C H A P T E R T W E N T Y – T W O
I hope my plan works…
C H A P T E R T W E N T Y – T W O
Olwyn
I slept the best I had in a while.
Enough so that I felt better and able to join in preparing for the ball. The great hall buzzes with activity, a flurry of fabrics and flowers as the staff work tirelessly to prepare for it. I stand to the side, my fingers fidgeting in front of me, watching as the head of the staff, a stern-faced woman named Crista, orchestrates the chaos with a sharp eye and even sharper tongue. She's human, which catches me off guard, given her direct approach in a palace full of vampires.
I’m not sure I like her. Or how she speaks to the staff.
Crista directs the arrangements with brisk efficiency, her voice slicing through any chatter. “No, not like that!” she snaps at a vampire struggling to hang a garland along the wall. “Do you want the entire decoration to come crashing down during the ball? Start again, and this time, get it right.”
The vampire flinches, his hands shaking slightly as he fumbles to correct his mistake. I watch in stunned silence, my mind trying to reconcile what I’m seeing. A human, reprimanding a vampire. And the vampire—the one who could probably snap her in half without a second thought—looks genuinely afraid.
It’s like the world tilts sideways. I can't wrap my head around it. Why would a vampire be scared of a human?
And it’s not a one off. The vampires nod in respect to her, doing her bidding.
Everything I’ve ever known, everything I’ve been taught, tells me that humans are the ones who should be afraid. That we’re weak, fragile things in the existence of their predatory strength. But here, in this palace, the rules are different. They’re all turned upside down.
It’s very confusing… and reminds me of Altair’s words about my parents.
Crista turns to me, her stern gaze still tense. “Are you all right, Your Majesty? You look pale.”
I nod, but my thoughts are far away, grappling with what I’ve just witnessed. “I’m fine,” I say, though my voice lacks conviction. “Just… thinking.”
“Hmm.” Crista doesn’t press further. She moves on, barking orders at another member of the staff, her authority unquestioned. I watch her, the way she commands the room, the way Sera and Thalia don’t approach me around her, and a thought strikes me—a memory, unbidden.
I’m fourteen again, sitting at the heavy wooden table in Avantra’s palace. The room is dim, lit by the soft, wavering glow of an oil lamp. My parents sit across from me, their faces etched with anger and fear. My father’s voice is slurring, as he chugs from a goblet in front of him.
“Do you remember Elderglen, Olwyn?” he asks, leaning forward, his eyes glassy. “The village in the valley?”
I nod slowly, not trusting myself to speak. I’ve heard the name before.
“It was a peaceful village,” he continues, wiping a drop of wine that spills from the corner of his mouth. “Families, children… all living their simple lives. And then the vampires came.”
My heart thuds in my chest, the familiar fear rising like bile in my throat. I’ve heard these stories before, but they never get any easier to listen to.
“They came in the dead of night,” my mother adds, her voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. “They drained every one of them. Not even the children were spared.”
I can see it in my mind’s eye: dark shapes moving silently through the village, fangs gleaming as they feed on the helpless. It’s a vision that fills me with terror, a fear so deep it feels like it’s woven into my bones.
“Elderglen has been left as nothing more than a graveyard,” my mother says, her small fist slamming onto the table, making me jump. “And the vampires? They vanished, leaving nothing but death in their wake.”
I swallow hard, trying to force down the lump in my throat. “Why would they do that?” I ask, my voice small and fearful. It’s a blur, but I still remember a time when I played with vampires. When we went to the academy together.
“Because that’s what they are,” my mother says, gripping my hand tightly. “They’re monsters, Olwyn. They have no mercy, no compassion. They see us as nothing but food.”
That memory, those stories my parents told me, became the foundation of my fear and hatred of vampires, the lens through which I viewed every vampire in this palace from the moment I arrived, no matter what they actually said or did. But now, watching Crista—a human—command a room of vampires, something shifts.
The memory of my parents’ words seems to waver, like smoke caught in a breeze. I see the vampire flinch again under Crista’s sharp rebuke, his intimidation as real as mine was that day at the table.
What if it wasn’t the whole truth? What if my parents only told me what they wanted me to believe? Maybe, just maybe, Altair wasn’t lying when he said there are humans living here, thriving even. Maybe this isn’t a trick. I’ve been so certain that I knew everything about vampires, about their cruelty, their hunger. But now, I’m not so sure.
Could it be that the world isn’t as black and white as I’ve been led to believe? Could it be that, somewhere between the lines of my parents’ stories and Altair’s words, there’s a truth I’ve been too afraid to see?
It doesn’t make sense.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the doubts creeping in. But they’re stubborn, and I can’t quite silence them. Maybe it’s time to stop seeing things solely through the eyes of fear. Maybe it’s time to let Altair challenge what I think I know.
Because if vampires can flinch at a human’s reprimand, then maybe—just maybe—they’re not the monsters I’ve always believed them to be.
***
The evening sky darkens as I make my way back up to my chambers, two royal guards trailing a few steps behind me. Their presence is a constant reminder that this world is still filled with dangers lurking in its shadows. But tonight, I feel a little lighter.
I can’t quite name it, but it’s as if the fear that’s been my constant companion, has shifted just a little. Maybe it’s that flicker of doubt planted in the back of my mind, or maybe it’s the way he looked at me—like he was seeing more than just a captive. Whatever it is, I’m not ready to let it go just yet.
We reach my chambers, and I step forward, expecting to push the door open. But it doesn’t budge. I frown, twisting the handle again, only to find it locked.
“Is there a problem, Your Majesty?” one of the guards–Nikolas—asks, his hand already resting on the hilt of his sword.
“I... I don’t know,” I mutter, confused. “The door's locked.”
Just as I’m about to knock, a member of staff approaches from the stairs, her expression calm and professional. “Your Majesty,” she greets, bowing slightly. “If you’ll follow me, please.”
I blink at her, then back at the locked door. “Why is my room locked?”
The staff member offers a small, almost knowing smile. “King Altair has made arrangements for you to stay in his chambers, right next door. He wanted to ensure your comfort, considering recent events.”
My heart skips a beat, and for a moment, I just stand there, stunned.
Altair... switched our rooms?
The guard opens the door to what used to be his chambers, and the staff member gestures for me to follow her inside. The room is grand and familiar—the same one I slept in last night—but now, something feels different. There's a softness to it, a deliberate effort that shows this isn’t just any room; it's mine now. The bed is freshly made, the sheets crisp and smooth. The faint scent of him still lingers in the air, but this room has been prepared with care. For me.
Altair did this for me .
I hesitate at the threshold, my mind racing. This is more than just a switch of rooms—this is an offering. A gesture that tells me he’s trying, in his own way, to make me feel... safe.
I glance back at the guards who remain just outside the door, giving me privacy, and my throat tightens with emotion. He’s done this to make me feel comfortable, to give me a space that I can claim as my own, away from the nightmares that haunt me in my old chambers.
As I step inside, closing the door softly behind me, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude—an unfamiliar, unsettling feeling when it comes to Altair. But here it is, rising in my chest, making it harder to cling to the walls I’ve built so carefully.
Maybe... maybe he’s not the monster I’ve always believed him to be.