Chapter 2

The doors swung open with the kind of creak that said “Yes, I’ve been here for centuries and I will haunt you.”

I stepped inside and immediately understood why the book had called the great hall “a cathedral to ambition.”

The ceiling soared so high I thought clouds might drift past. A glittering chandelier dripped with crystals, casting fractured light over polished black marble. A long table stretched almost the length of the room, set with golden plates, tall goblets, and an alarming number of sharp knives.

At the far end of that table sat him.

Duke Corvinus Valemont.

He looked exactly like the novel had described: tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair streaked with silver at the temples and eyes the color of steel in winter. His presence filled the room—calm, controlled, but with that edge of danger, like the moment before lightning strikes.

And, oh, the fangs. Subtle, but there.

Those eyes locked on me, and my brain immediately forgot how to operate basic functions like “walk” and “form sentences.”

“Astrid,” he said, voice smooth and deep enough to send a shiver straight down my spine. “You’re awake.”

I considered saying something polite and elegant. Instead, I blurted, “Uh… yep! Alive and kicking. Well, not kicking. Unless you want me to. Not that I kick people for fun, that would be weird—”

Stop. Talking. Astrid.

His expression didn’t change, but I swear I saw the faintest twitch of an eyebrow. “Sit.”

I scurried to the nearest chair like an obedient puppy. Unfortunately, the chair legs screeched against the floor in a way that could only be described as “sonic torture.” I smiled brightly, as if I hadn’t just committed a crime against furniture.

The Duke studied me for a long, silent moment. “You look… different.”

My heart skipped. Could he tell I wasn’t the “real” Astrid?

I gave a small, awkward laugh. “Different good, I hope? I’ve been… uh… working on my, you know, vibe.”

He leaned back, steepling his fingers. “Your ‘vibe.’”

“Yes! You know. More approachable. Less… uh…” I gestured vaguely at my face. “Intimidating?”

That earned me a very faint smirk—gone almost as soon as it appeared. “Hmm.”

The sound he made was not comforting.

Servants moved quietly around the hall, pouring deep red liquid into goblets. One set a glass in front of me, and I froze.

Blood.

I mean, obviously. I was sitting in a vampire’s dining hall. But knowing it and seeing it were two very different experiences. The metallic scent hit me like a punch to the nose. My stomach flipped—half nausea, half a strange, unsettling hunger that did not belong to my human self.

The Duke noticed. “Drink.”

I lifted the goblet, trying to look casual, and took the tiniest sip possible. Warm. Thick. Rich in a way that made my human brain go nope and my new vampire instincts go more.

I set it down quickly before either part of me won the argument.

“So,” I said, desperate to change the subject. “What’s new in the… great hall world?”

His gaze sharpened. “There was an incident last night. An intruder in the outer grounds. A wolf.”

My spine went rigid. A wolf. As in werewolf. As in the creatures who, in the book, would be directly involved in my untimely demise.

“They were repelled,” he continued, “but it is… troubling. These are dangerous times, Astrid. You would do well to be careful.”

“Oh, totally,” I said quickly. “Careful is my middle name. Well, technically it’s Marie, but you get the idea.”

This time, I was almost certain I saw the corner of his mouth twitch upward. But the moment was over in a blink.

“I have business to attend to,” he said, standing. “Do not wander the grounds alone.”

“Got it. No solo midnight adventures. Definitely not me.”

He gave me one last look—measured, calculating—before sweeping out of the hall with the grace of someone who’d probably been terrifying people for centuries.

The second he was gone, I exhaled so hard I almost deflated.

I glanced at the goblet in front of me, the surface of the blood reflecting the chandelier’s light. My stomach gave an uncomfortable twist.

Somewhere deep down, a quiet voice whispered: You’re not human anymore.

I pushed the thought away. I had enough to deal with without an identity crisis on top of a survival crisis.

When I left the great hall, the corridors felt different—like the shadows had stretched just a little longer, the air a little colder. I passed a tall window and caught my reflection in the moonlit glass: silver hair, red eyes, and a smile that was starting to look a lot more dangerous than I meant it to.

---

I’d been stuffed, laced, and pinned into a gown so elaborate it probably required its own building permit. Layers of deep crimson silk, black lace trailing like spiderwebs, and sleeves so wide I could’ve smuggled snacks in them if I wanted. Which I did. Obviously.

“You look radiant, my lady,” said the maid from yesterday—Marien, I’d learned—while she adjusted a jeweled choker at my neck. “All of the court will be watching you tonight.”

Oh, great. No pressure.

The “banquet” tonight wasn’t just dinner. According to Astrid’s memories, it was a full-blown event, hosted by my father to celebrate the arrival of an important guest. Which meant I had to survive several hours of polite conversation with people who could snap my neck like a breadstick.

