"Milady? Are you alright?" The butler's voice was low and filled with concern. He had found the young mistress trembling in the long, dark corridor.
A deep crease appeared on his forehead as he reached her. He was a middle-aged man who had worked for the Valeharts for decades, and he looked at Liora with the eyes of a worried relative.
Liora quickly stood up, wiping her face and smoothing her hair. She forced a small smile, but it was hollow. "I've never been better," she said, her voice shaking just a little bit as she tried to act normal.
The butler watched her closely. He wasn't fooled. He had seen her grow up, and he knew that a girl with a timestamp on her life had no reason to smile. "If you say so, milady. I'll make sure all your things are packed before the sun comes up tomorrow," he muttered. He looked at her messy hair and sighed. "Take care of yourself, Liora." His voice sounded broken as he turned and walked away.
Liora sniffed, trying to keep the rest of her tears down. These people were her family, and she was about to lose every single one of them. It only made her heart clenched.
In Valoria, the power was split. There was the royal family—the King, the Queen, and the Crown Prince. Then there were the five dukes. Three of them were humans, and the Valehart family was one of the most powerful. But even that power meant nothing now.
She finally reached her room and stepped inside, shutting the door with a soft thud. She leaned her head back against the wood and breathed out a long sigh of relief, her eyes perched on the ceiling as her thoughts jumbled up.
The mansion was gigantic and familiar, but tonight, it felt cold and empty. She couldn't wrap her head around the fact that after tomorrow, she wouldn't be coming back.
Liora had tried to hide her fear. She had accepted the role of sacrificial bride for the "greater good," but she hadn't really been given a choice. She was twenty-one, almost twenty-two. Most women her age were already married or had dozens of suitors lined up at their humble homes.
But Liora had only wanted one thing. To experience true love. Now, she would never get the chance.
She then walked across the room when a sudden gust of wind swept through the open window, tossing the white silk curtains and blowing her ginger hair into her eyes. She moved to shut the window, but as she looked down at the courtyard, she saw Victoria talking to her parents. Victoria was smiling—a bright, fake smile that made Liora's stomach turn.
Liora looked away, but her feet came to a drastic stop. She wasn't alone.
Sitting in her study chair was a figure. A man with eyes as red as fresh blood, glowing faintly in the dim light of the room. Liora flinched, almost screaming as she realized who it was. She thought, perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her. Until the figure moved. He stood up, ambling towards her. He moved like a ghost, silent and deadly.
Liora swallowed hard, a cold dread filling her veins. What was he doing here? He wasn't supposed to be at the party. The headmaid had said so.
Rowan O'Carmichael. The Crown Prince of Valoria. The man who had married and lost a hundreds of brides before her.
Liora's grip on her dress tightened until her polished fingers hurt. Why was he in her bedroom? Did he want to kill her now and get it over with? The look in his eyes was cold, reflecting the hatred they had shared since the stable incident. Or perhaps there were more?
He stopped right in front of her, towering over her even though she was tall for a woman. His soulless empty eyes staring into hers, cold and emotionless.
Liora's eyes fell on the book he was holding. It was her latest work—a book she was writing about the nature of humans and vampires.
"Do you think you've won?" he asked. His voice was barely a whisper, but it was smooth and imposing. He shut the book with a snap that sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room.
Suddenly, the window latch clicked open on its own and the wind rushed in again. The glass panes hit the wall with a loud smack, shattering into pieces. Screams from below filled the air but Liora couldn't move her legs. It was as though a physical weight was pressing down on her, pinning her feet to the floor.
The wind rushed into the room, scattering her hair in every direction. She had heard stories about his powers—that he was even more powerful than his father. She had never thought he could be this terrifying.
He placed the book on the windowsill, his long red coat trailing behind him like a river of blood. "If anyone is going to end you, Liora Valehart, it will be me," he whispered. His voice was calm, but the coldness in his words bit into her bones.
Would he be the one to end her? Was he the same person she was being married off to? Fear was an understatement for how death stricken she looked.
"You look frightened," he added, pausing to look at her. "Good."
Liora shook like dry leaf. Her skin ghastly pale. His words sank into her chest, and the reality of her situation finally hit her. She wasn't just a bride; she was his prey. He looked at her trembling hands for a moment longer than necessary.
"How disappointing," he murmured.
And then, he was gone. He vanished right before her eyes, as if the wind had carried him away without trace.
Liora stood there in the dark, surrounded by some shards of broken glass and the smell of the evening air. She had never believed in the supernatural, but the crown prince had just reminded her that her life was no longer her own.