Trivask sighs as she hears the soft whispers of the living veins rustling above her. She hates them with a passion, but only because they wake her up at the same time every single day of the week. She frowns, wondering how Lord Alijah can possibly sleep through the sound of their leaves rubbing against the posts of the bed.

Stifling her groan, she rises from the bed, angry that she has to leave the heavenly mattress and silk sheets behind. She yawns as she stretches her arms and slips her feet into her house slippers. She doesn’t want the bottom of her feet anywhere near the terribly icy floor.

She has half a mind to whine and bounce back onto the bed, but the rustling of the thirsty vines forces her into action. She reaches into the cabinet of her bedside table, pulling out a small watering tin. Walking to the end of the bed, Trivask finds the tail of the plant then sticks it into the tin.

She waits patiently for the vine to drink its fill of water, and eventually the rustling stops. Sweet relief fills her. There’s something about that sound that just drives her mad.

After replacing the tin, she enters the washroom and begins her morning routine. Twisting the knob above the counter basin, she waits for the water to fill, then she grabs a match from the bottom cabinet and lights the fire beneath the basin. It shouldn’t take more than five minutes for the water to warm to a desirable temperature.

To pass time, she picks up her brush and begins to smooth her short mahogany waves. Trivask parts her hair down the middle and smooths the part. Reaching for the ornate glass bottle that sits to her right, she pulls off the stopper and slides the smooth glass stick along the part, relishing the cool and fresh feeling of her hair perfume.

Next, she reaches into the tray on her left and retrieves a few black pins. After pinning her hair away from her face, she dips a pinkie into the water to test the temperature. It’s perfect. She extinguishes the fire before dipping a face cloth into the water and ringing it.

Trivask walks back to the bed and pulls the silk sheets down to reveal her Lord’s face. She rolls him so that he rests on his back, then gently lays the steaming cloth across his eyes.

The mornings after his rituals, terrible aches vibrate through his head, right behind his eyes. Trivask was told that the steam from a warmed rag helps to alleviate the pain. A small groan leaves Lord Alijah’s lips as the cloth settles. “Morning, my Lord,” Trivask greets, her voice low and a bit thicker than usual.

One of the first things Alijah had ever told her was that her voice sounds like a slow summer morning on a farm. He said it sounds like the leisurely rush of a river when she wakes up in the morning.

His hand finds hers. He pulls the back of it to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to it. “Good morning,” He responds. A soft smile finds a home on her face as she rises to continue with her morning routine.

Entering the wash room, Trivask washes her face and applies her normal serum before returning to the chamber. She then ruffles through their gargantuan wardrobe, pulling out the clothes that the pair would wear for the first half of the day.

She sticks to Alijah’s usual black tunic and green velvet vest, pairing it with a pair of soft trousers that clip in at the ankle and his favorite brown boots. After pulling her own clothes out of the wardrobe, she turns to the vanity to grab her facial chains and Alijah’s black loop earrings.

Something that she was fascinated to learn was that higher males in the Khunese Empire wear earrings to signify their royal status and their relationship status. He hails from the family that is third in line for the throne, so he wears three hoops on his left ear. And because he is widowed, yet no longer mourning, he wears one hoop in his first hole and another in his fourth on his right ear.

Trivask dresses herself in her usual black breeches and a soft purple velvet tunic before fastening her black facial chains into place. After sliding on her favorite silk slippers, she walks back to the bed. “It’s time to wake up, my Lord. Get dressed. I’ll be back in ten minutes with your breakfast.” She takes the cloth from his eyes to drop off in the laundresses’ office on the way to the kitchens.

The Lord lets out a groan as she leaves, sliding the door closed silently behind her.

One thing that Trivask can admit wholeheartedly, is that she loves the Maelegori Manor. She loves the stone beneath her feet that gets icy when the sun sets. She adores the shape of the walls, made from stone and shimmering crystals that light up when the night’s lamps are lit. Her heart approves of the elegant curves of the sconces that hold torches and the cages that house the oil lamps.

