Aurelia kept glancing over her shoulder as she made her way back to her chambers. The old box in her arms felt heavier than it should, as though the weight of secrets long buried clung to its surface. The faded journal, the delicate music box with its chipped edges, the faint scent of her mother's perfume still trapped inside—it was too much. Too dangerous. She shut her chamber door and dropped the items onto her bed, her heart racing in her chest.
She knelt beside the bed and carefully slid them beneath the mattress, tucking them far out of sight. The journal's pages had told her things she wasn't ready to believe. Mentions of a vampire kingdom, a flower-shaped crystal of impossible power, and a promise made long ago. Her mother had known them. Had lived among them. It made no sense. Her mother, the quiet, gentle woman whose only legacy was the music box and the whispers the other queens spat behind cupped hands.
A knock sounded at her door. Aurelia stiffened. "Come in."
One of the castle maids peered in. "My lady, dinner is ready. The king asks for your presence."
Aurelia exhaled and nodded. "I'll be there shortly."
She smoothed her hair, dabbed her flushed cheeks, and forced on a practiced, detached smile—the one she wore for dinners like this.
The grand dining hall was already filled with noise. The long table shimmered with candlelight, silver dishes piled high with roasted meat and fruits glistening with honey. Her brothers sat in their usual spots, loud and careless. The king at the head, already halfway through a goblet of wine. And further down the table, the queens. The women who never let her forget she was the product of a favorite mistress and nothing more.
As Aurelia took her seat, she could feel their eyes on her.
"Well, look who finally graces us," Queen Calienne murmured, her voice a dagger wrapped in silk.
Aurelia said nothing. She reached for her goblet.
Another of the wives, slender and sharp-eyed, leaned in. "I saw you earlier, dear. Near the west wing. Strange place for a princess to be alone. Whatever were you doing there?"
The room quieted, the question hanging heavy in the air.
Aurelia set her goblet down. "I wanted some peace and quiet."
"Oh?" Calienne's lips curled. "Still chasing ghosts, are we? Poor thing. No mother to sit beside her at the feast tomorrow. It must be…lonely."
Soft chuckles spread around the table, except from her brothers and father, who seemed too distracted or indifferent to intervene.
Aurelia's throat tightened. She pushed her chair back. "Excuse me."
She left before anyone could stop her, the weight in her chest pressing harder with every step. Back in her room, she slammed the door and leaned against it, shutting out the world. The tears came quickly. She wasn't weak. She wasn't. But some wounds never closed.
A soft knock came not long after.
"My lady?" It was Mira.
"Go away," Aurelia croaked.
"My lady, please…let me come in."
Aurelia opened the door. Mira stepped in, her face full of worry. She pulled the princess into a hug without asking, and Aurelia let herself be held for a moment.
"They shouldn't speak to you like that," Mira whispered.
"It doesn't matter," Aurelia muttered. "I should be used to it."
Mira pulled back, brushing a thumb over Aurelia's damp cheek. "You're not alone, my lady. You never were."
Aurelia managed a weak smile.
A knock came again. This time firmer.
"I'll take it from here, Mira," a deep voice said.
Mira blinked and curtsied. "Yes, sir."
Lucien stepped into the room, his silver and black armor catching the light. Aurelia didn't even look at him at first.
"I'm fine," she said, wiping her eyes.
"I wasn't asking," Lucien replied, his voice soft but edged.
Aurelia sighed. "You should be at dinner."
"I prefer the stars," he said.
She almost smiled at that. He moved to the window, pushing it open. The night air rolled in, cool and calming.
"Come on," he said. "There's a spot on the north terrace where the sky feels close enough to touch."
"I don't feel like it," she muttered.
He didn't argue. Instead, he stepped closer and offered his hand. "It'll be a waste if you let them steal your night too."
After a long pause, she took it.
He led her through the quiet corridors, out to the north terrace. The night was alive with stars. She laughed, the sound unexpected even to her, when a cool breeze tangled her hair. Lucien stood beside her, silent as always, watching her.
"You're not like the others," she said at last, her gaze on the sky.
He didn't answer.
Later, after she'd gone to bed, Lucien lingered outside her door. Something gnawed at him. He could sense it. She was hiding something. He slipped inside. The room was quiet, moonlight spilling across the floor. His eyes went to the bed, to the edge of the mattress where the faintest corner of fabric stuck out. He moved silently, lifting the mattress and pulling out the journal and music box.
He opened the journal, flipping through pages. His blood ran cold.
"Aurelia…" he whispered.
The door creaked. He turned. She stood there, her face pale, eyes wide.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
He straightened, the journal still in his hand.
"Give it back," she said.
He didn't move.
"Lucien, I swear—"
"I didn't want it to be you," he blurted, his voice rough.
Aurelia froze. "What…what are you talking about?"
He exhaled, setting the journal down. "The flower. The crystal. It belongs to my people. It's the only thing keeping my mother alive. I was sent here to find it."
Aurelia's heart pounded.
"I wasn't supposed to care. About you," he added quietly.
She stared at him. "And now?"
He didn't answer.
The silence between them was thick with things neither of them dared say.