The ceremony was complete. They had become his wives.
The night gradually quieted as guests returned to their respective households, but my thoughts refused to settle. They moved restlessly, turning over the same problem again and again.
I needed to assign a residence to the other consort—quickly.
Should I let them stay together?
No.
That would be a mistake. Proximity could breed either conflict or familiarity, and both would become troublesome in time. For now, Rose would stay with Sarah. Sarah was suitable for the role—she neither favored humans nor despised them. Neutrality was useful.
Across the hall, my gaze shifted toward Eliot. He stood beside his mother, deep in conversation, though their attention lingered unmistakably on me.
What could they possibly be discussing now? Had they not done enough for one day?
For a brief moment, Eliot noticed my attention. He smiled—casual, almost amused—and lifted a hand in acknowledgment before returning to his conversation as though nothing had happened. The duchess mother remained unreadable, her expression as composed as ever.
Irritating.
He moved through everything as if he hadn't just created the very situation I was now forced to manage.
****
Hours passed, and the hall eventually emptied.
I returned to my estate. Rose had temporarily moved in with Sarah, and the duchess mother had approved the arrangement, even suggesting that White Lotus Manor be prepared for her.
The day had been long—longer than most.
The first week was always the most demanding.
I leaned back in my chair, pen in hand, reviewing documents with slow precision. My gaze lingered on the pages, though my thoughts drifted elsewhere.
Perhaps I should visit home soon. It had been a while since I last saw mother and father.
As for the consorts…
That matter would need to be handled properly—and soon. Tomorrow would be their initiation ceremony.
Hopefully, they would not cause trouble.
"Alice," I called.
"Yes, my lady."
"What happened to the new maid from earlier? Is she still here?"
"Unfortunately not, my lady. She resigned a few days ago. It is not easy for a human to remain among vampires."
"I see…"
I leaned back slightly, eyes unfocused in thought.
"Tell me, Alice… can one live among monsters when they themselves are made of monsters?"
She did not hesitate.
"How would a simple maid know who has the right to live, my lady?"
Her tone was steady—serious.
My gaze lingered on her for a moment before a quiet laugh escaped me.
"Did I sound like him just now?"
"Very much so, your highness."
So it seems.
Spending time around him had begun to shape me in ways I hadn't noticed. Whenever I thought I understood him, he shifted—just enough to remain out of reach.
And somehow, I always found myself following.
_______________
The sun's rays rested against my skin as I turned slightly, avoiding their warmth.
Daylight had always weakened us. Most preferred to sleep through it.
Unfortunately, I did not have that luxury.
There was work to be done.
I sat at the table, my gaze settling on the faint reflection staring back at me from the surface of a bowl of blood. The taste was unpleasant—metallic, lingering against my tongue. Still, I forced it down in measured spoonfuls until nothing remained.
Alice stood in the background, visibly unmoved, by my antics.
"Did you send the ceremonial robes?" I asked.
Andrew, standing beside her, nodded. "Of course, my lady. They have been delivered. Though, as we only prepared one new set, the others were given previously worn robes. They are in excellent condition—no one will notice."
"I trust your judgment."
If he deemed them acceptable, then they were.
Besides, the duke had chosen not to inform us in advance. He could hardly expect perfection.
****
We made our way to Sangros Temple.
The structure stood ancient and unyielding, its presence rooted in over a thousand years of history. It was said to be the resting place of Sangros himself.
I had arrived early.
The sooner this was handled, the better.
A young priest guided me inside, where the Holy Steward was already in meditation. His body hovered slightly above the ground as he chanted, his voice low and rhythmic.
Though I found little fondness for the old man, I could not deny his discipline.
To meditate during the day required a level of control few possessed.
The Holy Steward descended gracefully, bowing his head.
"How is your highness?"
"Well enough," I replied.
He gestured for me to follow, leading me into the garden.
It was vibrant—unnaturally so. The air carried the scent of spring despite the season being well into autumn.
We took our seats, and another priest approached, serving tea—placing mine first, as tradition dictated.
"The arrangements for the initiation ceremony have been completed," the Holy Steward stated calmly.
"I'm not here to ask about that."