Anwen had dragged every scrap of paper she could find into a neat little pile on her bed. The tip of her quill scratched furiously against the pages as she bit her lip, brows furrowed in deep concentration.
Operation: Make Aimes Smile
Say good morning first.
Don't hide behind Fredrinn.
Share sweets (if he likes sweets??)
Don't cry if he yells.
Call him "big brother" (maybe???)
She tapped the quill against her cheek, frowning. "Number five might make him angrier…" she mumbled, then quickly crossed it out and wrote 'try again later' beside it.
The door creaked open and Laia poked her head inside, carrying a tray. "You're supposed to be resting, little lady. What are you plotting now?"
Anwen yelped and slammed her hands over the paper. "N-Nothing!"
Laia raised a brow, amused. She crossed the room in two strides and tugged the parchment free with ease. Her eyes danced as she scanned the messy list. "Ah, so the little lady is drafting battle strategies against our stone-hearted young master?"
Anwen's cheeks flamed. "I'm not battling him! I just…I want him to like me. He doesn't have to like-like me, just…not hate me."
Laia chuckled softly, setting the tray down. "You write very well, Lady Anwen. Your hand is steadier than most children of your age. Did someone teach you before?"
Anwen shook her head. "No…when I was locked away, I had books. Reading and writing was all I could do." Her voice grew smaller. "So I practiced."
Laia's expression softened. She knelt so her eyes were level with the girl's. "That's a fine gift, little lady. With a mind like yours, you should be studying what noble children study at home—history, arithmetic, manners. Would you like that?"
Anwen's eyes lit up, wide and hopeful. "Really? You'd teach me?"
"If you wish it. We can talk to the Duke about it"
Later, as they sat for lunch beneath the tall windows, Anwen pushed her food around her plate with a curious look. Finally, she blurted, "Laia…what are vampires really like? Not just the scary stories. I want to know."
Laia glanced at her, surprised. "What brought that on?"
"You're the only vampire I've ever really talked to," Anwen said simply. "And you're not scary. You're…nice. So maybe people are wrong?"
Laia chuckled under her breath. "Some are wrong. Some are not." She folded her hands in her lap, her tone taking on the calm rhythm of a tale told many times. "We were not always as you see us now. Long ago, we lived apart from humans, hidden deep in the north where the sun touches little. Our strength is our blood—our bodies do not tire, our wounds close quickly, and we can see through darkness as though it were daylight. But these gifts come at a cost."
Anwen leaned forward, listening intently.
"We hunger," Laia continued. "We must drink blood to survive. For centuries, this hunger drove us to war with humans. Villages burned, clans fell. Then came the pact. The Emperor of the humans and the High Lords of our kind agreed—no more war. Vampires would live within the capital, separated from humans, serving and being served in return. It is why noble houses like this one are vampire houses still. It is our place."
Anwen's lips parted slightly. "So…that's why everyone looks at me strangely. Because I don't look like you."
Laia reached over and smoothed the girl's silvery hair. "You do not look like us, no. But that is not shameful. Remember, little lady—the fairest flowers in a garden are often the rarest."
Anwen's chest warmed at the words. She nodded firmly, as though sealing it as truth. "Then…I'll study hard. And I'll make Aimes smile. You'll see!"
Laia laughed, shaking her head. "I'd almost rather face a pack of wolves than the determination of one little girl. Very well, my lady. Let us see how far your plans will take you."
The garden was hushed beneath the night sky, the roses heavy with dew, their scent soft and sweet. Anwen tiptoed between the rows until she found her favorite spot—a stone bench tucked beneath an arch of climbing vines.
She stretched out her hand. The moonlight spilled over her pale fingers as she touched the nearest bloom. A warmth stirred in her chest, quiet but insistent. The rose's petals quivered, then unfurled wider, brighter, until the whole flower seemed to glow faintly in the dark.
A smile tugged at her lips. Then it faltered.
It's been weeks…Her small voice trembled as it left her. Weeks since I escaped Duke Roarke.
Her fingers curled tightly around her knees.
What happened to him? Is he looking for me? He must be. He always said I belonged to him. But… She glanced up at the moon, as though it could answer. Duke Dorian said this is his province. He can't step in here without his permission. I'm safe…as long as I don't leave. As long as I stay within the estate walls.
The reassurance lasted only a heartbeat. Then her gaze dropped to the rose in her hand, still glowing faintly from her touch.
Her chest tightened.
But my powers…
For the briefest second, she imagined telling Duke Dorian everything—that she wasn't human, that she could make flowers bloom, that she could purify a vampire's corrupted heart. Maybe he'd understand. Maybe he'd keep her safe.
But the memory of Roarke's smile—so warm, so false—flashed through her mind, and she shook her head hard.
"No," she whispered fiercely into the night. "Not again. I won't let anyone use me again."
She drew in a deep breath, straightened her small shoulders, and set her jaw with the kind of determination that looked strange on such a little girl.
They can think I'm human. Or anything else. Just not Fae.
Her gaze swept the garden, the roses bowing gently in the night wind.
But if I can't tell them…then I'll just have to learn by myself. I'll find out more about what I am. About what my powers mean. And I'll control them—secretly.
The rose in her hand glowed one last time before dimming, as if it understood.
She hugged her knees to her chest and whispered her resolve into the moonlight.
"I'll find out the truth of what I am…even if I have to do it alone."