“Who’s the guest again?” I asked, fidgeting with the sleeves.

Marien’s eyes flicked to mine in the mirror. “His Highness, Prince Lucien of House Draeven.”

I froze.

Lucien.

The male lead of Blood and Moonlight. Dark-haired, golden-eyed, impossibly beautiful, with a smile that could charm the fangs off a snake. In the novel, he was both hero and heartbreaker—a vampire prince torn between love and political duty. And, in Lady Astrid’s timeline, he barely noticed her before she died.

Well, this time, he was going to notice me. Even if it killed me.

…Okay, bad choice of words.

---

The great hall looked different tonight. More alive. Hundreds of candles floated above the tables in delicate glass orbs, their light reflecting off crystal goblets and silver cutlery. The scent of roses was stronger, almost cloying, mingled with something richer—blood, obviously.

Dozens of vampires mingled in the room, all elegance and danger wrapped in silk and jewels. Their laughter was soft, their movements graceful. It was like watching a ballroom scene from a dream, except everyone here could probably kill me in under ten seconds.

My father stood at the far end, speaking with a tall figure whose very presence seemed to command the air around him.

Lucien.

Even from across the room, he was impossible to miss. Tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that fell just enough into his eyes to make him look like he’d stepped straight off a fantasy book cover. His golden gaze was sharp, scanning the room like he was cataloging threats and weaknesses in a single glance.

Marien nudged me forward. “Go. Make an impression.”

Easier said than done.

I walked carefully—well, as carefully as I could in shoes that felt like medieval torture devices—until I reached my father. He turned as I approached.

“Astrid,” he said, his voice carrying just enough weight to hush the conversation around us. “This is Prince Lucien.”

Lucien’s gaze swept over me, assessing, unreadable. And wow, up close, he was even more ridiculous-looking. Perfect jawline, perfect cheekbones, perfect everything. It was unfair. No one should be allowed to look like that and still function in society.

I dipped into the most graceful curtsy I could manage. Which, to my credit, was almost graceful—until I wobbled slightly on the way back up.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Highness,” I said, smiling my brightest, bubbliest smile. “I’ve heard so much about you. Mostly about your… uh… sword skills.”

His brow lifted slightly. “My sword skills.”

“Yes! I mean, I’ve never actually seen them, but I’m sure they’re very… sharp.”

Oh no. Oh no no no.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward, like he wasn’t sure whether to laugh at me or be insulted. “I’m glad my… sharpness precedes me.”

My father shot me a glance that said Do not embarrass me further.

---

Dinner was… an experience.

The menu consisted of dishes that looked normal enough—roasted meats, glazed vegetables—but every goblet at the table was filled with blood. I stuck to water. Which, by the way, made me the only person in the room not drinking blood, and I could feel the curious stares from the other guests.

Lucien sat across from me, his attention mostly on my father and the other nobles, but every so often his gaze would flick toward me. Once, I caught him looking and offered a cheerful wave. He didn’t wave back, but I think I saw the faintest twitch of amusement before he hid it behind his goblet.

---

After the meal, the music started—strings and piano weaving together into something haunting and beautiful. Couples drifted onto the dance floor, gliding with inhuman grace.

I was content to stay seated, sipping my water and pretending not to stare, when a shadow fell over me.

Lucien.

“Lady Astrid,” he said, offering his hand. “May I have this dance?”

My brain short-circuited.

“Oh! Uh, sure. But fair warning, I might accidentally step on your feet. Repeatedly.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.

---

Dancing with a vampire was… intense. His movements were effortless, guiding me across the floor like we’d done this a hundred times before. Meanwhile, I was frantically trying to remember which foot was left and which was right.

“You’re… very quiet,” he said after a moment.

“That’s because I’m concentrating on not tripping and causing an international incident.”

His golden eyes gleamed with amusement. “I see.”

We moved in silence for a few beats, and then I blurted, “So… do you dance with a lot of girls at banquets, or am I special?”

His brow arched. “Would you like the truth or the answer you’d prefer?”

I blinked. “…Both?”

He chuckled softly—a sound that was far too attractive for my own good. “You are… memorable, Lady Astrid.”

My heart did a weird little flip. “I’ll take it.”

---

The dance ended, and as I stepped back, I caught sight of a figure watching us from the shadows near the far wall. Tall. Broad. Not dressed like the vampires.

A chill ran down my spine.

A wolf.

They were gone a moment later, slipping into the crowd, but the hair on the back of my neck stayed up.

This was supposed to be a safe event. Wolves weren’t supposed to be here.

Lucien followed my gaze, his expression sharpening. “Something wrong?”

I forced a smile. “Nope. Everything’s great. Just… you know. Enjoying the atmosphere.”

But inside, my mind was racing.

If wolves were already here, it meant the story’s timeline was moving faster than I thought.

And I was running out of time.

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