The First Day in the Sanctum

The two guards marched me through towering black doors etched with silver sigils and into the private wing of the Obsidian Citadel.

Heavy drapes shut out the daylight. Iron sconces threw shaky shadows along the stone corridor, and the air smelled of old smoke and cold stone. Tall doorways lined both sides of the hall. Behind them lay the studies, sitting rooms, and bedchambers of the six Vampire Kings.

"Where are you taking me?" My voice came out as a whisper.

"To your workplace," the guard said, and shoved me forward.

They stopped outside a wide sitting room. A woman in a high-collared dress stood waiting with her arms crossed. This was Martha, the head servant.

"This is Lyra," the guard said. "His Majesty ordered her to serve in the inner sanctum."

Martha's sharp eyes slid over my heavy frame and my rough slave tunic. She clicked her tongue, unimpressed.

"Listen carefully, wolf. You will clean the sitting rooms, arrange the studies, and help serve meals. When any king summons you, you come at once."

"Yes, ma'am." I held my head up.

"You will not enter their private chambers without permission. You will not touch their belongings. If a king gives you an order, you obey without complaint. Do you understand?"

"Understood."

"Good. Dust and wipe down this room. You have thirty minutes."

She walked away, and I picked up the damp cloth and started working. Without my wolf, my body felt heavy and slow. Every muscle ached, but I kept moving. Stopping would give me time to think, and I could not afford that.

I had just finished the black glass table when a shadow fell across it.

"You missed a spot," a sharp voice drawled.

Cassian stood behind me with his arms folded, glaring at the table. Near the far edge, I found one tiny speck of dust.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

"Clean it properly. We do not tolerate laziness here."

I wiped the table again. My hand did not shake. I would not let it.

Cassian dropped a thick stack of leather-bound documents on the edge of the desk. "Put these in order by date. Mix them up, and you will redo the whole library."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

He walked into his private study, and I followed with the heavy stack and set it down on his dark oak desk. I traced the dates stamped in gold along each page and checked every seal. One by one, I sorted them until the edges lined up.

When Cassian came back, he ran a critical eye over the pile. "Acceptable," he muttered.

"Thank you, Your Majesty."

He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. "Do not mistake a basic task done right for earning my respect, slave."

"I won't," I said calmly, and looked him straight in the eye.

He stared at me, as if he expected me to flinch. I didn't. After a long moment, he waved a hand and turned back to his desk. "Get back to work."

My next task took me to the grand hall, where Malachi was pacing near the iron-bound doors like a caged predator. His jaw was clenched tight.

"You," he snapped the moment he saw me. "Take that trunk to my quarters."

The trunk sat against the wall, heavy and wrapped in iron. I gripped the cold handles and pulled. It barely moved. I bent my knees, shifted my grip, and tried again. Back home, a trunk like this would have been nothing to my wolf's strength. Now it felt like dragging a boulder.

Malachi watched with a smirk. "Too heavy for a stray?"

"No, Your Majesty." I gritted my teeth and heaved it off the floor.

"Then stop wasting my time and move."

I carried it down the long corridor. The iron handles dug into my palms, my shoulders burned, and my breath came in ragged gasps. I would not put it down. When we reached his doors, Malachi took the trunk from me with one hand, as if it weighed nothing.

"Next time, move faster."

"I will do my best, Your Majesty."

"Your best is barely adequate." He slammed the door in my face.

I stood alone in the silent hall and tried to steady my shaking hands. The iron collar felt tight around my throat. My father had sold me. Brandon had rejected me. Chloe had betrayed me. Now six immortal kings held my life in their hands.

I wiped my palms on my tunic and squared my shoulders. They could give me cruel tasks and mock my strength. They would not break me.

By late afternoon, I was setting silver goblets along the long dining table when Dorian strolled in. He leaned against a black pillar and watched me with a thin, mocking smile.

"So you're the rejected wolf from Blackpine Pack," he said, his voice smooth and cruel.

My fingers tightened around the goblet. "Yes, Your Majesty."

"I heard your mate rejected you in front of the whole pack." He took a slow step toward the table. "Half naked, I'm told. Quite a fall."

The words cut deep. For a moment, I was back on that marble floor with the laughter ringing in my ears. I set the goblet in its place beside the plate and kept my voice even.

"I am here to do my duties, Your Majesty. I would rather focus on them."

His smile slipped. He searched my face for tears, or for any crack to pry open. He found nothing, and he shrugged.

"Then focus."

I went back to the silverware and said nothing more. When I picked up the empty tray and headed for the kitchens, two whispers drifted around the corner. They came from low-ranking servants.

"That's the girl her own father sold."

"Look at her," the other sneered. "A bloated stray. I wonder how many days she'll last before the Kings throw her to the hounds."

I kept my eyes forward and walked past them without slowing. Their words stung, but I would not let strangers watch me bleed. I had already cried my last tears for Blackpine Pack.

That evening, Martha ordered me to serve dinner in the royal dining room.

All six Vampire Kings sat around the massive black table. Valerius took the head, his face as hard as stone. Cassian sat at his right. Malachi and Dorian sat across from each other. Julian read a parchment in a seat near the arched window, and Gideon stood by the oak doors like a silent guard.

I moved around the table and served each dish without a sound. When I set Valerius's plate in front of him, his dark crimson eyes met mine.

"Have you finished your tasks for the day?"

His voice was deep and calm. It carried the kind of command that never needed to be raised.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Good."

I stepped back against the wall and stood at attention.

For a while, the only sound was the scrape of knives on plates. Then Malachi put down his fork with a loud clatter.

"I still don't understand why we keep her in the royal wing."

Cassian grunted. "Neither do I. She is untrained and useless."

"We have dozens of high-born blood servants," Malachi said, glaring across the table. "Why let a common, rejected shifter into our private sanctuary? The court will think we have lost our standards."

Dorian leaned back and crossed his arms. "Perhaps the mines were too harsh for her."

I stared at the floor. My jaw ached from clenching it.

Valerius set down his goblet. The room seemed to grow colder. "Enough."

Malachi did not back down at once. "She is entirely unsuited for this house, and—"

"That is for me to decide." Valerius's voice dropped, low and icy. "She stays. Her duties will be carried out as ordered, and I will not hear another word on this. Is that clear?"

Nobody spoke. Malachi and Cassian looked away.

I stepped forward to clear the plates and reached for Malachi's silver goblet. As I pulled it back, he moved his elbow and struck my wrist hard.

The goblet slipped from my fingers.

I caught it without thinking, a hand's width above the stone floor. One drop of water splashed on my knuckles.

Malachi's eyes narrowed. I had denied him a scene, and he knew it. "Watch your step, slave."

"Yes, Your Majesty." I set the goblet on my tray.

I turned to leave, and Valerius's voice stopped me.

"Lyra."

I faced him. "Your Majesty?"

"Your duties begin an hour earlier tomorrow." His crimson gaze held mine. "A major court gathering is coming at the end of the week. You will be presented to the entire vampire nobility as our personal slave. Prepare yourself. The court will not be as lenient as we are."

Cold dread sank into my stomach. I thought of the whispers in the corridor, and of how many more eyes would be on me.

I held my head high, straightened my tunic, and bowed.

"Understood, Your Majesty."