The arches and elegantly carved wooden doors delight her eyes, and if anyone ever asked her about the gardens, her heart very well might burst. This is among one of the most beautiful worlds that she has ever been to, and one that she wishes to stay in for quite a while.

Trivask turns at the end of the hall and travels down the grand curving stairs, her hand sliding along the recently polished banister. A delightful smell greats her nose just as she reaches the first floor.

She smiles, causing one of her elongated canines to flash. There’s something about the smell of bustling servants that makes her stomach growl. The blood of a hardworking and short lived servant is often bitter, like alcohol. Combine that with their fear, and it’s enough to make Trivask see in pairs.

Continuing to the Lord’s personal kitchens, she drops the face cloth off along the way. Trivask is happy to see that his tea has already been brewed, and a platter of breakfast prepared and covered. She lifts the top and is greeted with buttery bread, half of a grapefruit, and fluffy eggs. She scrunches her nose at the smell of the eggs.

She isn’t a fan of them.

Covering the food once again, she grabs the tray and takes it back to Alijah.

He’s finished dressing when she slides the door open. “I have a meeting with Jona today. I’d like for you to attend. There’s something that I need from you.” She perks up. Whatever it is, she hopes it’s going to be fun.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Alijah’s lip quirk up, and knows that it certainly will be.

“Great. Now, before you leave, I’m going to need you to add Regon Trivals to the register and get him set up with a room, a temporary horse, and a schedule. He should begin training tomorrow morning. I also need you to have him sent him to me at some point today. Perhaps during lunch.” Jona dips his head, his shaggy curls dropping with the motion.

Trivask likes Jona. He’s quiet, obedient, yet he is also deadly. Those are three of her favorite qualities in a man. And if Alijah wasn’t such a possessive Lord, she might have attempted to lure the training adviser into their shared bed. She believes there is much fun to be had with him.

The woman winks when their eyes meet, reveling in the shifting of his stance and the flickering of his eyes. “That is all. Trivask will introduce you to Regon tomorrow.” Jona turns and leaves without speaking a word. She fights to contain her shudder.

Oh, the things she would give up just to have one night alone with the silent Faerie.

She’s positive she could draw some sound from him.

“Do you remember Lord Helon?” Trivask’s brows furrow as she thinks back. Names rarely stick when she sees and meets so many people. She shakes her head. “You met him when we attended his marriage rites ceremony last winter.” She starts to think again, and it finally clicks.

“He married the brothel whore, did he not?” An abrupt laugh falls from his mouth as he pauses looking through the papers covering his desk.

“I often forget that you don’t abide by the same standard of manners that we all do. But yes, he mated with the… brothel whore. I need you to ensure that he will be attending our formal next week. I am owed something, and I have an inkling that he will attempt to back out of our agreement.”

Trivask leans on the desk. “By ensure, you mean-”

“Do whatever needs to be done.” She smiles as she reaches over the sculpted wood to place a kiss on his cheek. The Lord grins in response and waves her off. “Off you go.” She laughs, happy to have something new to do today.

The now elated woman makes sure to stop by their room so that she might grab her cloak and strap on her thigh sheath. Then she’s on her way to the stables. When she walks through the high wooden arches, chins dip and eyes divert. No one wants to be the one to catch her gaze.

Trivask’s lips pucker and her own eyes roll. While it is convenient to have people fear her, it can also be fairly irritating on her side, especially when she wants to share her excitement. She finds her favorite horse and opens the door to its stall, a faint huff falling from her lips.

The horse stares back at her with its incredibly long eyelashes fanning its eyes. Horses are such strange creatures. Trivask pokes the space between its nostrils just as a voice greets her. “Good morning, Loinel. ” The woman turns slowly, a smile now creeping up her lips.

Her chin dips in a greeting. “Jona. Where are you off to?” She just wants to hear his voice again. While Lord Alijah’s voice offers a certain air of authority, Jona’s radiates pure power. It’s deep and soft yet strong. It’s all of the things that Trivask imagines him to be.

