer now too. Better to speak deliberately than quickly. Don't get into a rush. That only leads to panic and that leads to ... terrible things.

"Not guilty."

The murmur sounded again, louder this time and shouts could be heard, which she deliberately blocked out. She concentrated on the king. He glanced briefly at the crowd to her right, unfolded his arms and lowered them onto the armrests of the throne.

"Are you saying that you are not responsible for his death?"

"Yes." She ignored the voices that rose again "My actions set in motion the things that led to his death. However, I cannot possibly be held responsible for it."

She wondered if the last part could be understood over the babble of voices.

"Is that so?", It was more of a statement than a question. "Stand up!"

Caroline obeyed cautiously. She was glad that her slightly trembling legs went along with the change without problems. She noticed that the king's gaze wandered back into the crowd. Towards Damien to be precise.

As she tilted her head slightly, she noticed the tall man next to Damien nodding curtly. She looked back at the king, who crossed his arms again. Her thoughts lingered on the constellation she had just observed.

"Explain to me why!"

Something was wrong here. His tone was demanding, though not as confident and composed as she would have expected. From all she had heard and read about the leader of the vampires, he would have to be a monument to grandeur.

The crown also irritated her. The Society was minimalist in every way as far as badges or trophies were concerned. Why would their leader, of all people, insist on such a hackneyed one? And more seriously, would Damien chat with a colleague when his king was about to hold an important hearing?

The deep respect that Damien, Rebekka and Daniel had for their king came to her mind. It was not respect for the position, but for the man. Caroline was good at reading people. Tthe one on the throne did not seem like a leader to her.

Suddenly it clicked and something snapped in her brain. The realisation of what was going on hit her, followed by the fearful consideration of what she should do. Whether she wanted to do anything at all.

She decided to take another test.

"I will. May I ask a counter question first, Your Majesty. There is something I don’t understand."

He looked at her a little perplexed. "That is not conventional." He looked to his left again. "But go ahead."

Now she was almost sure!

"The term king has the same meaning here as it used to have all over the world, when it wasn't primarily about representative functions, didn't it?" She earned his questioning look and continued. "I mean, in the sense that he is head of the government, supreme judge and legislator."

"That's a bit vague and leaves out the role of parliament, but fundamentally correct." He stopped turning to his left and looked at her eagerly. Had she been wrong after all?

"That means that the king will have a large say in my future fate?"

"Yes." He leaned forward and his eyes darted back towards Damien for a split second. "That was more than a question. Where are you going with this?"

The murmur had died down and she felt the tension in the oppressive silence.

"To a plea." She gathered all her courage and pushed away the thought of what it would mean for her future if she were wrong. She had more to gain than to lose.

"I would ask to spend the rest of the trial speaking directly to the man who will be judging me." She turned and looked the tall vampire beside Damien straight in the eye. Just for a moment that seemed like eternities, his face remained expressionless and worry began to rise in her.

Oh my God, I was wrong!

Caroline heard a slight sigh from the throne and the hint of a smile appeared on the lips of the vampire she assumed was the actual king. He pushed himself off the pillar and walked towards the throne.

Damien stared at her in disbelief with widened eyes and Rebekka opened and closed her mouth a few times, like a fish out of water.

"How did you know?" The tall vampire's voice was impressive. Soft, harmonious, deep and at the same time so clear and penetrating that a shiver ran down her spine. He gestured for his representative to take a place in the crowd. Not without smiling at him and patting his shoulder encouragingly. "Thank you Joël."

When he turned to her his posture was relaxed and he carefully folded back the sleeves of his black shirt. He had thrown the jacket over an armrest of the throne.

"Especially the glances," she murmured. I wondered if it needed further explanation. "Besides, it's a bit conspicuous when so much respectful distance is maintained in a crowded room."

"That Joël looked at me and the distance the others kept? Was that all?" He looked taken aback. As if he couldn't believe she had made such a bold advance on those two clues.

"I don't want to ..." She broke off and looked after Joël as he took his place beside Damien. The eyeliner really did look great on him! The king seemed to understand what was bothering her.

"Speak freely, please. You can't get anyone into trouble."

"I have ..." She hesitated for a moment. "I have read how the island was founded and how you came to be king. I haven't learned much beyond that" she glanced briefly at Damien and Rebekka "but the attitude of your people towards you, suggests a certain personality."

Phew, I couldn't have put it more awkwardly.

"In short, he didn't quite fit that image." She looked apologetically at Joël, who was clearly more comfortable in his current role.

"It's okay, this thing doesn't suit me anyway." He grinned and pointed to a decorative bust beside the column to which he had placed the gold ring. He turned to his leader. "Sorry Thomas, I would have liked to have your back."

The king nodded with a smile and then looked at Caroline again. Appraisingly.

Suddenly a guilty conscience overcame her "I'm sorry I blew the arrangement. I just wanted to ..."

"Yes?" He raised an eyebrow when she didn't continue.

Caroline ran her bound hands over her face and grimaced in agony.

"I'm under the impression that my chances aren't particularly good with this trial and I wanted to make sure I was at least aligning myself with the right counterpart." She had been speeding up, noticing how the commotion in the hall was growing again.

"Understandable." He didn't seem angry. "We use the arrangement occasionally because it's easier for me as an audience member to focus on what's important."

It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if the game had ever been seen through before. She stifled it.

"All right, Caroline.” He got serious. “Let's have a chat."