Chapter One: Causing a Scene!

  Kainen stood before the long wall mirror, studying his own disheveled reflection. His blood-red hair steamed faintly as mana coursed through the wet strands, drying them while the elderly maid behind him combed through each lock with patient precision.

  He watched in silence as she straightened the last of it, then tied it back with a flexible silver band set with a teardrop ruby at its center.

  As the matron pushed a loose strand of grey hair over her shoulder, Kainen lifted his arms to let her slip a black dress shirt over them. Golden patterns flowed across the fabric like liquid metal, weaving together into the image of a bloody fountain filling eight chalices.

  Without pause, she moved in front of him, fastening the ruby buttons one by one. After smoothing a wrinkle from his sleeve, she took a long coat from the rack and eased it over his shoulders. The jacket, deep black with scarlet embroidery mirroring the shirt beneath, fastened at the waist with a belt, leaving the rest to drape freely past his thighs and open in a wide V from the chest up.

  Finally, Agatha stepped back and presented her offerings with practiced grace. In one hand, she held a pair of V-shaped ear adornments silver set with rubies. In the other, a polished pocket watch engraved with the Argentum crest.

  Kainen accepted both, fixing the jewellery to the tips of his pointed ears before clipping the chain of the watch to his coat and tucking it neatly into his pocket.

  “Thank you, as always, Madame Agatha,” he said with a faint curve of his lips a small but sincere gesture.

  “It is always a pleasure to serve you, young master Ebonhart,” she replied with a graceful bow before slipping quietly from the room.

  Left to his reflection once more, Kainen took a moment to study the result. His once-wild hair had been tamed into a sleek wolf’s tail. His eyes glowed softly red against pitch-black sclera, thin violet veins threading through the darkness. His face was lean, gaunt and angular, with high cheekbones and a broad jaw that gave a predatory hungry cast to his otherwise striking features.

  The suit fit him perfectly loose at the chest, close at the hips, emphasizing the lithe strength hidden beneath his frame. When he parted his lips, four long fangs caught the light, honed and symmetrical, they interlocked perfectly within his mouth.

  Then his gaze dropped to his exposed chest and neck.

  She hasn’t given me anything to wear over my neck... well, I suppose in matters of fashion, I’ll trust Agatha’s judgment, he thought, a mirthful smirk creeping across his lips.

  Turning on his heels, he started toward the door just as a deep voice boomed through the halls loud enough to rattle the glass, yet calm and patient in tone.

  “Children! Come along now, we’ll be late if you keep dawdling.”

  Stepping out of his chambers, Kainen found his father waiting in the corridor between his and his sister’s rooms. The man was dressed similarly to him, though his silver was replaced by gold, and a sweeping cape of midnight bat leather hung from his shoulders.

  “Lord Argentum,” Kainen said, offering a half-bow and a growing smirk, “I am at your disposal.”

  “Kain,” his father sighed, exasperation clear in his tone. “We’re at home, not court. You can call me father. Even dad. You used to be adorable, you know then you turned into this tiny adult somehow twice as annoying and nowhere near as funny.”

  Kainen froze mid-bow, his nose wrinkling as embarrassment flickered across his face. When he finally straightened, he forced composure back into his voice.

  “I’m a grown man in my prime, father. I’m simply trying to set a good example for Alyssa.”

  His father snorted. “Try that line again when you’ve actually finished growing.” Then, leaning closer, he added in a mock whisper, “Besides, your sister wouldn’t recognize a good example if it robbed her in a dark alley.”

  His grin vanished the instant Alyssa stepped out of her room, slamming the door behind her.

  “I heard that,” she snapped, but Father’s tone was flat as stone. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  She gawked at him for a beat, incredulous, before turning to Kainen. “You heard him, didn’t you?”

  “I also don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kainen replied quickly.

  He glanced down at his pocket watch. “Oh, good hells, Father look at the time! We should go!” he said a little too eagerly.

