~LENORA'S POV
I stood before the mirror as candlelight brushed over my skin, and for a moment I did not recognize the girl staring back at me. The black gown clung to my body in ways that felt unfamiliar, lace winding along my arms and chest like something cold and alive.
The corset pulled my waist tight, forcing my posture straight, shaping me into something elegant, into something that did not feel like me.
My hair had been gathered into a low bun that sat heavy at the nape of my neck. It felt wrong, too neat, and was definitely not my style to be dressed like a princess of the 18th century.
The black mask resting against my face sealed the feeling. Tonight I was not Lenora the way I understood myself. I was something arranged, something placed where it suited others.
A piece.
The sister maids worked in silence, their hands adjusting fabric and smoothing lace with careful attention. Their movements were steady and practiced, as though this was not a girl being dressed but a task being completed.
When they stood on either side of me, I felt less like a person and more like an offering.
I met my reflection again and searched for something familiar. It was gone. The girl who worried about deadlines and grades and small ordinary fears had been buried under silk and structure. The face looking back at me held tension in its jaw and restraint in its eyes, with calm pressing into place over weeks of quiet panic.
I missed being able to move freely. I missed wandering without permission. The image of the Christ the Redeemer statue in Brazil surfaced in my mind without warning, feeling like a memory from another life that looked impossibly distant and unreal, while this one did not.
"Human mosquitoes," I muttered.
The thought of vampires made my stomach twist. Their lifeless eyes, their fangs, the way they watched, and the way they wouldn't think twice before feeding off a human. Fear and fascination tangled together in me until I could not tell where one ended and the other began.
"All done, Miss," Xyla said brightly.
She adjusted the gown one last time. The corset tightened my breathing, shallow and restricted, as though even my lungs had been given rules.
I tugged at it without thinking, which didn't do much because the corset did not move. Nilah slid dark gloves into my hands, the silk cool and smooth against my skin.
"Can't I wear something else?" I asked quietly.
I already knew the answer, but saying it out loud felt like resistance, however small.
"I'm sorry, Miss," Xyla said gently. "Lord Zephyrus instructed that you be dressed exactly this way."
She bowed and left the room, with Nilah following close behind.
The silence that remained felt heavier than their presence.
I stood there for another moment, staring at the stranger in the mirror, and wondered how much of myself I would have left by the end of the night.
I straightened my shoulders as much as I could and reminded myself that I had to survive tonight. I had to stay unnoticed, at least long enough to find an opening for me to escape.
Zephyr's presence in the next chamber complicated everything. I had learned quickly that he noticed details most people missed. A pause that lasted too long. A glance that lingered where it should not. Every expression I failed to mask.
One wrong move and he would know.
My thoughts drifted to Lucian without permission. The way nothing ever seemed to reach his face. That calm expression of his had followed me into restless nights, cold and watchful, like frost settling where it did not belong.
I drew in a slow breath and forced the tight flutter in my chest to ease. My pulse was beating too loudly, and I was certain Zephyr could hear it, because all demons seemed to have better hearing than humans do.
The door opened, and Zephyr stepped inside with his attention fixed on me at once. His irides flashed red for a brief moment before softening as though nothing had happened at all. He held out his hand for me, settling the other around my waist, and immediately his fingers brushed mine, sudden warmth spread up my arm.
I didn't like that.
"I thought Lucian would be escorting me," I said quietly.
His expression shifted into mock offense before he laughed, low and amused. "You wound me, Dove. Is this you trying to make your way out of my life?"
If I had the choice, I would not hesitate.
His hand left my waist and the absence of it felt too noticeable, like a shield being pulled away.
We walked down the corridor in silence, the only sound that was being heard were my heels echoing off the glass floor.
My mind replayed every escape route I had rehearsed. The servants' passages. The terrace walls. Even the possibility of persuading a guard if desperation demanded it. Each option shrank under Zephyr's watchful presence, under the awareness in his gaze that felt like he could read my every thought.
"You're quiet," he said, his tone smooth and teasing.
"I'm thinking," I replied, careful to keep my voice steady in other not to give anything away.
He smiled slowly. "Thinking can be dangerous for humans, Dove. Try not to forget that."
