#8: Nyra

Aria knocked before entering this time.

I appreciated the courtesy, even if the door still unlocked from the outside and not from my end. Progress came in strange forms.

“Come in,” I called, propped against the headboard with my legs stretched out, absently flexing my fingers as I tested how much strength had crept back into them. The shadows responded faintly now. Not enough to fight with, but enough to let me know they hadn’t abandoned me completely.

That was comforting. In a bleak, possibly-delusional way.

Aria slipped inside with another tray of food balanced carefully in her hands. Soup again, thicker this time. Bread. A small bowl of berries that smelled tart and wild. She set it down and glanced at me, her eyes lingering just long enough to notice that I was more upright today than yesterday.

“You look better,” she said.

“Don’t let it fool you,” I replied. “I can still barely kill anyone.”

Her lips twitched despite herself. “That’s… good, I think.”

“For you, definitely.”

She laughed softly and pulled the chair closer, sitting instead of hovering like she had last time, indicating she was beginning to get comfortable with me.

I picked up the bowl and took a careful sip, letting the warmth settle in my chest.

When I’d cleared half my plate, I leaned back and studied her. She was pouring tea, movements careful, eyes lowered. No fear in her posture, which was rare enough to notice.

“You’re not like the others,” I said. “The guards look at me like I’m plague incarnate. Even the ones who brought me up here couldn’t hide it. But you? You bring me food, bandage my wounds, sit and eat with me. Why don’t you hate me?”

Aria set the teapot down and met my gaze steadily.

“They don’t hate you,” she said after a moment.

I glanced up. “That’s not what their faces say.”

“They fear you.”

I hummed thoughtfully. “I guess that makes more sense.”

She studied me for a long moment, then sighed, fingers twisting in her apron. “My grandmother served in the Great War as a healer’s assistant. She told me stories when I was little about how the vampires began the great war when they realized they became stronger than the wolves at night.”

I kept my expression neutral, though something inside me tightened. I’d heard fragments. Whispers. Never the full story.

“But wolves adapt quickly,” she continued. “Packs learned their patterns, weaknesses, flaws. The war dragged on longer than anyone expected and eventually, it started turning in favour of the wolves.”

I set the bowl aside, giving her my full attention now.

“Until my kind came along...” I said lightly.

Her eyes flicked to mine. “It’s not your fault.”

“I never said it was,” I replied.

Aria exhaled slowly. “They discovered that hybrid blood weakened wolves. Not just slowed them down, it also poisoned them, slowly.... painfully... and so they laced their weapons with it,” she said quietly. “Blades. Arrows. Even bombs. A single cut could bring down a full-grown wolf.”

The room felt colder.

“Whole packs were wiped out,” Aria continued. “And not in battle as it should’ve been, just from a few poisoned arrows loosed in the dark. When the treaty finally came, the wolves demanded one thing above all...”

I already knew what she was going to say.

“All hybrids were to be eliminated,” she finished. “So their blood could never be used against the wolves again.”

I let out a slow breath.

“Insurance,” she said.

“Genocide,” I corrected.

She flinched. “It was seen as a necessary evil.”

“Of course it was.”

After a brief moment of silence, she continued, “So you see, it isn’t hate, miss. They’re afraid that if you live, someone will try it again. That the war will start over a single vial of your blood.”

She reached out, hesitated, then pulled her hand back. “You’re the last.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Her voice dropped. “They were thorough.”

I smiled thinly. “They always are.”

We sat in silence for a few moments. Then I cleared my throat and deliberately lightened my tone. “Well. That explains the warm hospitality.”

She gave a weak smile in return. “You don’t act how they expect.”

“How do they expect me to act?”

“Angry,” she said. “Bitter. Violent. You know... a monster.”

“And instead I’m charming,” I finished.

She huffed a laugh. “And that makes them uneasy too.”

“Good.” I pushed my plate away, appetite gone. “And you? You’re not afraid?”

“I’m only a maid,” she said with a faint shrug. “I’ve never held a sword. Never lost kin to poisoned steel. Fear feels… distant. And you’ve been nothing but polite to me.”

I huffed a laugh. “I’ve been in a good mood.”

Aria tilted her head. “Besides, the Alpha moved you here. That means something.”

“It means he’s stubborn and stupid,” I muttered.

“Or that the bond is real,” she said softly.

I froze.

She saw it and hurried on. “Servants talk. Some heard his wolf claim you in the courtyard and the word spread. But not to worry, only a few know. Besides, the Alpha has never even looked at a female twice. And now…” She gestured at the wall separating my room from his.

I rubbed my temples. “Don’t remind me.”

We fell quiet again. The tea was good – black and strong with a hint of bergamot. I drank half the cup before speaking.

“Tell me about Prince Adrian.” Her smile vanished instantly. “That bad, huh?”

“He’s worse,” she said, echoing Lucien’s words so closely that my spine prickled.

“Funny,” I murmured. “Your Alpha said the exact same thing.”

She glanced toward the wall, lowering her voice. “He would.”

“So,” I pressed, “start talking.”

“Prince Adrian is the Vampire King’s only son. Took the throne young. Too young, some say.”

“How young?”

“Barely past a century. His mother died birthing him. Complications, they claimed. But whispers say the birth was… unnatural. That he clawed his way out.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Vampires don’t claw.”

“Some say he did.” She shivered. “After that, his father ruled another fifty years. Then one dawn, the king was found in his chambers, staked through the heart with his own ceremonial dagger. No scent but Adrian’s in the room. No struggle. The council crowned him that same night.”

“Convenient.”

“Very.” Aria’s fingers tightened on her cup. “He’s beautiful, they say. Golden hair, smile like summer. Charms everyone. Lords, ladies, humans. But underneath… he’s a snake. Gets what he wants by talking, not fighting. Makes you think it was your idea all along. Then when you realize you’ve been played, it’s too late.”

“Sounds like quite a man,” I said slowly, “And now, he’s coming here.”

Her eyes lifted to mine. “Yes.”

Lyr stirred at that. A low, restless hum beneath my skin. Anticipation. Hunger. Something feral that didn’t feel entirely mine.

I smiled despite myself.

She studied me carefully. “That doesn’t scare you.”

“Well, to be fair, not much scares me,” I admitted. “But this... this excites me.”

Something dark flickered behind my eyes and I didn’t bother hiding it. My hybrid side stretched, woke, drawn to the promise of chaos like a moth to flame.

Aria noticed. Her breath caught. “You shouldn’t want that.”

I shrugged.

“Wanting has nothing to do with it,” I said softly. “Some of us are made for storms.”

The knock on the door was sharp this time.

Aria startled to her feet, smoothing her apron. “I should go.”

“Thanks for the stories,” I said. “They’ll keep me entertained.”

She paused at the door, glancing back. “Be careful, Nyra.”

I tilted my head. “With who?”

She hesitated, then answered honestly. “Everyone.”

The door closed behind her and I lay back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling, Lyr pacing now, restless and alert.

Somewhere out there, wolves prepared for a royal visit they didn’t want. Elders plotted. Lucien fought for control of his pack.

And on the horizon, a golden prince rode with smiles and hidden knives.

My pulse quickened in anticipation, and the hybrid in me stretched, waking fully for the first time since the courtyard.

Chaos was coming and I couldn’t wait to meet it.