The school grounds had taken on a different aura. After the abduction, and our tense exchange in the library, I'd expected Krista to retreat, perhaps even avoid me. Instead, something unexpected began to unfold between us. The rigid frost of our initial interactions began to thaw, replaced by a peculiar, almost comfortable, warmth.
I noticed the subtle shift first. Our hallway greetings transitioned from formal nods to brief, almost imperceptible smiles. Our encounters in the library, once marked by my deliberate provocations and her bristling defiance, softened into casual conversations. She no longer seemed to interpret my bluntness as arrogance, but rather, as she later described it to others, as "honesty." She saw past the façade I presented to the world, past the "cold red eyes" she used to perceive, sensing a "hint of warmth" that surprised even me. It was disarming.
She would talk about her hobbies, her favorite things, her days. I found myself listening, truly listening, something I rarely did with humans beyond what was necessary for intelligence gathering. Her perspective was refreshing, unfiltered by the political machinations that consumed my life. She spoke directly, with a sincerity that was both frustratingly naïve and utterly captivating. I discovered a surprising kinship in her bluntness, in her refusal to sugarcoat reality, even when that reality irritated me. It seemed I had misjudged her as much as she had misunderstood me.
The biggest shift, however, came at lunch. My friends – Jeremy, Christian, Marcus, and Ethan – were, by nature, insular. Our bond was forged in over a century of shared duty, training, and the unspoken weight of our power. We kept to ourselves, a unit. Yet, one day, almost imperceptibly, Krista began to join us. She didn't force her way in; she simply… fit. Christian's easy warmth drew her in, Jeremy's boisterous humor elicited genuine laughter from her, Ethan's quiet intellect seemed to resonate, and even Marcus, who projected an intimidating coldness, found her directness disarming.
Watching her integrate into our circle was fascinating. The other students, both human and vampire, observed us with a mixture of surprise and whispered speculation. Our group, the pureblood elite, accepting a human, let alone the Church Leader's daughter, as one of our own? It was unprecedented. But with her, the lines blurred. She saw them as individuals – Christian's kindness, Marcus's hidden strength, Jeremy's playful spirit, Ethan's vast knowledge. And they, in turn, clearly grew to genuinely like her.
I found myself talking more, not just about "important" matters, but about trivialities, about the daily absurdities of human life, even sharing the rare, quiet laugh that my friends found so surprising. My long-held belief that humans were to be managed, to be observed from a careful distance, began to fray at the edges. Krista wasn't a category; she was simply… Krista. A friend.
Then came Jeremy's casual suggestion one afternoon, as we finished lunch in the cafeteria. "Shall we go to the arcade together this weekend?"
Ethan, ever the one to avoid family drama, instantly agreed. "Great idea. My older sister is coming home and I don't want to spend even an hour with her."
"Great. Krista?" Jeremy turned to her, his smile wide.
Her response, though polite, sent a ripple of unease through me. "I can't. My cousins and I already made plans. We will be spending the weekend at our family's summer house in the mountains."
"No fair. How can you make plans without us?" Christian exclaimed playfully, mirroring the genuine disappointment in Jeremy's expression.
Krista chuckled. "If only you could come with us, but it's against the law, remember?" Her light tone masked the underlying truth: the ancient, unbreakable laws separating our species.
"Then let's not tell anybody," Christian offered with a dazzling smile, oblivious to the deeper implications.
My control snapped. The playful banter, the easy camaraderie, vanished in an instant, replaced by the chilling reality of her vulnerability. The abduction was still fresh in my mind, the half-bloods' desperation a constant hum beneath the Council's debates. "That's enough. Rules are rules." My voice was sharp, a command. Then, driven by a fear I couldn't name, I glanced her way, my gaze intense. "But are you sure you'll be safe there? Will there be guards? How many people will be going with you?" The questions tumbled out, urgent, demanding answers.
Jeremy gave me a meaningful look, a knowing glint in his eye, but I ignored him. "Well?" I probed, needing to know every detail.
She seemed a little taken aback but answered calmly. "Eight cousins, three females and five males. I think two of our butlers are coming too, but I'm not quite sure."
"Stop worrying. I'm sure she'll be fine," Jeremy interjected, trying to lighten the mood.
"Of course I am. Nobody ever dared to trespass our family's property. I grew up wandering around those mountains," Krista assured us, her voice firm with confidence.
But her assurances did little to quell the rising tide of my concern. Her family's property might be secure from human trespassers, but it was open, vast, and offered ample opportunity for unseen threats. Threats that my world, not hers, would pose. The mountain house, a place of innocent family retreat for her, felt, to me, like another potential blind spot in a world increasingly fraught with danger. I would not allow her to walk into another one unprepared.