CHAPTER 21 — THE KING'S CHAMBER
Leona sat on the thin straw mattress in the servants' quarters, the cold of the stone floor creeping up her legs. After three weeks in the Vampire Kingdom, the darkness of the place had started sinking into her bones. Whispered sobs and broken murmurs filled the room, but she barely heard them anymore. Her hands were raw from scrubbing floors. Her knees bruised. Her back ached from carrying buckets heavier than her hope.
The bell rang—sharp and metallic.
The iron door swung open and Mistress Yora stepped inside, her obsidian eyes sweeping through the humans like she was selecting livestock. "You," she snapped, pointing at Leona. "You're assigned to the King's chambers tonight."
Leona froze. Every servant stiffened.
Nobody wanted that assignment.
She stood slowly. "What do I—"
"Clean," Yora said. "Prepare his room. Draw his bath. Do not speak unless spoken to. Do not touch anything you are not instructed to. And if you value your life… do not look him in the eyes."
Leona nodded, though fear prickled down her spine.
Two guards led her through the twisting halls. The Vampire Castle pulsed with a strange life after dark; blue torches flickered like ghost fire, shadows moved like they had their own pulse. She kept her head down, too afraid to look at anything for too long.
They stopped before massive double doors carved with ancient winged creatures.
One guard opened them. "Inside. Do your work."
Leona stepped in quietly.
The King's chamber was cold, vast, and terrifyingly beautiful. Black marble floors. Tall windows draped in dark crimson velvet. A massive obsidian bed, carved with symbols she didn't understand. Even the air smelled different here—like smoke, old magic, and something sharper.
She started cleaning immediately, scrubbing even though the floor gleamed. Better to overwork than miss a spot.
When she moved to the bathing chamber, she started the bath and added the oils Mistress Yora had given her—night rose, ironwood, frankincense. Steam curled around her like fog.
Her reflection wavered on the water.
"I don't belong here," she whispered.
The castle swallowed her voice.
She turned to gather towels.
The air changed.
Cold. Heavy. Quiet.
Leona froze.
Someone was behind her.
She didn't hear him enter. Didn't hear footsteps. But something ancient and powerful settled over the room like a shadow.
The Vampire King.
Her heart pounded painfully.
She kept her gaze down, just like she was told, staring at the black marble beneath her feet. But she could feel his eyes on her—sharp, focused, curious.
"My King…" she whispered. "Your bath is ready."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then a deep voice, carved from ice itself, brushed her ears.
"Raise your head."
Her breath hitched. "I was told not to—"
"I said," he repeated, quieter but far more dangerous, "raise your head."
Leona slowly obeyed, lifting her chin just enough to see the outline of him. Tall. Pale. Elegant. Power radiated from him in cold waves that made her bones feel hollow. She did not dare look him directly in the eyes.
"Good," he murmured, as if she'd passed some test he hadn't spoken aloud. "You listen better than most."
A cold shiver ran through her.
He walked past her, silent and graceful. His presence brushed her like a winter breeze, stealing the heat from her skin.
"Leave the towels," he said. "You may go."
"Yes, my King."
She turned to leave, desperate to escape his presence, but before she reached the door, she heard him speak—soft, low, almost to himself.
"Silver hair… bright eyes… trouble follows you, little human."
Leona's chest tightened.
He remembered her.From the night she was captured.From the shadows where he watched without helping.
Now she was in his chambers.Serving him.Seen by him.
She stepped into the hallway, trembling.
The Vampire King was dangerous.Unpredictable.A creature of power she couldn't understand.
But what terrified her most was the strange twisting in her chest—something that wasn't fear.
Something else.Something unnamed.