  Their father chuckled but took the excuse all the same, ushering them both out toward the waiting carriage.

  Once the three of us had settled onto the dark, polished wood seats of the carriage, their father began to speak, his fingers tapping together a habit he often fell into when discussing anything serious.

  “I trust you both remember exactly why we’re attending this event, yes?” he asked, though he didn’t wait for an answer. “We have fences to mend. The last war was... costly. We lost good allies and made even more enemies through the choices we had to make. So, I need you both on your best behaviour.”

  He turned his gaze toward Alyssa. “No fighting or issuing challenges unless it’s absolutely necessary to maintain our house’s honour.” Then, shifting to me, his tone sharpened just slightly. “And you, Kainen no more showing off. We aren’t at war anymore. These are our allies and friends. Act like it.”

  Both Alyssa and Kain nodded, neither of them foolish enough to question his judgment.

  Time passed in comfortable silence as the carriage rolled along the cobbled road, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels filling the lull. Eventually, their father spoke again.

  “So, tell me, Kainen,” he said in a deceptively casual tone, “is there a reason your neck is uncovered?”

  It took Kain a moment to realize what he meant. When he looked up, he saw that both the patriarch and Alyssa wore something around their necks a mark of etiquette he'd slipped up on.

  A black leather choker adorned with silver and sapphire rested against his sister’s pale skin, while a gold and black cravat was neatly tied at his father’s throat.

  “I... I hadn’t realized,” Kain began, but he finished for me, chuckling softly.

  “You hadn’t realized you were ignoring the most basic rule of noble presentation? I swear, Kain, you’re far too soft on the human help. I’m glad you like them, but be careful, or your sister will have them putting you in a dress next.”

  Heat flushed towards the young vampires face despite his bloodless complexion.

  “I’m sure she just thought I’d look better this way,” Kainen muttered, earning laughter from both of them.

  Leaning his steel jaw against knuckles, he turned to watch the scenery blur past the window for the rest of the ride. His mind wandered as It considered the matter of trust and of humans. He simply couldn’t see why they were to be treated as lesser.

  Does weakness and a finite life really make something so… lowly?

  He felt the carriage’s grinding jostle slow to a halt as the horses drew still. When he stepped down from the grand vehicle of dark polished wood trimmed in silver flowers and draped in scarlet he looked up to behold the dark majesty of his host’s estate.

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  A colossal fortress loomed atop the cliff’s edge, its black spires clawing at the sky like obsidian fangs. The full moon hung behind it, shrouding the stronghold in a pale, ethereal glow the only celestial light a vampire would ever be permitted to bathe in.

  Before he could truly take in the sight, a cadre of young men in immaculate white uniforms emerged from the courtyard, their steps purposeful. One among them, tall, broad-shouldered, and dark-skinned, approached with a refined smile that revealed perfectly white teeth.

  “If it pleases your lordship,” he said with a courteous bow, “allow me to escort you to the main event and assist with anything you may desire this evening. I am Curtis.”

  Kain returned his smile with one of measured restraint, inclining his head just enough to acknowledge the greeting. “It would please me greatly, Curtis. Lead on.”

  He bowed once more and turned, his footsteps utterly silent.

  Beyond the gate stretched fields of violet blooms, the petals blanketing the ground on either side of the road as far as vampiric eyes could see. Walls of roses and thorns rose in intricate intervals, weaving a living tapestry of red and purple that blended together like dusk and blood.

  This place must look divine from the air, he mused. Perhaps I should speak with Father about acquiring something similar for our own estate.

  The path transitioned from cobblestone to crimson carpet as they crossed the threshold, passing beneath an archway of black stone so polished it seemed to drink the light around it. Inside, the corridors were lined with blackwood from the Eastern forests, their surfaces carved with archaic knots that flowed across the wood-work accented with arcing motifs that whispered of ancient craftsmanship.

  At last, Curtis stopped before a towering set of double doors adorned with silver inlay. With a smooth, deliberate motion, he pushed them open.

