VERA’S POV

The man entered the council chamber like a whisper of winter wind, silent, cold, inevitable.

His jacket was cut in the Nightfall style, dark as a storm cloud, sharp at the edges, silver accents catching the candlelight. Not a single button out of place, not a seam unstitched.

Wind had tousled his dark hair. His eyes, though, those were untouched by weather or time. Pale grey, like steel left out in the snow, steady and sharp as they landed on mine.

I froze.

My heartbeat, traitorous and loud, pounded in my ears. My fingers curled around the hem of my gown.

Standing there before me, he bowed slightly toward the King as if this were all routine.

“Your Majesty,” he said, voice cool as a blade.

A stir swept through the chamber. Soft murmurs, shifting robes, furrowed brows.

King Aldric stepped forward, his expression unreadable but voice firm. “Council members,” he said, “meet Caelen Rhys, future Lord of House Nightfall. Neutral by oath. Trusted by blood. And now, advisor to the Crown.”

A pause.

Then, quieter, almost as if it was meant only for me, “Advisor to you.”

His eyes were already on me when I turned.

He stood tall, shoulders relaxed but alert. Not deferent, not arrogant. Just… prepared.

“Princess,” Caelen said, his voice carrying a calm professionalism I wasn’t used to hearing, “I look forward to our work together.”

I stared at him, but no words came. My tongue felt thick, my throat suddenly parched. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

They had all planned this.

The memory of pain, of power building and failing, hit me like a punch to the ribs. The failed awakening hadn’t been some fevered nightmare, it was real. It was orchestrated. This council session was nothing more than a curtain over the truth. A show.

A test.

“You knew?” I managed, my voice scratchy and low.

“I was summoned this morning,” Caelen replied evenly. “Though I should’ve guessed it earlier.”

He said it without guilt, without apology. Like it made perfect sense to him, to be pulled in, slotted into this scheme.

I turned sharply toward King Aldric. “You’re serious?”

His expression didn’t shift. “Deadly.”

The word hung in the air, cold and solid.

“He’ll challenge you,” the King continued, tone clipped. “Sharpen you. Frustrate you. But he’ll teach you how to control your power.”

I barely heard the last sentence.

“Control my power?” I asked. “I don’t even know what my power is supposed to be.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Councilor Aldric interjected. “You have the blood of the First Vampire running through your veins, but you fight it instead of embracing it as a gift.”

“Maybe because no one told me what I am until yesterday,” I snapped back.

Caelen took a step forward, addressing the council now with a measured gaze that flicked from face to face. “The Princess,” he said, “has more raw power than most of you put together.”

A few of the older members stiffened at that.

“She only needs to learn how to channel it.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. There was conviction behind it. Not flattery, not pity. Just the truth, as he saw it.

“And how exactly do you propose to do that?” Lady Meran asked, her voice sharp with skepticism.

“Through blood combat,” Caelen replied simply. “The Princess needs to learn to fight with her vampire nature, not against it.”

“Blood combat?” I repeated. “What is that?”

“The art of using your blood as a weapon,” he explained, his grey eyes boring into mine. “Something every royal should master.”

“I saw Celene do something like that,” I said, remembering the blood weapons she’d conjured. “But I don’t know how.”

“Because you’re still thinking like a human,” Caelen said bluntly. “You need to start thinking like what you are—a vampire princess with power beyond anything this court has seen in centuries.”

I blinked, forcing myself to breathe.

When his eyes found mine again, there was no warmth. Just that quiet intensity. A challenge. A question.

“Ready to get uncomfortable?” he asked, the words low enough that only I could hear.

For a heartbeat, I said nothing. My mind screamed at me to walk away, to shove him off the dais, to curse the King, the council—him. But my spine straightened, and I looked him square in the eye.

“Bring it on,” I said.

Caelen’s lips twitched at the edges, almost a smile, but not quite.

The chamber was still, as they watched and waited.

Caelen drew a silver blade from his side and tossed it toward me. The blade landed at my feet with a cold clang against the marble floor, as though daring me to pick it up. His expression remained unreadable, calm in that infuriating way of his.

“Cut yourself,” he said simply.

The council stirred behind me. I could feel their eyes, their skepticism, their hunger for something to sneer at. My father said nothing, but his gaze was heavy.

“What?” I asked.

“Cut yourself,” he repeated. “Draw blood. Learn to use it as a weapon.”

“I don’t know how,” I protested.

“Then you’ll learn,” he said. “Cut your palm. Let the blood flow. Then try to control it.”

I snatched the blade from the ground and hesitated. The silver felt cold against my skin, foreign and dangerous.

“I don’t—”

“Stop thinking,” Caelen interrupted. “Just do it.”

I drew the blade across my palm, wincing as it bit deep. Blood welled up, darker than human blood, with that strange shimmer that marked it as royal.

“Now,” Caelen said, “make it move.”

I stared at the blood pooling in my palm. “How?”

“Will it to move. It’s part of you. It should obey you.”

I focused, trying to remember how Celene had made her blood writhe through the air. But nothing happened. The blood just sat there, ordinary and useless.

“I can’t,” I said, frustration creeping into my voice.

“You’re not trying hard enough,” Caelen said, his voice sharp. “You’re still fighting your nature. Stop being human and start being vampire.”

“I don’t know how to stop being human!” I snapped.

“Then maybe you’re not ready to be a princess,” he replied coldly.

The words hit me like a physical blow. Heat bloomed in my face.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me,” he said, moving closer. “Maybe you’re not ready for this. Maybe you’re too weak, too human, too ordinary to handle the power of the First Vampire.”

Something inside me snapped. Rage flowed through my veins, hot and dangerous, and suddenly the blood in my palm began to move. It rose from my skin like a living thing, forming shapes in the air, tentacles, spears, whips.

“There,” Caelen said, satisfaction in his voice. “Now you’re getting it.”

But I wasn’t in control. The blood weapons lashed out wildly, striking the walls, the floor, the council members’ chairs. One tendril wrapped around Caelen’s arm, but he didn’t flinch.

“Control it,” he commanded. “You’re the master, not the slave.”

“I’m trying!” I shouted, but the blood continued to writhe chaotically.

“No, you’re not,” he said. “You’re letting your emotions control you. Focus. Breathe. Remember that this power comes from you. It obeys you.”

I forced myself to take a deep breath, to center myself. Gradually, the blood weapons began to slow, to respond to my will instead of my rage.

“Better,” Caelen said. “But still sloppy. You have a lot to learn.”

The blood settled back into my palm, and I felt suddenly drained. Using vampire power was exhausting in a way I hadn’t expected.

“This is just the beginning,” he continued. “Tomorrow, we’ll work on precision. Speed. Lethality.”

“Lethality?” I asked.

“You’re going to be queen someday,” he said. “Queens need to know how to kill their enemies.”

The casual way he said it made my blood run cold.

He turned from me without another glance and started toward the exit. The weight of his judgment still hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

“Meet me in the training chambers. Dawn,” he called over his shoulder.

“Wait,” I called out. “What about—”

But he was already gone.