Lilian let her gaze sweep the ballroom, the weight of attention prickling across her skin like static. A few pairs of crimson eyes flicked toward her—curious, cold, some almost feverish in their scrutiny. The intensity was unsettling, yet familiar. Constraint wrapped around her shoulders like a borrowed cloak, heavy but not wholly foreign.
With practiced poise, she stepped into the crowd of vampires, seeking an opening in the web of conversation.
And then an opportunity presented itself—a woman with the delicate elegance of a sculpture, her features youthful, her presence anything but. She turned to Lilian with the tilt of her head, voice overly honeyed, hiding the sharpness.
"How charming. We so seldom entertain mortals at court. Tell me, dear Lady Lilian, are you familiar with the custom of the Crimson Reverence?"
No pleasantries. No time to prepare. A challenge, thinly veiled but obvious.
Lilian stilled. "I… must admit, I am not." Her tone was mild, unwavering, though she recognised the trap for what it was. Around them, a few listeners exchanged amused glances; the air pulsed with that familiar mix of disdain and intrigue.
Lilian gazed upon them — pure bloods — the traditionalists within the kingdom.
"But of course. How thoughtless of me. One cannot expect a bloom from the field to know the ways of a cultivated garden." The woman replied with mock sweetness, her shiny fangs making an appearance. Yet, her words posed more threat than them.
"Quite right," Lilian replied, her smile gentle. "I've always found that the most enduring customs are best told by those who hold them dear. Might I ask you to enlighten me? I imagine few could match your elegance in the telling."A stillness answered her—curious, assessing. Lilian's tone is respectful, even flattering, yet it lands with the graceful sting of a challenge.
"How… gracious of you to ask. Of course. It would be my pleasure." The woman smiled tightly, her voice smoothed but slightly cooled. "The Crimson Reverence is among our oldest rites. A symbolic act—an offering to honour bloodline, legacy, and the enduring sovereignty of kin. During the early nights of the Ascendant Court, a guest who enters noble company must offer a mark of deference—usually a single drop of blood, placed into the Chalice of Kin. A small gesture of respect." Her smile was filled with venom.
The court listened, some with veiled amusement, others with subtle wariness. A few glanced toward Lilian, awaiting her response. The implication is clear—you do not belong.
"Ah. An offering of blood. How delightful." Lilian's eyes glimmered, "I admire how your traditions give such reverence to history and heritage. There's something deeply poetic in the symbolism. Though I must admit, I'm curious—does every guest participate in this ritual, or is the offering more… selectively requested?"
A ripple passed through the crowd—subtle, but unmistakable. Lilian had returned the strike, politely showing that she understood the subtext hidden between the verses.
"In the courts of old, no mortal was exempt." The woman's voice was like velvet stretched too tight, her eyes narrowed on Lilian.
"I must say, where I am from, we usually offer wine to our guests, not our blood." Lilian speaking caused a shift in the crowd again, "I'm quite new to the ways of your court, and I thank you for sharing such an intimate tradition. Though I imagine it's expected to be voluntary and not announced with so many watching."
"Tradition is best observed with witnesses." The woman smiled tightly.
"You must have witnessed aplenty. I suspect that no one reveres history quite like the one who's lived most of it. And as you say, the ritual is not beneath anyone" Lilian suggested, omitting the purposeful wording the duchess chose to ensure that it was the human sacrifice. "Will you share this moment with me and lead by example?"
"Oh, my dear—such a charming suggestion." The woman leaned in slightly, as if sharing a secret. "But I fear I've already given quite enough to history. One should pace themselves, after all… immortality demands restraint." She paused then she laughed, "And besides, to offer one's blood in such company… it would require an assurance of equal worth. A tradition is one thing, balance in nature is of equal importance."
"Of course, the world requires balance. For what is taken should also be given in equal value. Unfortunately, worth is so often mistaken for something inherited… rather than earned." Lilian tilted her head just slightly in mock innocence. "I've always thought it revealed itself best in what one is willing to give and risk. Tradition may be comfortable —but history tends to favour the change." Lilian let her words hang a moment, then adds, lighter, "I shall keep the Chalice in mind, should the evening grow dull." Lilian curtsied deeply, "it was a pleasure to meet you, Duchess…?"