"Yeah…" I trailed off, not knowing what else to say after that.
The grand hall doors waited at the end of the corridor, making me draw a calming breath, bracing myself for what was to come.
When the doors opened, the world spilled out all at once.
Light fractured across crystal chandeliers and poured over polished marble. Music rose and folded into laughter and murmurs I could not separate. The air was heavy with perfume and unfamiliar spices, layered with a metallic note that made my stomach churn even before I understood why.
At first glance, They all looked like they were in costumes.
Demons and vampires moved through the hall draped in silks and armor, feathers and jewels, horns and scales catching the light. It took only a few heartbeats to realize the truth. There was nothing artificial about them. This was their skin. Their bones. Their nature.
Some bore golden scales that gleamed like cut stone. Others had wings folded tight against their backs, feathers black and glossy. Horns curved and twisted in shapes that looked painful just to imagine. Vampires drifted among them with unnerving grace, pale faces too still, eyes too sharp, their beauty edged with something cold and hungry.
Every gaze felt aware.
I thought back to the Halloween party that took place in my college weeks ago. Everyone had been in costumes then, painted fangs, plastic claws and horns, body paint, laughter and bad music. We were all pretending that night.
But this….this wasn't pretense.
My grip tightened on the fabric of my dress and for a moment I almost missed the way my attention snapped forward, caught on something singular.
Him.
Alaric stood at the head of the hall, unmoving, silver robes falling cleanly from his shoulders. Dark horns framed his silver hair, the contrast striking enough to pull the eye without effort. He did not need to move to command the space. Everything seemed to angle toward him regardless.
What unsettled me most was his face.
The blindfold I had seen on his face the night we met was gone.
In its place rested a small silver mask that revealed his eyes. They reflected the candlelight with a faint metallic glow that made me forget how to breathe. It felt as though they could pierce through layers I did not know how to shield, past the calm I pretended to have, past the mask I wore, straight into the parts of me that had no defenses at all.
The hall blurred around the edges, and my breathing turned shallow the more I continued to stare at Alaric. Zephyr's hand tightened around my waist, a quiet reminder of where I stood and how little room I had to move.
I continued to watch Alaric. He raised his glass with movements that was unhurried, almost casual, yet it drew silence from the room.
The music fell away. Conversation died mid-breath. Even the air seemed to hold because of that simple motion.
Alaric's head turned, and his gaze met mine.
Before I could decide whether to look away, Zephyr leaned closer, his voice brushing against my ear. "Get ready, Dove. The night is about to get interesting."
"Let the Night's Whisper begin." Alaric spoke and the sound of it carried effortlessly through the hall.
The words rippled outward and something about the crowd changed. Their bodies leaned forward, with anticipating smiles etched onto their faces, waiting for what was to come.
I continued to survey the crowd without knowing why. My gaze slid past Alaric and caught on a man standing near one of the pillars. He was pale and still. He stood way too still, and I wondered for a second if he was breathing.
He wasn't looking at me though.
He was watching Alaric.
The longer I stared, the more paranoid I felt. His face was calm, almost blank, but his hand was clenched around the wine glass as if he didn't trust himself to loosen his grip.
I didn't know what he was.
I only knew he didn't belong to the noise around him.
His eyes never left Alaric. Not when someone laughed nearby. Not when the music changed. Not even when Alaric moved.
A chill crept along my spine.
I Internally scolded myself to stop staring. That I was imagining things. That the fear in me was making everything feel larger than it was.
I glanced away for a second, and when I looked back, he was no longer watching Alaric.
He was watching me.
Our eyes met.
The room seemed to fall away. My lungs forgot what they were supposed to do. His gaze held mine without effort, without surprise, as if he had known I would look back eventually.
He still had that blank expression on his face, but there was something wrong in his eyes. It wasn't anger. It wasn't hunger, but something colder.
Something empty.
I didn't know the word for what he was, but my body did. Every of my instinct screamed the same warning at once.
Predator.
My fingers tightened at my sides as his gaze lingered, unreadable and unblinking.
Then, slowly, his mouth curved into something that was not quite a smile.
And I knew.
Whatever he was, he had just seen me.