The library was Aiden's last sanctuary. It was the one place where chaos seemed to dissolve into the quiet rustle of turning pages and the scent of aging paper. After his encounters with Lyra's unsettling devotion and Talia's prickly hostility, he needed the cold, hard comfort of facts. He needed maps of the Spine Mountains, records of old patrol routes, anything that could give him an edge.
He pushed open the heavy oak doors, stepping into the cavernous room. Sunlight streamed through the high, arched windows, illuminating millions of dust motes dancing in the air like tiny, chaotic stars. The silence was so profound it felt like a physical presence.
And then he saw her.
At the far end of the aisle, a figure moved with an unnatural grace. Seraphine. She held a feather duster, but she wasn't just dusting. She was gliding, her feet barely seeming to touch the floor. The simple maid's uniform she wore looked like a costume on her, unable to dim the innate elegance in her posture. Her silver hair was pulled back in a severe bun, but a few strands had escaped, catching the light like threads of pure moonlight.
Aiden's blood ran cold. His hand instinctively went to his neck, to the two small, almost healed scars that throbbed with a phantom pain. He remembered the darkness, the sudden, paralyzing weakness, and the sharp, piercing sting of her fangs. He remembered the feeling of his life, his warmth, being drawn out of him.
He took a deep breath, forcing his feet to move. He was a prince. He would not be intimidated by a cleaning lady, even one who had drank his blood. He needed a book from the high shelf in that very aisle.
He walked towards her, his steps deliberate and loud in the silence. She didn't turn. She continued dusting a leather-bound tome, her movements slow, methodical, utterly serene.
He reached up for the book he wanted—a treatise on mountain geography—but just as his fingers brushed the spine, another hand, pale and cool, was already there, holding it.
Aiden flinched, snatching his hand back as if he'd been burned.
Seraphine finally turned to face him, her deep violet eyes holding no emotion. She held the book out to him. "Looking for this, Your Highness?"
Her voice was like velvet and ice, smooth and chilling. Aiden stared at her, at the pale, perfect line of her lips. He couldn't stop himself from looking, from remembering.
"It was you," he said, his voice a low, accusatory whisper.
Seraphine didn't flinch. She didn't deny it. She simply tilted her head, a gesture of faint, curious inquiry. "I was under the impression we were not going to speak of it."
"You bit me," he hissed, taking a step back. The memory of the violation was raw. "You drank my blood."
"I did," she conceded, her tone as matter-of-fact as if she were commenting on the weather. "And for that, I am in your debt. An inconvenience, I assure you, I do not enjoy."
"Inconvenience?" Aiden sputtered, his voice rising. "You attacked me!"
"It was hardly an attack," she said, her gaze unwavering. "An attack implies malice. What occurred was... a necessity. A moment of weakness." She placed the book on a nearby reading cart, her movements still unnervingly fluid. "The journey here was... taxing. My reserves were depleted. A simple tonic wasn't enough to restore me."
Aiden stared at her, aghast. "So you just decided to drain the prince?"
"I decided to take a small amount from a readily available, healthy source," she corrected him coolly. "I took only what I needed. No more than a pint. You recovered within a day." She paused, her eyes studying him with a detached, analytical gaze. "Although I must admit, your blood is... surprisingly potent. A bit like a very strong, very bitter wine."
Aiden felt a wave of nausea. He was being critiqued. Like a vintage.
"Why are you here?" he demanded, changing the subject. "A vampire noble. Hiding as a maid. It makes no sense."
"Many things in this world make no sense, Your Highness," she said, turning back to her dusting. "I am here because I am hiding. A castle full of magical misfits and a cynical prince who avoids everyone is the perfect place for someone to disappear. No one asks questions."
"I'm asking questions."
"Yes," she said, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips. "You are. And that is what makes you interesting." She stopped dusting and faced him fully. "You are looking for maps of the Spine Mountains. I saw you earlier, staring at the atlas. You are planning something foolish."
Aiden's jaw tightened. "It's none of your concern."
"On the contrary," she said, gliding closer. For the first time, Aiden felt a flicker of fear that had nothing to do with being bitten. It was the fear of being in the presence of something ancient, powerful, and utterly inhuman. "You saved my life, in a way. By providing me with sustenance, you allowed me to continue my... existence. A life debt is a sacred thing, even for one such as me."
She stopped a foot away from him, her violet eyes burning with an intensity that rivaled Lyra's, but this was not devotion. It was something colder, more transactional.
"You seek knowledge of the Spine Mountains," she said, her voice dropping to a near-inaudible whisper. "I have lived for centuries, Aiden. I have seen empires rise and fall. I have heard whispers of every secret in this land. The poachers you hunt... they are not just men. They are a cult, known as the Heart-Eaters. They believe dragon heartstones grant immortality."
Aiden stared at her, his mind reeling. This was more than he could have hoped for.
"Help me," he found himself saying, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. "Help me, and the debt is paid."
Seraphine's lips curved into a genuine, predatory smile. "Oh, the debt is far from paid. But consider my assistance a down payment on the interest. Bring me a map of the northern passes. The one hidden behind the false panel in the history section. I will tell you what the King's patrols and the dragon riders are too afraid to even whisper about."
She turned and walked away, leaving Aiden alone in the aisle, the scent of old paper and ancient danger hanging in the air.
He came to the library seeking maps. He left with a terrifying new ally. He had a yandere who worshipped him, a tsundere who wanted to fight him, and now a vampire who was in his debt.
His quiet moment was well and truly over. His life had become a menagerie of beautiful, deadly monsters. And he was their keeper.