The hours blurred together, each bump and jostle of the carriage a fresh torment to my aching body. I couldn’t stop the questions from tumbling through my mind, each more desperate than the last. Were we almost there? Had we crossed the border? What time was it? The growing discomfort in my lower back made minutes feel like eternities.

  Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I reached for the velvet curtain, needing to see something—anything—besides the carriage’s stuffy interior. The forest beyond the window mocked me with its sameness—endless trees swaying in the night wind, their branches like grasping fingers against the starlit sky. My sigh steamed the air. How much longer until I reach my prison?

  A shout pierced the darkness ahead.

  Our carriage maintained its pace at first, but as we drew closer, I could make out distinct male voices carrying through the night air. My heart skipped when we began to slow.

  Through the thin walls, I caught fragments of conversation, my name and title being tossed between unfamiliar voices. The realization hit me like ice water—Ustorian soldiers. The border. This was it.

  The carriage door flew open with enough force to make me flinch. Dom stood there, his familiar face twisted with an unfamiliar coldness, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground as if he couldn’t bear to look at me.

  “Let’s go,” he said, his voice flat and empty.

  Panic clawed at my throat. “We’re in the middle of nowhere! Why would I leave my carriage?” The words came out sharp with fear disguised as anger.

  “You will ride in with Prince Neltavio’s soldiers.”

  “Alone?” My voice cracked on the word. “We can’t possibly be near the castle. You expect me to ride with vampires? By myself?”

  “Hello, Princess.” The voice that interrupted was smooth as honey and twice as sweet. Its owner stepped into view—a vampire soldier whose beauty seemed almost offensive in its perfection. Dark curls framed brown skin that seemed to glow in the moonlight, his Ustorian uniform pristine with its red and black colorings. Of course Nel would send someone this beautiful. Everything about their kind is designed to lure us in.

  Recognition flickered in my mind—I’d seen him that night at court, standing behind Nel and King Serphen when my fate was sealed. The night I learned I’d be sacrificed for peace.

  “I am Sunny,” he continued, his smile warm but careful to hide his fangs. “It is an honor to be in your presence. I, along with the Ustorian brigade, will escort you the rest of the way. Your safety is our priority.”

  My throat felt tight. “I—I would like my men to come along.”

  “That is perfectly fine,” Sunny said, looking to Dom for confirmation.

  One of my father’s men stepped forward. “We have strict orders from the king to release you into their custody at the border.”

  Of course he’d give those orders. The betrayal stung fresh, even though I should have expected it.

  “It’s an act of good faith,” Dom added quietly, still avoiding my eyes. The weight of his failed escape plan hung heavy between us.

  Sunny’s smile brightened. “See, Princess? Your father put his trust in us to get you safely to the castle. It is an honor to carry out such a duty.” He extended his hand with an elegant bow. “Shall we?”

  Against every instinct screaming at me to run, I placed my trembling hand in his. His skin was warmer than I expected—I’d always imagined vampires would feel like corpses.

  “You’ll ride in the carriage ahead,” Sunny explained. “Tristan will help you inside while I collect your belongings.”

  My feet felt leaden as I walked away from my last connection to home. I gathered my skirts, refusing to look back at Dom. Fine. Be a coward. Tristan, tall and silent as a shadow, helped me into the new carriage without a word.

  The sound of my luggage being transferred seemed to echo in the night air like hammer falls on a coffin lid. Then we were moving, carrying me toward my new life among the undead. Toward a marriage I never wanted, to a prince who probably saw me as nothing more than a political convenience.

  Here goes everything.

  When we reached the castle, the air thickened with an unmistakable scent—iron mixed with melted cane sugar, the telltale aroma of vampires. My nose wrinkled involuntarily. The smell wasn’t exactly unpleasant, just… wrong. Unnatural. But at least it confirmed what I was dealing with. No more pretending these creatures were anything but what they were.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  A shiver snaked up my spine as reality finally sank its teeth in. I would live among vampires. Marry one. And not just any vampire—a prince whose ego could fill this entire castle. My own pride, my carefully cultivated strength, seemed to wither with each passing moment I pictured Nel’s face. That cursedly beautiful visage that seemed designed to steal not just attention, but sanity itself. If merely thinking about him could reduce me to this state, how could I possibly face him again?

  The carriage halted, and I found myself staring up at what would become my prison. The entrance doors rose before us, massive things of brassy gold weathered by centuries. Elegant rose carvings adorned each corner, their craftsmanship so fine they seemed almost alive in the torchlight. I was so transfixed by the inscriptions that I barely noticed Sunny offering his hand until he cleared his throat. He aided me out of the carriage with the same practiced courtesy leading me inside.

