DAUGHTER OF ASH AND NIGHT

Aliana's hands were ice-cold. She could still feel the weight of Queen Elira's words pressing against her chest.

"You can let yourself be played, or you can learn to play."

The Queen had made herself clear—Aliana was nothing but a pawn, one that could be discarded if she wasn't careful.

She hated the way her pulse raced as she walked through the palace halls, her thoughts tangling in loops. She needed control. She needed to breathe.

She turned a corner—

And almost collided into Kaelith.

His reflexes were quick. His hand shot out, catching her wrist before she could stumble. His golden eyes flicked over her face, sharp and assessing.

"You look pale," he noted.

Aliana yanked her hand away, her heart pounding. "Your mother summoned me."

Kaelith didn't react. "I know."

Something about the way he said it made her stop.

"You knew?" she asked slowly.

He tilted his head slightly, watching her with that cold, unreadable stare.

"You sent me in there knowing she would threaten me?" she accused.

There was a brief pause before he answered.

"You're still standing, aren't you?"

Aliana clenched her fists. The arrogance in his voice made her want to scream.

"You could have warned me."

"And ruin the lesson?" His lips curved slightly, amusement flickering in his expression. "No, Aliana. If you're going to survive here, you need to learn quickly."

Her pulse spiked.

She stepped closer, anger burning through her veins. "And if I don't want to play your games?"

Kaelith didn't move at first. Then, in one swift motion, he shifted, stepping into her space.

Too close.

Aliana inhaled sharply, her back pressed against the stone wall before she even realized he'd moved.

His hands rested against the wall, caging her in. His golden eyes gleamed, his voice lowering to something dark, something dangerous.

"Then you die," he murmured.

Her breathing was shallow. She could see the slight parting of his lips, the gleam of something sharp just beneath them.

His fangs.

It was subtle, but there.

The flicker of hunger in his eyes. The faint, almost unnoticeable way his pupils dilated.

For a moment, she thought he might bite her.

Then—he pulled away.

It was quick. A brief exhale, a sharp turn of his heel.

"Stay out of trouble, Aliana," he said over his shoulder before walking away.

She swallowed, forcing her pulse to steady.

She was starting to realize something.

Kaelith wasn't just dangerous because of his power.

He was dangerous because he was a predator.

And she wasn't sure if she was supposed to fear that—or be intrigued by it.

---

The Dance

Aliana hated court gatherings.

They made her feel exposed. Watched.

She adjusted the blue silk gown the palace had provided her, trying not to fidget. The fabric was smooth, luxurious.

And yet, she still felt like an imposter.

As soon as she entered the grand hall, she felt it—the stares. The whispers.

She ignored them.

She made her way to the edge of the ballroom, planning to disappear into the background—

Until he appeared.

"Leaving so soon?"

Aliana didn't have to turn to know who it was.

Kaelith.

He stood behind her, dressed in black and gold, a picture of absolute control.

She huffed. "You expect me to enjoy this?"

His lips twitched. "I expect you to endure it."

Then, before she could react, he extended a hand.

A silent command.

"Dance with me."

Aliana stiffened. "No."

The corner of his mouth lifted in a dangerous smirk.

"That wasn't a request."

And before she could protest, he took her hand—leading her straight into the center of the ballroom.

The music swelled.

His grip on her waist was firm. Not gentle. Controlled.

"You don't have to make a scene," she muttered, her pulse betraying her.

"Oh, but you forget," he murmured, his fingers tightening slightly on her waist, "everything about you is a scene."

She hated how effortlessly he led.

How natural this felt.

The heat of his touch burned through the silk of her dress, each turn of the dance forcing them closer.

Then—he pulled her flush against him.

For just a second.

She felt his breath ghost over her throat.

"You're tense," he noted, his voice too low.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. "Maybe because you keep looking at my neck."

His lips curved.

But his eyes were different now.

Darker.

Brighter.

Like the hunger was rising again.

He twirled her away before she could say anything else.

But she saw it.

The way his fangs pressed against his lower lip.

As if he was holding something back.

Aliana needed air.

She stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night breeze soothing the heat in her skin.

She shouldn't feel this way.

She shouldn't feel anything at all.

But she did.

She heard footsteps.

The world felt too quiet in that moment.

Kaelith stood in the shadows, his golden gaze locked onto Aliana. The sharp angles of his face were softened by the moonlight, but nothing about him was gentle. Not the deadly stillness of his posture. Not the way his fingers flexed, as if resisting the urge to reach for something—or someone.

Then—he moved.

No, not moved. Vanished.

One second, he was in the shadows. The next—

A blur of motion. A gust of wind.

And then—the guard screamed.

Aliana spun, eyes widening as she caught sight of Kaelith holding the man off the ground with one hand, fingers curled tightly around his throat. The guard thrashed, his feet dangling inches above the dirt, his hands clawing at Kaelith's grip—but it was useless.

A strange black mist curled around Kaelith's free hand, swirling like living smoke, feeding off the air itself. Witch magic.

Aliana felt it.

It wasn't just vampire strength. It was something else entirely. Something ancient. Something wrong.

"Kaelith." Her voice was firm, despite the unease crawling down her spine.

His golden eyes flicked toward her.

Then—he dropped the guard.

The man collapsed, gasping for air, scrambling away as if he'd just stared death in the face. Which—he had.

Kaelith turned fully toward her. Silent. Calculating.

"You didn't have to do that," she said, her voice quieter now.

He tilted his head slightly, those unnatural eyes glowing. "He was careless."

"He was terrified."

"Good."

A shiver ran through her bones.

She hated how fascinated she was by him in moments like this.

"What are you, Kaelith?" she found herself asking.

His gaze darkened. The black mist still clung to his fingers, curling like serpents of shadow before fading into nothingness.

"You already know the answer to that."

Aliana swallowed.

"I want to hear you say it."

For a moment, he simply looked at her. Then—his wings unfurled.

It happened in an instant.

A rush of air. The sound of fabric tearing against the force.

Then—they were there.

Massive, dark wings, stretching outward like a creature from a forgotten nightmare. They weren't like bat wings—no.

They were shadows made real. Smoke given form. They pulsed with an unnatural energy, the edges flickering like dying embers, like they weren't entirely tethered to this world.

Aliana stared.

Kaelith watched her with something close to amusement, but there was a sharpness there—a challenge.

"I am what you fear," he murmured, his voice impossibly low.

Her pulse quickened.

"And yet," he continued, stepping closer, "you didn't run."

Aliana clenched her jaw, forcing her body to remain still.

"Why would I?" she challenged.

His smirk deepened.

"Because you should."

His hand lifted—slow, deliberate.

She should have stepped back.

But she didn't.

His fingers brushed against the bare skin of her throat—light, fleeting.

Yet, it wasn't just a touch. It was something more.

A pulse of energy. A flicker of something ancient.

Her breath hitched.

"Your pulse betrays you, Aliana."

She swallowed hard.

"I don't fear you," she whispered.

Kaelith stilled.

For a long moment, he simply looked at her.

Then—his fangs lengthened.

And his wings unfurled further, blocking out the moonlight.

The shadows curled around him like a cloak, shifting, writhing, as if whispering secrets only he could hear.

Aliana's fingers twitched, but she held her ground.

"Maybe you should," he murmured.

Then, in a single gust of wind—he was gone.

Vanishing into the night, leaving her breathless, confused—and wanting.