Chapter 15

By the time I returned to the prince’s quarters the following morning, I had already decided to keep my hands to myself.

The pocket watch had taught me that lesson well enough.

I spent the first part of the morning cleaning the study, dusting the shelves and carefully working around the books Vladimir had left on his desk. He wasn’t there, which made the work easier. I didn’t have to worry about him watching me or making one of his irritating comments whenever I made a mistake.

I was finishing the last shelf when a guard appeared at the door.

“You. Come with me.”

I turned, cloth still in hand. “Where?”

“The receiving room. Guests are arriving, and you’ll be serving them.”

I put the cloth away and followed him.

We took a different route from the one I had used the previous day, passing through a long corridor lined with dark paintings and narrow windows. The farther we went, the more elaborate the castle became. Carved pillars stood on either side of a grand staircase, and silver lamps hung from the ceiling, illuminating the polished floor beneath our feet.

The receiving room was even larger than I expected.

A long table stood near the windows, surrounded by high-backed chairs. A fire burned in a wide stone fireplace, and several servants were already arranging goblets and plates. Everything had been prepared for the guests, from the folded napkins to the silver trays holding food I couldn’t identify.

A woman with grey hair stood near the table, directing the servants.

“You’ll stand with the others by the door,” she instructed me. “When the guests arrive, you will serve whatever they request. Keep your eyes down, your mouth shut, and your hands steady.”

I nodded.

She looked at me a little longer than necessary before turning away.

I joined three other human servants beside the entrance. None of them spoke to me. They stood with their hands clasped in front of them, their expressions blank, as if they had learned that the safest way to survive in this castle was to become invisible.

I was beginning to understand why.

The doors opened a few minutes later.

Several vampires entered, dressed in expensive clothes that made the servants’ plain uniforms look even worse. Their conversations filled the room as they greeted one another and took their seats.

Then Vladimir walked in.

He wore a black suit with a dark shirt beneath it, his golden eyes moving briefly across the room before settling on the guests. He didn’t look surprised to see any of them. If anything, he seemed impatient, as though the meeting had interrupted something more important.

A woman entered behind the others.

She was dressed in a deep burgundy gown, with her dark hair arranged neatly at the back of her head. A necklace of red stones rested against her throat, and the rings on her fingers caught the light whenever she moved her hands.

She carried herself with the confidence of someone who expected every room to make space for her.

“Your Highness,” she greeted Vladimir with a slight bow of her head.

“Lady Margaret.”

Her smile widened. “It’s been too long.”

“Has it?”

A few of the guests chuckled.

Lady Margaret laughed with them and took her seat.

I kept my eyes lowered, reminding myself why I was there. I wasn’t a guest, and nobody had invited me to listen to their conversation. I was there to serve them, nothing more.

The first round of drinks was brought in shortly afterward. I took a silver tray from the side table and moved between the guests, filling their goblets as requested. Some barely acknowledged me. Others watched me with the casual interest people gave an object they had never seen before.

I was setting a goblet beside a man wearing a dark green coat when the conversation turned to the hunting games.

“The last season was entertaining,” one of the guests remarked, swirling his drink. “But I think we’ve grown too comfortable with the current arrangements.”

Another vampire leaned back in his chair. “The contestants have become predictable. They run, hide, and hope to survive until the end. Where is the excitement in that?”

A few people laughed.

I kept my face still as I moved toward the next chair.

“We should change the rules for the coming season,” the man continued. “Make the hunting grounds more dangerous. Fewer places to hide. More obstacles. Let the hunters have greater freedom.”

“Greater freedom?” someone asked. “You mean fewer restrictions on how they deal with their prey?”

“Precisely.”

My fingers tightened around the tray.

I remembered the girl dragged from the cave, her blood covering the red-clad hunter’s hands. I remembered the sound she had made before he killed her, and Debby’s face when we realised what had happened.

Those games were already brutal.

What more did these people want?

“The real problem,” another guest said, “is that some contestants still manage to survive. It takes away from the spectacle when the prey escapes.”

“Then perhaps we should stop allowing them to escape.”

The room grew quiet for a moment.

I stood near the door, my heart beginning to pound.

Lady Margaret lifted her goblet. “I agree. The next season should have a clear outcome. No survivors. Every contestant who loses should pay for it properly.”

A man beside her smiled. “A painful death would certainly discourage anyone from entering the games without understanding what awaits them.”

“Painful and entertaining,” someone added.

More laughter followed.

I felt sick.

They were discussing human lives as though they were deciding what to serve at a dinner party.

I looked toward Vladimir.

He sat at the head of the table, one arm resting on the chair, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t joined the laughter, but he hadn’t objected either.

Surely he would say something.

He had participated in the games himself. He knew what happened in those forests. He had seen the fear in the contestants’ eyes, and he knew what it meant to be hunted.

He knew what had happened to me.

I waited for him to remind them that the contestants were human beings.

Instead, his golden eyes shifted toward the doorway.

Toward me.

My breath caught.

For a second, our eyes met. I couldn’t read his expression, and he offered no explanation for looking at me.

Then he turned back to the guests.“Give the people what they want.”