The balcony overlooked a graveyard of rose bushes, their petals blackened by frost. Celeste lit another cigarette, the ember a tiny rebellion against the dark.
Alaric appeared beside her, close enough to touch, miles from reach.
"You'll die young if you keep that up," he said.
She exhaled a smoke ring. "You'd love that, wouldn't you?"
Wind howled between them. When he spoke again, his voice was barely human.
"You don't know what you've awakened."
Celeste grinned. "Then stay and educate me."
For the first time, something flickered in his eyes—not fury, not hate. Something worse.
Interest.
Somewhere in the castle, a clock struck one. The game had begun.