  The ballroom of Viscount Tyranarblade stretched out before him vast and opulent beyond words. It was a monument to wealth and power; an entire village could fit within and still leave space untouched.

  Golden filigree traced the walls, and above hung an array of crystal chandeliers. Within each, teal flames floated and danced in crystalline cages, casting soft blue light across the hall. It was a pale imitation of moonlight, yet hauntingly beautiful all the same.

  I wonder how mortals see in light such as this…

  His gaze trailed the crimson carpet as it unfurled from the door to the far end of the hall, climbing a shallow stairway before ending at a white marble throne, conspicuously vacant.

  Stepping fully into the ballroom, He followed that gleaming path of red luxury before veering toward the bar.

  I’m certain Father will want to handle the introductions himself. He thought. Yes, that’s what I’ll tell myself.

  Leaning an elbow on the polished blackwood counter, the young heir caught a bartender’s eye with a lazy gesture.

  “I’ll have a vial of Nephilim blood.”

  The half-blood behind the bar a dhampir, judging by his scent, arched an eyebrow. He added quickly, with a flick of his wrist,

  “I’ve had it before. I’m tolerant.”

  His face smoothed into professional neutrality. Reaching beneath the counter, he retrieved a crystal bottle etched with winding silver filigree. With a soft click, the seal came free, and he poured the liquid gold into a tall glass.

  The blood shimmered faintly, emitting a warm, celestial glow that hummed against his skin a pleasant sting, akin to sunlight through glass. The dhampir instinctively took a cautious half-step back.

  Before Kain could lift the glass, a sharp feminine voice came from my left smooth, teasing, self-assured.

  “The night’s quite young for a drink like that, don’t you think, Lord Ebonhart?”

  He turned. A young woman in a steel-grey gown stood beside him, her pale skin kissed by the cool blue light of the chandeliers. Her grey eyes regarded me with equal parts amusement and judgment.

  Kainen's lips curved into a soft smile, fangs glinting in the pale light.

  “Lady Steelblood. What a pleasure to once again find myself in your most luminous company.”

  Rising from his lean, he crossed one hand over his chest, claws resting lightly against his black heart; he bowed with deliberate grace.

  She responded with a curtsy so shallow it bordered on mockery, lifting her gown barely an inch.

  “So,” she said, brow raised and head tilted just so, “about the drink, lover boy?” Her tone dripped with playful venom.

  “That was one time,” he said, feigning indignation.

  “Four times, Kainen,” she corrected instantly, stepping closer. “Four times they caught you and scandalous enough that even I heard the stories.”

  he mouthed the words back at her in exaggerated mimicry, expression twisting into a mask of mock offense.

  “It’s just Nephilim blood. I’m resistant enough,” he said, raising the glass. “Angels’ blood, though… now that would be a different story.”

  He took a long sip. The ichor was divine golden fire, honey and lightning blazing down his throat even as dark mana surged to meet it. Holy energy writhed and crackled within his veins before being consumed entirely, leaving behind a warm, intoxicating buzz.

  Beneath the bar, he let his fingers twitch through a familiar sequence the shape of one of his earliest spells. Power stirred quietly at the call.

  Arcane energy coiled through his mind, settling behind his eyes.

  For a heartbeat, waves of information flooded through his senses before beginning to fade. Silent casting always came with its cost, the spell’s duration, slashed to mere moments. Still, it was enough.

  The ballroom came alive before me, awash in light only I could see. Auras shimmered and bled together threads of color painting the emotions everyone tried to hide.

  Lady Steelblood’s aura shone steel-grey, threaded with pulses of dark violet blooming from her heart. Anxiety rolled off her in quiet waves, but there was no trace of malice. Not toward him, at least.

  I really should trust her by now. the lordling thought grimly letting the spell dissolve.

  “So, Syl,” he said, tone deliberately casual, “what’s eating at you?”

  Her eyes widened, then narrowed sharply. “Xiandra! What have I told you about doing that to me? It’s an utter invasion of my privacy!”