He cannot hide the smile in his eyes. “Lord Maelegori has tasked me with accompanying you.” What he leaves unsaid, is that Lord Alijah does not trust her to leave the good Lord Helon whole. She should have known that he would send someone to monitor her.

Her eyes roll.

She had gotten her hopes up for naught. Yet her smile finds her again, her canine catching on her lip. “I suppose I should not be surprised, my Lord has always had little faith in my self-restraint. Lets go, I have something I want to do before the moon rises again.” The adviser nods and helps lead her horse out of its stable.

Then he does something that confuses her.

Jona settles himself on her horse then offers her his hand. “Pardon?” Her brows raise as she looks from his hand back to him and her horse several times. “I believe you’ve saddled up on the wrong animal, Jona.”

“You think I haven’t seen what you do when the sun sets? You aren’t going to want to have to take care of the horse along the way. So hop up, and I will leave you wherever it is that you wish to stay on the way back.”

He’s been watching her.

Jona has always piqued her interests. He’s the embodiment of tall, dark, and handsome. His silver hair and gray eyes contrast with his brown skin in an eye pleasing way, and the way he always attempts to hide his pointed ears beneath the mass of loose curls has always made her curious about his story.

But she has continuously held herself back from stealing from him. Her restraint is slowly waning. Trivask sucks on her teeth before accepting his hand. She settles on her horse, her arms loosely wrapped around the man sitting stiffly in front of her.

If he doesn’t loosen up, this ride is going to be a pain for him.

The Helon estate would be considered a shack if compared to the Maelegori Manor. The grounds are smaller, and less meticulously kept. The house itself is made from wood . Which is absolutely ridiculous. A storm would shake the foundations; could cave in the roof.

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Who would decide that such a downgrade was appropriate?

Trivask dismounts before her horse even stops, falling into a roll once she makes contact with the ground. Not a single servant waits for them outside, they must not be expecting visitors.

Or they are…

She walks up the steps and strides through the front door, without waiting for her travel companion. “Lord Helon!” She calls. “It’s not polite to leave your guests waiting and wandering around your home!” Her voice echoes throughout the empty hall, receiving no response.

Her head tilts up and her eyes close as she sniffs the air. A feral smile lights up her face, the canines on both sides of her mouth exposing themselves. Her gums bleed as they lengthen. “Are you hiding from me, Lord Helon?” She calls into the air, her body tingling at the thought of a hunt.

Just as she’s preparing to give chase, a strong and sweet smell overtakes her. Moments later, the door opens behind her, and the Lady of the house prances through, a dashing young man on her arm.

She stops in her tracks, causing the man to face Trivask. She takes another sniff, and her nose tingles. “Oh!” The Lady’s eyes travel along the length of Trivask’s body, her eyes widening when she realizes who stands before her. “I think I’ve heard of you before. My, you’re Lord Maelegori’s Loinel, aren’t you. What brings you here?” The Lady’s hand tightens on her companion’s arm as Trivask’s eyes meet hers.

Trivask opens her mouth to speak, but Jona is quick to join them, effectively cutting her off. “Apologies for the interruptions, Lady Helon. We are here on behalf of Lord Maelegori. Where can we find the Lord of the house?”

The Lady’s eyes jump between the intruding pair, but Trivask has already forgotten her, in favor of the man standing next to her. He is beautiful.

His auburn hair is shaggy and sits playfully on his head. His long lashes fan his delicate blue eyes, casting shadows along his high cheekbones. His ears bear no rings and no point at the tips.

There is something unnatural about his beauty, something wrong.

But that is not what has captured her attention. His scent is familiar. It reminds her of something long since forgotten, and it’s tickling at the back of her head and nudging around in her stomach.

She snaps out of her daze when she feels Jona touch her elbow. “Come. Lord Helon is waiting in his office.” Finally taking her eyes off of the man that had not been introduced, she allows Jona to lead her. When they are far enough from the other pair, he asks her, “What did you sense?”

She doesn’t bother questioning how he knows that she felt something off. “That man… He does not belong here.” They continue down the hall, the sound of Jona’s footsteps bouncing off of the walls. Her mind begins to wander. If he does not belong in this world, then just where does he hail from?

