CHAPTER 27 — THE SHADOWS BENEATH THE CASTLE
Three weeks.That was how long Leona had breathed the metallic air of the vampire kingdom, how long she'd woken each day expecting to run mad from the silence, the fear, or the memories of the cell.
The servants' quarters were better than the dungeon but not by much. The walls here were still cold. The windows were still barred. The air still smelled faintly of old blood, no matter how hard she tried to scrub the scent out of her hair.
But she was free… sort of.Free to work.Free to obey.Free to survive another day.
Leona sat on the edge of her narrow cot, rubbing her temples. Sleep didn't come easily anymore. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the cell again. She heard the dripping water. She felt the chill of the stone. She remembered Marvin's voice drifting through the dark.
Marvin…The insane, half-broken man who'd been locked beside her for two years.
She didn't want to remember him.But she did.
The way he talked to the walls.The way he scratched numbers into the ground with shaking fingers.The way he'd whisper, "Don't trust them… don't trust their smiles. Vampires smile before they bite."
And the way he'd looked at her on her last day in the cell — eyes wide, almost pleading.
"If you ever get out… run. Or you'll end up like me."
But there was nowhere to run.
Not in this cursed place.
A loud clang tore her from her thoughts as a younger maid bumped into a metal basin outside the dormitory hallway. Leona jolted, heart pounding, breath shallow. She hated that she startled so easily now. She hated what this place had made her.
The maid peered into the room. "You look pale," she whispered. "Nightmares again?"
Leona forced a tiny smile. "Something like that."
The girl bit her lip as if wanting to say more, but one glance down the hallway made her straighten her posture immediately. The footsteps approaching were too smooth, too controlled, too quiet.
A vampire.
Leona felt every muscle in her body lock in place as a tall guard passed through the narrow hall. His eyes slid over the maids disinterestedly, like inspecting livestock. His shoes didn't make a single sound as he moved… that alone was unnerving.
Only when he was gone did the maids exhale.
Leona didn't.
She couldn't.
There was still a heaviness in her chest — the same one she'd felt since the day she was dragged here and thrown into the cell. The same one she'd felt when she first heard the whispers:
"King Zephyrion's sister brought in new livestock."
Livestock.That word haunted her more than the cell.
She swallowed hard and stood. Her hands were trembling again. She clenched them into fists.
"You need to pull yourself together," she whispered to herself. "If you show weakness here, you'll die."
She had survived worse. She could survive this.
She dressed quickly in the plain grey uniform of the palace maids and tied her hair with a cloth ribbon that had already frayed from overuse. Her legs felt like they carried chains, but she forced herself out of the room and down the narrow staircase.
The servant halls were alive now — brooms sweeping, buckets splashing, whispered complaints slipping through gritted teeth.
"It's always work with no rest…""My hands are blistered.""Did you see the prince feed yesterday?""Shh! Don't say such things out loud!"
Leona walked through them like a ghost drifting among the living. She felt their exhaustion, their fear — but none of them felt hers. None of them had spent three weeks locked in a cell with a madman whose laughter still echoed inside her skull.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped.
Her breath froze.
Ahead of her, the massive stone doors leading to the deeper part of the castle — the part she once only saw through iron bars — stood open.
And beyond them…
She could hear movement.
Slow. Soft. Precise.
A shiver crept up her spine.
The same way a predator moves.
Her pulse hammered.
King Zephyrion.
Even thinking his name felt dangerous.
She hadn't seen his face clearly yet. Only a faint silhouette the day she was captured, watching her with cold, evaluating eyes as she screamed and fought against the slave sellers' ropes.
She could never forget that gaze.
Now, as the doors creaked wider, she felt it again — as if someone far more powerful was watching her from somewhere she couldn't see.
Her hands grew cold.Her breath hitched.Her feet refused to move.
She didn't want to go deeper into that hall.She didn't want those eyes on her again.
But she had no choice.
A supervisor appeared from behind her and shoved a cloth into her hands. "Move. The king's wing needs cleaning before sunrise."
Leona swallowed the tight knot in her throat.
Another day of pretending she wasn't breaking.Another day of learning the rules of a kingdom built on blood.Another day of hoping no one noticed how close she was to falling apart.
She squared her shoulders, lifted her chin the tiniest bit, and forced herself forward — step after terrified step — toward the halls that once held her prisoner.
And toward the king who had watched her suffering with silent, unreadable eyes.