Night descended upon Nacrifa like mourning cloth draped over a kingdom trying very hard not to panic.
The palace had become quieter than death.
Not peaceful quiet.
Not restful quiet.
The kind that came when fear had entered a room and refused to leave.
The halls of Nacrifa were usually alive at night. Vampires thrived beneath darkness. Music often drifted from distant chambers, guards exchanged low conversations, nobles lingered in candlelit lounges pretending politics was not war wrapped in elegance.
Tonight—
none of that existed.
Servants lowered their heads when walking.
The guards stationed outside the royal wing stood unnaturally rigid.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody lingered.
Because rumors spread quickly in vampire kingdoms.
And tonight's rumor had teeth.
The prince collapsed.
The future king has not awakened.
Something happened during training.
The girl hurt him.
That last whisper had spread the fastest.
And inside the royal chambers—