They approach a tall pair of double doors, and Trivask immediately starts to bang on it. “Open up Lord Helon, I can smell you hiding in there.” She hears the sound of a jolted sigh.

Moments later, the door’s lock clicks, and the large slabs of wood begin to move inward. Trivask takes the lead, as the pair enter the room.

Lord Helon stands at the door, seemingly not able to move from his spot. No matter, Trivask makes herself busy examining his desk. He doesn’t have any trinkets or souvenirs, which is strange.

Most with the status of a Lord visit all kinds of lands. Why wouldn’t one want to document that by bringing home proof of the explorations? She looks up momentarily, and sees that Jona and the good Lord are watching her. She keeps what she wishes to say to herself, for now.

“Please sit, Lord Helon. This won’t take long, but I don’t wish for you to be uncomfortable.” She smiles, motioning to the chair that she is currently standing behind. The Lord swallows, his adam’s apple jostling the tie keeping the collar of his top closed. He clears his throat, and goes to close the doors. Trivask holds her hand out. “That won’t be necessary.”

The Lord’s eyes shift from the door to her uneasily, but he leaves it and makes his way to her. She moves from her place behind the chair, allowing him some reprieve, and settles onto the corner of his desk.

“We are here on behalf of our Lord. He only asks that we insure your intentions of attending his formal. It’s a mere four days away, and you have yet to announce your attendance.” She places her hands delicately on her lap and crosses her legs at the ankle.

“You are planning to attend, are you not?” The man nods.

“Of course. Everyone knows that when you receive an invitation from Lord Maelegori, you don’t say no.” Her brow raises as she examines the man nearly trembling in front of her. He smells of fear and… lies.

She snarls, standing.

But just as she’s about to do something she knows she shouldn’t, the sound of light footsteps begins to approach, and her snarl slips away. She sits in her chair, surprising the men. “Yes, everyone knows that you don’t deny Lord Alijah.”

Realization lights up their faces when a girlish, “Daddy!” is sung in the halls. The Lord attempts to stand, but the look on Trivask’s face forces him back into his seat.

A shadow makes its way between the frame of the opened door.

As soon as the girl’s little feet cross the threshold, Trivask is standing before her, smiling. The little girl stumbles back a step, and Trivask catches her arm before she can trip over the skirts of her too long dress. “Hello,” She greets the child, her fangs flashing.

The girl looks to where her father sweats, and he nods to her. She waves meekly. “Hi.”

“Your father said that you like to dance, is that true?” He has said no such thing, but looking at the style of dress that the girl wears, and her red cheeks, Trivask can guess what she has been doing.

The child’s head nods enthusiastically, her pretty blonde curls bouncing in response. No one else speaks as Trivask asks, “How would you like to take a trip to a beautiful manor. It is home to one of the largest ballrooms in the country and staffs all manner of dance instructors.” The child’s eyes light up as she begins to bounce from one foot to the other.

“Daddy! Daddy, can I go! Please!” The girl looks to her father, her button nose crinkling and her hands fisting in delight.

Lord Helon rises, the refusal clear as day on his face. Trivask places a hand on the girl’s shoulder. Her nails morphing into talons as she fingers the lace at her collar. Her threat is clear. “We could have a lovely little dress tailored just for you. You could wear it to the formal we’re hosting. I could even show you new ways to pin your hair, so that it moves with you during your dances.”

Trivask can tell from the expression that takes up residence on the little girl’s face, that her mother doesn’t often spend time with her. The prospect of learning something new from a woman causes the girl’s foot to stomp and her arms to cross.

“I want to go Daddy! I never ask you for anything!”

“Come now, Lord Helon. You can pick her up after you visit the manor.” Trivask’s head tilts, her smile turning into something feral. She twists a finger into one of the child’s curls.

She senses the moment that he gives in. Lord Helon walks up, his face hard as he crouches in front of the girl. “Alright, sweet girl. I will come and get you in four days, okay?” Her pout leaves her as she rushes to wrap her small arms around her father. "Stay safe, my lily." It almost seems as if the Lord is holding back tears. How sweet.

