Chapter 4

The next morning started like any other.

By “like any other,” I mean I woke up tangled in my ridiculously overstuffed vampire princess bed, stared at the canopy for a solid five minutes while remembering that I died in my last life, and then had an internal debate about whether I was truly ready to face whatever fresh supernatural nonsense awaited me.

Spoiler: I wasn’t.

But hunger—or in this case, a craving for the castle’s suspiciously delicious honey bread—won over dread.

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I wandered into the main hall, still slightly bleary-eyed but dressed in a pale lavender gown that had so many ruffles it could double as a pastry. The corridors were quieter than usual, though a strange tension seemed to hum in the air. Guards were stationed at every archway, their postures tighter, their eyes sharper.

Which could only mean one thing: VIP visitors.

And not just any visitors. The kind you either impress… or offend so badly that wars happen.

Sure enough, as I reached the main hall, the big double doors swung open to reveal them.

Three men strode inside, and I didn’t need an “In Case You Missed It: They’re Werewolves” sign to figure out what they were.

They moved like predators—quiet, fluid, and with that unmistakable confidence of creatures who knew they could crush you without even trying. Broad shoulders. Sun-browned skin. Eyes that gleamed with something untamed.

The one in the middle was the tallest, with black hair that brushed his jaw and eyes the color of molten amber. He didn’t just walk—he prowled.

If Lucien was a candle flame—controlled, mesmerizing—this man was wildfire.

I knew without being told.

Kael.

My father, the ever-so-dramatic vampire lord, rose from his chair on the dais. “Alpha Kael,” he said smoothly. “Welcome to my court.”

Kael inclined his head in a gesture that was polite… but only just. “Lord Veyren.”

There was a moment of silence so thick you could slice it with a ceremonial dagger.

I tried to stay in the background. Really, I did. But my ability to blend into shadows was somewhere between “mediocre” and “nonexistent.”

Kael’s gaze found me almost immediately. And when it did, it was like being pinned in place by something sharp and hot all at once.

“And this,” my father said, gesturing to me, “is my daughter, Astrid.”

Oh. Cool. Let’s just throw me into the pit.

Kael’s amber eyes flicked over me, assessing. His expression didn’t change, but I got the distinct impression that he was cataloguing every weakness, every twitch, every nervous inhale.

I smiled. “Hi. Welcome. I hope you enjoy your stay and don’t… uh… rip anyone’s throat out. That would be awkward.”

The room went so silent you could hear a bat blink.

Kael’s brows rose. One of the other werewolves—clearly his second—let out a short huff of laughter.

Lucien, who had been standing by the far wall like some sort of broody guardian statue, straightened just slightly. His golden eyes met mine for a fraction of a second, and in them I read: Did you really just say that?

Yes. Yes, I did. And now I was mentally digging my own grave.

To my surprise, Kael didn’t look offended. In fact… the corner of his mouth curved upward, the faintest shadow of a grin.

“I’ll try to restrain myself,” he said, voice deep and smooth, but with a rasp that made it sound like it had been dragged over gravel. “Though I make no promises.”

I laughed nervously. “Good enough for me.”

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We moved to the grand dining table, where politics disguised itself as polite conversation. Kael and my father discussed “territorial agreements” and “border security,” which I gathered was just a fancy way of saying we’re deciding where we can walk without killing each other.

Lucien sat diagonally across from me, his gaze flicking between Kael and me more than once. Not that I noticed. Okay, fine—I noticed a lot. There was a tension there I couldn’t quite name.

Kael, meanwhile, had this infuriating way of leaning back in his chair like he owned the place, his long fingers drumming idly on the armrest while his eyes occasionally found mine. It wasn’t a soft gaze—it was challenging. Like he was daring me to speak up again.

I, being me, took the dare.

“So, Alpha Kael,” I said brightly, “do you… um… turn into a wolf on full moons or whenever you feel like it?”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. My father went still.

Kael’s grin widened, slow and wolfish. “Whenever I feel like it.”

“Oh,” I said. “Convenient. Saves you from having to schedule your hunting trips.”

Someone choked on their drink.

The rest of the meal went by in a strange mix of amusement (Kael clearly found my ignorance entertaining), irritation (Lucien clearly did not), and the subtle tension of politics (my father clearly wished I’d stop talking).

By the time we rose from the table, I was half-convinced I’d accidentally made a friend and an enemy at the same time.

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It wasn’t until later that evening, when I was walking through one of the side corridors, that I realized I wasn’t alone.

The air shifted—warmer, heavier—and then Kael stepped out from an alcove, blocking my path.

“Lady Astrid,” he said, voice like low thunder. “You speak boldly for someone so… delicate.”

I crossed my arms. “Delicate? I’ll have you know I’ve survived death, reincarnation, and at least two lectures on vampire table manners. I’m basically indestructible.”

He chuckled. It was a deep, genuine sound that rolled through me in a way I did not appreciate. “You’re amusing. I can see why the prince watches you.”

That caught me off guard. “The prince?”

“Lucien,” Kael said simply. “Golden eyes. Cold smile. Always calculating.”

I frowned. “He’s not cold.”

Kael tilted his head, studying me. “Careful, little vampire. The court is a dangerous place. And you…” His gaze swept over me. “…are far too bright for shadows like this.”

With that, he stepped past me, his presence fading like smoke.

I stood there for a long moment, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Between Lucien’s guarded intensity and Kael’s wild, untamed danger, I had a sinking feeling my new life was about to get a lot more complicated.

And maybe—just maybe—I didn’t mind.

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