After breakfast, everyone went their separate ways.
Vivienne made her way down the long corridor, steps slow, fingers trailing along the cold stone wall.
"Lady Vivienne," Lucian called from behind.
She froze.
His footsteps were soft but purposeful as he approached. She didn't turn. She just stood there.
"You look breathtaking this morning," he murmured, leaning in close. His breath whispered along her neck as he inhaled her scent.
Vivienne stiffened. Her heart stuttered. She tried to keep still—composed—but she was doing a poor job of hiding the effect he had on her.
She raised her chin and spoke, steady but bold, "Only today?"
She turned slightly, casting a glance over her shoulder to the spot where his lips had nearly brushed her skin.
Lucian's brow lifted in amused surprise. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
He reached out gently, turning her to face him. Then, with one finger beneath her chin, he tilted her face upward.
"Every day, love. Every single day."
The sound of his voice, low and velvet-smooth, echoed in her ears. It hypnotized her.
Vivienne gazed into his eyes, drawn in, forgetting for a moment where she was—who she was.
Then—
"Err…" She cleared her throat sharply, breaking the trance. "I'll be in my room, Your Highness."
She bowed quickly and turned, almost fleeing down the corridor.
Lucian's expression sobered as he watched her go.
—
Back in Evendale…
Baron Edevan stood at the head of the council chamber. Around him sat a handful of the village's remaining noblemen—grim, exhausted, and angry.
The air was thick with dread.
"This is no longer bearable," Oswald growled. "More people die every day. It's high time we fight this monster."
"Yes!" Randrid agreed, slamming his fist down. "We'll have to resort to the old ways. Strike where they're weak."
Edevan sighed heavily, his face drawn. "Someone turned Denee. On purpose. Wasn't she buried?"
"She must have been dug up," Ambrose replied, voice tight. "Likely by the same one who turned her. Maybe killed her first—just to announce their presence."
"Which means Denee wasn't the only one," Edevan said quietly. "We may have more to deal with."
"The vampires are back," Ambrose muttered through clenched teeth.
A heavy silence fell over the room.
Then—creaaak.
The old door at the far end of the chamber groaned open.
The men turned to look.
Dust curled through the air like smoke as it revealed a hidden, forgotten chamber.
Inside: walls lined with cobwebs and shadows, the glint of silver and steel peeking through the dark.
It was a room of weapons—ancient, dangerous tools designed for one purpose only.
To kill vampires.
The men stood at the doorway, faces unreadable as they took in the silent room of their ancestors.
Time to awaken the old war.