“So it is settled. The young Helon will come with us.” Trivask pats the girl on her back, breaking the sweet family moment up. “Go with Jona, I have a few words to exchange with your father.”

The adviser, who had been silent for the entire exchange, stands, holding out a hand for the child. Her cheeks go even redder at the sight of him. “You’re a Faerie!” She states shyly.

Jona’s lips quirk up just the tiniest bit at the corner as he walks the child out of the room. She waits until the pair have traveled far enough away. “You will attend the formal and you will be prompt. Bring whatever it is that Lord Alijah requires, or I will slit your child’s throat without a second thought.”

She leaves before he can say anything to her.

“Here,” Trivask demands. Jona stops the horse, allowing her to slide off.

“Where are you going Miss?” The golden child peeks from around Jonas, her little head sliding through the opening between his arm and his body, to stare at her.

“I’m going for a walk. Jona will take care of you whilst I’m gone.” She pats the back of the horse, and they start to trot off, the child’s head bouncing with the movement of the animal.

Trivask turns to the beginnings of the Sleeping Forest, an excited shiver running through her. She begins to walk forward. Even though she had eaten the night before, her hunger had returned to her after her visit to the Helon estate.

Her mind wanders back.

It was the man that hung off of Lady Helon’s arm. He smelled of darkness, of home. Trivask chucks her slippers off of her feet, never stopping.

The man smelled of something smoky and tangy. She pulls her tunic over her head, tossing it behind her. He smelled of ash and blood. This time, she does pause to pull her breeches off.

Only once she stands fully exposed does she allow herself to shift. It starts at her back. Fire travels up the course of her spine, forcing her to her knees. Her hands dig into the earth as her knuckles break and rearrange.

Hair prickles under her skin, until tuffs of sleek black fur finally push their way through the top layer of her flesh. She holds in her grunt as her jaw snaps out of place and her canines push through her gums.

This transformation happens in the span of three seconds under a flash of black smoke, but it feels like an eternity to her.

When Trivask stands, she is no longer a woman.

The creature shakes itself, then sniffs the air as the smoke clears. Something rustles near, causing the creature’s ears to perk up. A low growl rumbles within the depths of its chest as it sets off in a prowl on its hunt.

When Trivask crosses through the grand arch entryway that leads into the manor’s foyer, she knows that something it wrong. The halls, which should be cleared at this time, are crowded with servants and guests, all of whom emanate nervous energy.

The woman latches onto the first person she sees. “Where is Lord Alijah?” She questions, and the nervous kitchen maid points a shaky arm towards the doors at the end of the hall. Trivask’s brows furrow.

That room is Lord Alijah’s council room. Those doors remained locked for over three-hundred days of the year, and as far as Trivask knows, today is not a day in which the council was to meet. She looks at the maid again, noticing her tear stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

Without a second thought, she lets the woman go and strides towards the enormous steel doors. She doesn’t knock before forcing them open. The Lord stops whatever he was saying once he notices the shifting of the doors.

She waits until they close behind her to start questioning the meaning of this meeting. “What in the name of the Gods is going on? There are weeping women laid all around the foyer.” Her hands go to her hips as her eyes travel over the five men and singular woman employed by the land’s Lord.

Alijah pinches the bridge of his nose. “We’ve received a message from King and Queen Toanc.” This surprises her. The rulers of Khunese rarely find it necessary to communicate with the ruling Lords and Ladys.

“Well, what did they say?” The faces of the council all grow somber.

“Prince Tilion has returned home.” This is great news. The King and Queen had named Prince Tilion as the acting diplomat of Khunese until his coronation. From what Trivask has heard, he’s a great speaker and decisive decision maker. Most say he will be a kind and just king.

“Why is this a problem?” She asks, still not understanding the long faces.

The Lord braces himself on a desk, his eyes meeting hers. “Because he returned in pieces, mailed in an ornate iron box, sealed with daemon blood.”