Aurelia barely slept that night. The air in her chambers clung to her skin like mist, thick and suffocating, laced with an unease she couldn't name. No matter how tightly she curled beneath her blankets, no matter how she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to count the flickering reflections of candlelight on the stone walls, sleep danced just out of reach. It was a cruel thing, teasing the edges of her mind, offering the promise of escape only to rip it away the moment she began to drift.
She finally surrendered to exhaustion just as the sky began to pale with the first hints of dawn, her dreams restless and scattered. Faces she barely recognized flitted through the haze of her mind, her mother's voice lost on the wind, her father's cold stare heavy as a mountain upon her shoulders. Then there was him. The knight. The man with no name, no face, only a pair of crimson eyes that pierced through the shadows.
When the soft knock finally came at her door, it felt both sudden and expected.
"My lady, it's time," Lina whispered as she pushed the heavy door open, her voice gentle and careful, as though wary of shattering whatever fragile barrier Aurelia had built around herself during those few stolen hours. The young maid crossed the room with a tray balanced in her hands, carrying warmed bread, ripe figs, and a cup of honeyed tea fragrant with spices.
Aurelia groaned softly but forced herself upright, the blankets sliding from her shoulders. Lina offered her a small, encouraging smile as she moved to the bedside and brushed the stray hair from Aurelia's face with the same tenderness she'd shown since they were children.
"I've drawn your bath, my lady. It'll chase the sleep from your bones."
Aurelia doubted that. The heaviness in her chest felt too deep, rooted somewhere far beyond the reach of lavender-scented water. But she nodded anyway, allowing Lina to help her from the bed. The warmth of the bath eased the chill from her skin, the water clouded with mint leaves and crushed petals. She closed her eyes and let it soak into her bones, but the unease remained. It pressed against her temples, curled around her thoughts, a silent reminder that something was wrong.
She tried to blame it on the whispers she'd overheard about vampire raids at the borders, the cruel taunts from one of her father's wives at dinner the night before, the looming shadow of a marriage arranged for political gain. But Aurelia knew better. Deep down, she knew exactly what haunted her.
It was him.
Ever since that night at the village fair, Lucien had been a constant, unyielding presence. He did not speak unless spoken to, never strayed more than a few steps from her side, and seemed to move through the castle like a shadow stitched to her own. Aurelia was no stranger to guards. She had spent her childhood slipping past them, darting between corridors, and evading their watchful eyes. None of them had ever unsettled her the way he did. None of them made her heart stutter or her stomach tighten with a mixture of unease and something she was too wary to name.
After her bath, Lina dressed her in a soft gown the color of cream, the fabric light enough for the warming spring air. Her hair was left mostly loose, a single braid curling behind one ear, a small defiance against the towering, stiff hairstyles favored by the court. As they made their way through the winding corridor, Aurelia's gaze landed on the tall figure waiting by the archway. The knight's face remained hidden beneath the heavy helmet, the polished silver of his armor catching the morning light like fire.
She rolled her eyes. "Don't you ever blink?" she muttered as she passed him.
He said nothing. She didn't expect him to.
The morning unfolded in a blur of stiff conversation and hollow courtesies. The court buzzed with rumors, voices lowered in speculation about border attacks and missing travelers. Every mention of spilled blood sent a knot tightening in Aurelia's stomach. She sat through the council meeting, her father's unreadable expression fixed on the assembly as they discussed alliances and battle strategies. When it was finally over, she fled.
She needed to breathe.
The conservatory near the eastern wing was one of the few places in the palace untouched by politics and deceit. Its glass walls caught the afternoon sun, the entire room glowing as though trapped within a jewel. Vines climbed the rafters, weaving through beams, and flowers of every color spilled from stone planters. It smelled of earth, old warmth, and blooming life. Aurelia sank onto a bench beside a marble fountain, letting the soft trickle of water soothe the pounding in her head.
She closed her eyes, listening to the way the world quieted here, and for a moment, it almost felt like peace.
Then she felt it.
A shadow, tall and silent, fell across the room's entrance. She opened her eyes and found him there.
"Do you always lurk?" she asked, her voice a mixture of irritation and weariness.
"I guard," came the reply, deep and even.
She scoffed, turning to face him fully. "There's nothing here but flowers and birds. Are you afraid the roses will rise up and attack me?"
His head tilted, just a fraction. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn he smiled. She studied him then. Noticed the way the sunlight struck the curve of his jaw beneath the helmet, the faint movement of his chest with each breath. She knew she should have felt annoyed. She should have ordered him away, demanded some distance. But instead, all she felt was an unsettling pull, an almost unbearable curiosity.
A flicker of light caught her eye.
A mirror, propped carelessly against a nearby pillar, caught the afternoon sun and sent a narrow beam of reflection across the floor. She glanced at it absently—and froze.
His reflection.
For a heartbeat, it faltered.
The polished glass showed nothing where he stood. The space behind him shimmered, as though the glass struggled to decide whether to acknowledge his presence at all. It was a flicker, no more than a second, but it was there.
Aurelia's breath hitched, her heart stumbling in her chest. She snapped her gaze back to him, but Lucien remained motionless. Silent. Her mind reeled. No. It must have been a trick of the light, her sleep-deprived mind playing cruel games.
A sudden sharp sting in her palm dragged her back to the present. A single rose petal had fallen onto the bench beside her, concealing a thorn beneath its delicate curve. A drop of blood welled on her skin, bright and vivid against her pale hand.
Before she could react, he was there.
Faster than she thought humanly possible, his gloved hand caught her wrist. The world narrowed, sounds muffled and blurred at the edges of her awareness as she stared up at him. His helmet had shifted, revealing the lower half of his face. Pale skin, sharp jaw, lips slightly parted, breath shallow.
And then his eyes.
Uncovered.
A deep, stormy crimson that seemed to burn from within. Not the red of blood spilled on battlefields, but something older, colder. A color belonging to ancient tales, to warnings whispered around dying fires.
Aurelia's pulse stuttered. She felt it then—the raw, dangerous hunger simmering beneath the surface. It was there in his eyes, in the way his fingers tightened around her wrist, the way the air between them seemed to thrum.
For one breathless moment, neither of them moved.
Then he let go.
Lucien stepped back, pulling the helmet down once more, and the dangerous glint vanished, replaced by the cold, unreadable knight she knew.
"I'm fine," she managed, though her voice was unsteady.
"I will send for Lina," he said shortly, already turning.
She reached out, grabbing his arm. "Wait."
He paused, but did not turn to face her.
"What are you?" she whispered.
A long, heavy silence settled between them.
Then, so softly she barely caught the words, he replied. "Nothing you need to fear."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving behind the scent of iron, rain, and something else Aurelia could not name.
She sat alone in the conservatory, her heart pounding in her chest, the blood on her palm a stark reminder. The questions burned hotter than ever, louder than all the old stories. Something was happening within these walls. Something far bigger than her father's marriage decree, bigger than border raids and court gossip.
And she was at the heart of it.