CHAPTER 14 — ARIA'S POV
Aria sank onto the edge of her bed, the weight of the training session on Luna ethics pressing on her mind. Every rule, every principle of the Luna's ways, felt like another reminder of how out of place she was here, a human among vampires and Alphas. She had been expecting Mira afterward—a familiar, kind presence she could rely on, even in this strange fortress. But when the door creaked open, it wasn't Mira who stepped inside.
A young maid entered, bowing politely. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, but there was a nervous tremor in her fingers that betrayed her composure.
"Princess Aria?" the maid said softly.
Aria's brow furrowed. "Who are you?" Her tone was calm, but sharp. She had learned quickly that politeness could hide caution, and caution was survival here.
The maid hesitated for a moment, then straightened slightly. "I… I am Seraphina, Your Highness."
Aria studied her carefully. The maid's gaze flicked to the floor, then quickly away, the corners of her mouth tight. Her movements were precise, almost practiced, but there was a stiffness in her posture that felt unnatural. "And… what happened to Mira?" Aria asked, keeping her voice neutral.
Seraphina's hands clenched ever so slightly at her sides. "Mira… ran away, Princess. She… could not remain here. It was best for her safety."
Aria's eyes narrowed subtly, though she didn't speak. She could sense the lie, the hesitation hidden beneath the maid's words. Mira had been kind, yes, but not weak or cowardly. Running away was not her nature. Aria forced her expression calm, betraying nothing. If this maid suspected that Aria knew the truth, it could be dangerous.
"Very well," she said softly. "Thank you, Seraphina."
Seraphina relaxed fractionally and set down the bundle of linens she had been holding. "I will do my best to assist you, Princess, though I know I am not Mira. It will… be different."
Aria watched silently, her posture rigid, her mind alert. She did not need Mira as a friend—just someone kind, someone predictable, someone who made this fortress feel a little less cold. That comfort had been stripped away, and with it came a sharper awareness of how alone she truly was here.
The moonlight spilled across the floor, silver and cold, and Aria's gaze followed it. Shadows danced along the walls, long and narrow, as if the fortress itself were watching her. She's lying. Mira didn't run, Aria thought. Yet she said nothing. For now, silence was the safer weapon. She would observe, catalog every movement, every tone, every hesitation.
Seraphina moved quietly around the room, arranging the linens, adjusting the furniture, speaking only when necessary. Aria's eyes never left her. Each careful motion, each polite word, told a story the maid was trying desperately to hide. And Aria—though young, though human—sensed the undercurrent of deception.
A breeze whispered through the slightly open window, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from the courtyard below. Aria shivered, hugging her arms around herself, partly from the cold, partly from the awareness that the fortress had grown quieter, heavier, somehow watching her in her solitude.
She leaned back against the bedpost, forcing herself to breathe steadily. Her thoughts raced, not with fear, but with calculation. Why did they replace her? Why the lies? She did not know the answer, but she would find it. Mira's absence, Seraphina's careful politeness—it was all a puzzle, and Aria intended to solve it.
Hours passed in quiet observation. The moon climbed higher, bathing the room in silver light, and Aria remained on her bed, alert and patient. Every small sound—the scrape of Seraphina's footsteps, the soft rustle of fabric—was noted in her mind. She was learning quickly: in this place, kindness was rare, and truth was rarer.
And as she lay back, finally letting her eyes drift closed for a moment, one thought lingered more sharply than all others: I will not be fooled. Not again. Whoever changed Mira, whoever sent this Seraphina, I will uncover it.
The night stretched endlessly, quiet and tense, and Aria felt the weight of her new reality settling in. Alone, cautious, and observant—this would have to be enough to survive the days to come.