  The foyer nearly stopped my heart. Instead of the gothic nightmare I’d imagined, I found myself in a space of unexpected beauty. Beige walls soared upward, softened by cascading tropical plants that draped like living curtains from clay pots above. Rose-shaped sconces held dancing flames that cast their light across red dragon stone floors, making the golden veins in the stone pulse like living things.

  “Got a good look, Princess Loretta?” Sunny’s smile flashed fangs.

  I startled, having forgotten his presence entirely. “I’m sorry. Let’s continue.”

  The walk through dim corridors felt endless, my anxiety mounting with each step. By the time we reached the central castle, my palms felt slick with sweat. King Serphen and Queen Fiora waited beneath a massive chandelier, but the space beside them—where Nel should have been—stood conspicuously empty.

  The king’s beauty was terrible in its perfection, but it was the queen who made my blood run cold. Fiora was winter personified, her beauty as terrible as a frozen lake that could crack and swallow you whole. Those black eyes, so like Nel’s yet somehow colder, assessed me with removed charm.

  “Please tell my son the princess has arrived,” King Serphen commanded Sunny.

  I watched Sunny disappear down a corridor, my heart pounding against my ribs. The following moments stretched like years as I stood before vampire royalty, forcing my face into what I hoped was a pleasant expression. Queen Fiora’sscrutiny felt like ice against my skin.

  King Serphen, his presence radiating an almost divine authority, extended a hand towards me. “Princess Loretta,” he began, his voice a resonant baritone that filled the vast chamber, “welcome to Ustoria. It is pleasure to see you again.” His smile, though captivating, held a hint of something inscrutable, a depth that both intrigued and unsettled. Perhaps it was the scene I caused during their meeting, my clear disapproval of the arranged marriage to his son.

  Beside him, Queen Fiora, a vision of glacial elegance, offered a curt nod. “Queen Fiora,” she stated simply, her voice as crisp and cold as the winter wind. Her piercing eyes met mine, a silent appraisal that sent a shiver down my spine. There was a power in her stillness, a sense of contained force that made her seem almost more intimidating than the king himself.

  My breath hitched, the weight of their combined presence nearly overwhelming. I gathered my courage, summoning the strength I had carefully cultivated over the years. “Your Majesties,” I managed, my voice trembling slightly despite my efforts, “it is an honor to be… welcomed to your kingdom.” My words felt small and inadequate in the face of their regal bearing, but I held my ground, determined to maintain a semblance of composure.

  When Sunny returned without Nel, I felt both relief and disappointment. At least the searing spotlight of their attention had shifted.

  “Prince Neltavio is indisposed,” he said, the words falling like stones into still water.

  Queen Fiora’s laugh—sharp and knowing—cut through the air. “Ha! Right.” She turned to me with mock sympathy that felt like claws against my skin. “Well, Loretta, I am pleased to meet you, but I am going to bed.” The way she said my name, without title or ceremony, was clearly intentional.

  That’s it? Some welcome!

  The journey to my room became a blur of corridors and mounting fury. Each step felt like another insult added to the pile. When we passed what I assumed was Nel’s wing, I couldn’t stop myself.

  “Take me to his room,” I demanded, my voice steadier than I felt. I’d given up everything to be here, and I’d be damned if I wouldn’t see him now.

  “The prince had plans to meet you tomorrow morning,” Sunny offered.

  That wasn’t nearly enough. “Take me to him,” I demanded.

  The walk to Nel’s chambers was a torturous procession, each step echoing the rising dread in my heart. As we approached his door, a low murmur seeped through the thick wood, escalating into unmistakable sounds of passion. The woman’s moans were breathy gasps, escalating with a deliberate rhythm that felt like a pointed insult. It wasn’t the intimacy itself that cut me—it was the blatant, almost theatrical quality of it, as if performed for an audience. My cheeks flushed hot, then a wave of icy coldness washed over me, the humiliation battling with a surge of white-hot rage. Nel hadn’t forgotten my arrival, nor was he truly unavailable. He had chosen this. He had chosen her. The sound of Nel’s laughter, a low chuckle rumbling beneath the woman’s cries, amplified the surreal nature of the moment. His amusement at their shared passion was palpable, a cruel twist of the knife that sent a wave of nausea rolling through me.

  My fingers choked the locked doorknob on impulse, and for one wild moment, I considered kicking it down. Instead, I straightened my spine, lifted my chin, and spoke through clenched teeth: “Take me to my room. Now.”

  The emerald and gold suite they’d prepared for me was beautiful, but I barely saw it through my fury. An hour rushed by when I stripped off my carefully chosen gown—what a waste—and was just about to collapse into bed, a light knock at my door.

  I grabbed a silk robe hanging nearby, similar to the queen’s, and yanked it on. When I opened the door, there stood Nel, devastating in his beauty and utterly unapologetic. His fangs gleamed as an incomplete grin formed.

  “I heard you were demanding my presence.”