Showing up late was the cherry on top of her already disastrous day. If "making a grand, negative entrance" was the new definition of success, then she was winning.
Not only had Queen Thin Eyebrows given her the wrong dress code, but she’d also managed to ss up the timing for the morning ritual.
Was this a prank, or was she trying to get Riona a starring role in the Pack’s Cody Hour?
Did she want to be in the spotlight so bad?
As a vampire who had been stirring up trouble for as long as she rembered, blending in with werewolves was hardly going to be a cakewalk.
Talk about making a fashion statent with a twist.
The crowd’s reaction was as predictable as it was brutal.
So gasped in horror, while others laughed openly (because of course, the Queen Thin Eyebrows must enjoy the show she personally directed).
The kids were the worst, asking their parents if she was today’s sacrificial offering.
At first, Riona had been relieved to learn that she must wear white, which could deflect sunlight—a great choice for a vampire who was not looking to be barbequed during prayers.
She carefully draped a white hood over her head, determined to make it through the ritual. She figured participating in the community’s sacred event with a bit of grace—or at least a semblance of it—was the least she could do.
But this happened. And make matters worse, every pack mber was decked out in formal attire—perfectly coordinated and elegant, while she looked like the sacrificial ghost of fashion week.
She shot daggers at Queen Thin Eyebrows, who was giggling like she’d just pulled off the prank of the century.
anwhile, Thorin’s not-so-subtle fangirl looked genuinely shocked, probably because she hadn’t received the exclusive mo from Queen Thin Eyebrows about shunning Wintertooth’s only conscious vampire.
"Oh, great!" Riona muttered, finally connecting the dots. How had it taken her this long to catch on? This was her specialty! It was glaringly obvious.
I’m being bullied, she thought with a sigh.
Honestly, though? It didn’t faze her much. Being hated was practically her natural state—aside from Florian, of course. She could spot hate a mile away, and the hungry stares from the werewolves confird it:
Yep, they couldn’t stand her.
***
King Valentin sat motionless. His gaze was fixed on the stack of paperwork cluttering his desk. The quill in his hand remained idle as his mind drifted far from the docunts before him.
Was he reflecting on the fate of his kingdom? The delicate balance of power? Nah. He wasn’t even pretending to read the docunts.
"Your Majesty," Margrave Boris announced cautiously, "Elder Alfred has secured a private audience with the Emperor."
The king didn’t react. He had anticipated this developnt. Ever since word reached him of Elder Alfred’s efforts to dethrone him, Valentin had remained sharply attuned to every ripple in the political waters.
With only three votes from the high nobility left to seal the petition for King Valentin’s abdication, Elder Alfred must have been on edge.
Yet, he had exhausted all possibilities within the elders’ ranks; his supporters had already pledged their signatures. And there weren’t many high nobles left to coerce or entice.
It would take too much effort, money, and energy to utilize lower-ranked nobles. So, he only had one solution—a shortcut.
Rallying lower-ranked nobles would be an imnse drain. An expenditure of resources, ti, and energy that Elder Alfred didn’t want to spend.
So, Elder Alfred had opted for the easy way out: Emperor Kaan.
The emperor’s single vote could easily fill the void left by the three missing signatures. Honestly, with Emperor Kaan’s support, Elder Alfred could probably cross off a few nas, and the petition still would be legitimate.
The king furrowed his brow, thinking for a mont before asking, "When is the eting?"
"Tomorrow, Your Majesty," Margrave Boris answered.
King Valentin gave a noncommittal grunt and drifted back into his thoughts. His brooding was interrupted by a knock at the door.
A servant entered and announced, "Your Majesty, Sir Kai of the Nightwarden seeks an audience."
Normally, both commoners and nobles had to jump through hoops just to schedule a eting with the king. However, mbers of the Nightwarden had special privilege of imdiate access—reserved only for matters of utmost urgency.
Not that they ever took advantage of it.
In fact, this was the first ti in ages that a Nightwarden had bypassed protocol to request an audience. Sothing was brewing.
King Valentin gave a slight nod, and with a creak of the heavy door, Margrave Boris gestured Sir Kai inside.
"Co on in," he said as if welcoming soone who might either save the kingdom or ask for a favor—no one was quite sure yet.
Wasting no ti, Sir Kai stepped forward, skipping the usual formalities and declaring, "Your Majesty, put to use. Whatever you need, I’m ready."
The king said nothing for an uncomfortably long ti. Sir Kai and Margrave Boris exchanged uneasy glances, desperately trying to read his face.
Was he plotting sothing? Or just debating what he’d have for dinner? They couldn’t tell—and the longer the silence dragged on, the more uneasy they beca.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, King Valentin let out a quiet breath and said with a faint smile, "How convenient! Turns out, I might have just the thing for you."
***
"How do I look?"
For the fiftieth ti, Elder Alfred posed the question to Lady Tanith.
The servants in the drawing room, trapped in this endless loop, had long ago mastered the art of not sighing out loud or rolling their eyes. It was becoming a Herculean task.
Elder Alfred was carrying on like a debutante about to make her grand entrance at a ball—spinning around on the sofa, fussing with his hair, and adjusting his posture as if the entire empire’s stability hinged on his seating angle.
"You look fine, Your Excellency," Lady Tanith replied with the sa robotic politeness she’d used the first forty-nine tis.
The servants watched in awe as Lady Tanith remained as serene as a saint in a storm.
While Elder Alfred fidgeted and fussed like a restless schoolboy, she remained utterly unfazed, as if his antics were nothing more than background noise—like birds chirping or, more accurately, like an endlessly whining wind-up toy.
Elder Alfred’s endless preening was finally interrupted by the grand announcent of Emperor Kaan’s arrival—an announcent that preceded the actual arrival by about a century, as was only fitting for soone of his exaggerated importance.
Elder Alfred made a final pose and cleared his throat. When the servants rushed to make a line near thedoor to welco the emperor, they bowed and could finally sighed their frustration away.
With a final pose and a theatrical clearing of his throat, Elder Alfred awaited the emperor’s entrance.
As the servants scrambled to form a perfect line near the door, they bowed deeply and allowed themselves a collective sigh of relief, their frustration montarily forgotten.
The servants’ endurance was rewarded when the tall, strikingly handso Emperor Kaan made his entrance.
With his long, silky silver hair flowing like a well-grood waterfall, he moved with an effortless grace that seed to defy the very laws of physics.
A perpetual, charming smile graced his lips, causing the female servants to swoon so dramatically that they had to brace each other to avoid collapsing in a heap of adoration.
"Elder Alfred, I presu?" Emperor Kaan asked, settling gracefully onto the sofa opposite the elder.
Elder Alfred nodded, trying to swallow his nerves and prepare an explanation for his visit. But before he could utter a word, Emperor Kaan cut him off, "Are you here for my vote?"
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