  Her voice drew a few curious glances, but she restrained herself, thankfully, it was too public for her to hit him here. And after a tense moment, she exhaled and relented, as she always did.

  “It’s Darvneev,” she admitted at last, shoulders slumping as though the name itself were heavy.

  I slid closer, glass in hand. “Your fiancé? What’s wrong this time?”

  “He’s pushing to move the marriage date up, to when we’re of age. That’s only forty years away, Kain!”

  Before I could reply, she barreled on, frustration spilling over.

  “And now he’s obsessed with becoming a Dungeon Lord. It’s madness! There’s no precedent for it, they’re always at least half-human! But he keeps insisting there’s a way to earn Eidruhn’s favor.”

  When she finally stopped, her hands were trembling, eyes clouded with fear.

  She’s still only sixty, I reminded myself, taking her hands in mine.

  “Listen, Sylvia. Take it easy, alright? Forty years might sound close, but you’ve got time to think things through. And remember, this is just a house marriage, you don’t have to love him. Melotrix knows I won’t be marrying for love either.”

  I paused until she met my gaze again.

  “And don’t worry about his obsession. Whatever he’s chasing, it doesn’t concern you. He’ll get over it eventually. He’ll have to. Eidruhn only comes to the young, even if he made an exception for a vampire.”

  Sylvia huffed softly, pulling her hands free. She smoothed her dress, before holding her hands before her face, composing herself with practiced grace before standing. She lowered her hands and when she looked down at me again, her face was perfectly unreadable.

  “Thank you for your words, Lord Ebonhart. I will leave you to your evening,” she said, gliding toward the dance floor.

  With practiced grace, I straightened, assuming the proud composure expected under so many watching eyes.

  Turning from the bar, glass in hand, I surveyed the ballroom. Moving through clusters of nobles, I offered greetings, traded pleasantries with the young heirs who would one day lead their houses, and paid my respects to the dames who bound our families together.

  The Nephilim’s blood served its purpose well. Its rarity and my tolerance for such a holy drink made me a curiosity among the younger nobles, who were far from ready to handle its potency.

  As the night deepened and distant guests began to leave, the drink worked too well. My smiles grew easier, my laughter more genuine. My fangs flashed often in the blue light as I found myself not just enduring the company but enjoying it.

  Then, inevitably, the spell broke.

  A soft impact brushed my cheek a glove. I turned slowly, laughter dying in my throat, eyes hardening, the edges of my smile sharpening into something cruel.

  “Darvneev,” I said evenly, “what is the meaning of this? If you’re jesting, it’s a poor choice of humor, my friend.”

  “This is no jest, Kainen!” he barked.

  “You have crossed a line. I have tolerated your familiarity with my fiancée long enough, but to meddle in our private affairs”

  His claws flexed, voice trembling with barely leashed fury. “I will not suffer such disrespect.”

  His tone carried a cold contempt I had never heard from the man I’d begun to consider a brother.

  I squared my shoulders, turning to face him fully, palms open at my sides. “Darv, she came to me as a friend, and I answered as one. That is all. I would prefer not to spill your blood tonight. Retract your challenge.”

  The words left my lips like nails being driven into wood, each syllable final, heavy with the promise of consequence. Darvneev faltered, just slightly, before his gaze hardened again.

  “My fiancée is fond of you, False-Silver,” he sneered.

  “So I’ll grant lenient terms. A duel until submission. If I win, you will never again speak of me to Lady Steelblood without my presence, sealed by pact. Now, your terms… unless, of course, you’re a coward.”

  The slur hit its mark. My ears twitched, my expression twisting into a vicious snarl that came all too easily to my angular features. The insult stirred something primal within me.

  “Upon my victory,” I hissed, “I’ll see you flayed twice for this disgrace.”

  “Procure a witness. We duel tonight.”

  Without another word, he turned sharply on his heels and strode toward the gardens, fury burning in his chest like molten steel.