"Selene Vaerath." The duchess replied coldly, bowing her head.
"Duchess Selene." Lilian straightened up and smiled.
Another young woman approached her with over the top excitement.
"Lady Lilian! How exciting is it to have you with us!" She swept Lilian into motion on the dance floor before permission could be granted. Her energy was disarming, her movements intentional.
"Smile. Don't look at them. You're doing wonderfully," the woman whispered as they danced.
Lilian followed her lead, her steps stiff at first, then softening as the current shifted. Around them, a few others joined the floor—newbloods, judging by how they interacted and with whom.
"You have impeccable timing," Lilian murmured. "Another moment and I might've let Selene draw blood just to end the suspense. But I must admit that I have failed to catch your name."
"Thalia Wynlock," she replied, her smile revealing fangs that seemed less sharp than those shining in duchess's lips. "And you handled Selene better than most do."
"I don't think I've passed a test yet, but if nothing else, I made an impression."
"That, you did." Thalia chuckled.
Lilian glanced over the crowd, watching as vampires spoke in hushed voices.
"I'm beginning to suspect the loudest victories here are the quietest ones. A whisper three feet away, a nod, a half-smile."
"You're catching on quickly." Thalia laughed, spinning her lightly. "But many of those whispers are because they don't know what you are," Thalia said simply, her step fluid. "And the unknown unsettles them more than the truth would."
"I suppose mystery outranks scandal." Lilian noted, scanning the crowd for Cassius, but instead noticing pairs of red eyes and faces twisted in disgust. "But gratefully, I've tripped on worse shoes than these."
"Good. You'll need that footing when you meet Lord Caldreth. He once challenged a duel over an insult to his cravat." Thalia chuckled, her deep brown hair flowing into the spin along with Lilian's creating the dance resembling nymphs.
"I'd only insult it if I could tell what it's meant to be. Is it a swan or an unfortunate cabbage?" Lilian said as she glanced over her shoulder. Thalia laughed loudly, drawing attention from nearby vampires.
"You really ought to be careful, Lady Lilian. That cabbage cravat belongs to one of the oldest names at court."
"Then he should know better by now." Lilian joked quietly that only Thalia heard. A few nobles drift closer, drawn by the relaxed mood Lilian and Thalia have cultivated.
"Lady Thalia, may I steal Lady Lilian for the next dance?" The voice was smooth, deliberate. A man with sharp angles and a discerning gaze stepped forward.
"She's all yours, Veyric. Do try not to trip over your pride." Thalia bowed out with grace.
Lilian offered her hand, and Veyric took it with theatrical precision.
"I'm a dreadful partner if your ego bruises easily," she said as they began to dance.
"You move surprisingly well for one unfamiliar with the Crimson Reverence," he replied, his voice low.
"If a lack of ritual knowledge is scandalous, give me another few dances and I'll start bowing to the curtains just to be safe."
"The chairs in Ironwood have long memories," he quipped. "Offend one and you'll stand for eternity."
"Then I hope they're kinder than the nobility."
"You're very calm," he observed. "For someone in a room of predators." Veyric noted as he tilted his head. As he smiled, the tips of his fangs shone.
"Perhaps I've learned the trick is to smile as if I had fangs too."
"A charming disguise," he mused. "Though I suspect there's bite behind your smile, sharper than many fangs present here tonight."
"Perhaps." Her voice was light, unbothered.
Veyric let out a rich laugh, eyes glinting, "you'll either enchant the court or ruin it."
"Why not both? I favour efficiency."
"I had assumed the king kept you close for diplomacy but now I question his motives." Veyric noted as he leaned in slightly. The coldness from his body reached Lilian, giving her goosebumps.
"Oh no. He keeps me close because I am a brilliant amusement. And I keep him from setting the tapestries on fire when he's bored." Lilian continued to humour Veyric, knowing that she had an equal weapon.
"Though I do wonder — where did you learn to wield your words so well?"
"I prefer to duel with conversation. Swords are too messy and far too final."
"A shame. I suspect that you'd be deadly with either."
As the music slowed, Lilian dipped gracefully, holding his gaze.
"And yet here I am — utterly harmless, your lordship."
"Liar." Veyric smirked.
His hands released her but his eyes lingered.