"Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky."
-Rabindranath Tagore

I immersed myself in the library for the next two days, captivated by the vast array of books that beckoned from the ledges. They spanned categories from children's fiction to adult erotica and included history on every imaginable subject, both human and supernatural. The shelves towered to the ceiling, encasing every nook of the room, and small bookshelves were cleverly integrated into the tables scattered throughout. I found solace in this space, often sitting in the center of the room with a pile of books at my feet, gazing in awe at the literary treasure surrounding me.

Nevertheless, after spending so much time in the library, I finally decided to explore the painting room that had caught my attention on my first day. Curiosity piqued, I wondered what it would be like—would it be filled with stunning artwork hung on the walls or a space where individuals could express their artistic abilities? Either way, I was sure it would be as remarkable as everything else in the manor.

I climbed out of bed and quickly slipped on the first pair of clothes I could find, knowing I'd likely spend the day alone in the room. Running a hand through my hair, I made my way to the door and opened it, stepping into the common room. It was empty, starkly contrasting the lively atmosphere I had grown accustomed to. Late morning had settled in, and everyone was either busy with their respective duties or catching up on sleep for their night shifts.

As I walked down the hall toward the painting room, I passed a couple of the day shift guards, who offered gentle smiles in my direction as a simple greeting. I found myself smiling back, albeit warily. Over the last few days, I managed small conversations with those who wished me well or simply wanted to say hello. My skin was settling down, and I noticed I was gradually relaxing.

Stopping in front of the door, I hesitated before opening it. Just as I expected, the room was empty.

The walls, however, were adorned with stunning works of art. Paintings of all sizes—larger than windows and smaller than my hands—burst with colors brighter than I had ever seen. Even the darker pieces seemed to radiate their own light. In the center of the room stood a series of stations, each surrounded by various paints on a counter that formed a circle. I made a mental note to experiment with that one day; I never tried my hand at creation like that, but being enveloped by such beauty made me feel like I could.

That's when I noticed a large painting, nearly as tall as a door, dominating the center of the room. The woman depicted was draped in an elegant dress that flowed open at the front, revealing delicate lace pants beneath. She had the same chestnut-colored hair and face shape as mine; for a fleeting moment, I almost believed it was me. But she was older, and as I studied her, I realized she held a sword at her side, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous yet playful spark. Her demeanor screamed bravery. A gasp of recognition escaped my lips. I knew without a doubt that the woman had to be Marie. I spent the rest of the day captivated by the painting, an ache blossoming in my heart.

Three more days passed in a blur of words and memorization. It was time to review all the papers I received from Nan. I couldn't believe the sheer volume of rules and the extensive list of potential jobs that could be assigned to me. I was astonished that it took so many tasks to maintain a household. After I finished that, I skimmed through the two books I had checked out from the library about vampires and their history.

The first thing I read about was the Supernatural Committee and how they had unanimously decided they no longer wanted to hide from humans. They conspired with the Wickeds to create a portal to their lands that no human could find or cross. The Wickeds fashioned blindfolds that allowed humans to be brought through, but only at that moment; without the magic of the cloth, any human attempting to pass through would simply turn to ash.

Next, I delved into the history of the first Academy, learning about how the first vampire royal lineage was chosen and why vampires were viewed as the most powerful species. It mainly stemmed from their personalities and the raw power they wielded, regardless of their state. There had been a vote among all supernaturals that decided between three of the oldest bloodlines: Rothschild, Cathcart, and Dugdale. The Rothschild name won by fifteen percent, with the Cathcarts coming in second. The text mentioned that the Dugdale line had nearly died out, with only two heirs remaining.

I woke up with my face pressed against the book, the clock ticking toward one in the morning. I dragged myself to my quarters, hoping to get some much-needed rest.

Jolted awake by loud knocking, I wiped drool off the corner of my mouth. The time said it was still early in the morning. The shutters and curtains had yet to be drawn. Groaning, I forced myself out of bed and opened the door to find a bright and energetic Becca. She took one look at my disheveled appearance and tisked at me. "Your test is in an hour! You're not getting ready?"

My eyes widened in shock. How had I forgotten about that after spending almost the entire night re-reading the manual? Becca snickered, urging me to get dressed. I complied, ruffling my hair as best I could. She bounced alongside me through the halls, her energy infectious, just like the first time we met. Without hesitation, she glided into Nan's office and presented me as if I were on a critical mission.

Nan lightly scolded her for not knocking, then turned her warm smile toward me. She instructed Becca to have a seat and motioned for me to follow her. We entered a small room with a desk and a comfy chair. "Please take your time answering the questions," she said as I settled into the chair. "Answer as honestly as you can. I wouldn't want you to waste time doing something you dislike. You can only request to retake the test once a year."

I nodded as she handed me a small paper with ten questions. I was surprised; I had expected a lengthy packet. However, after reading the first question, I quickly realized these were no easy prompts. They sought to uncover my past, thoughts on the future, what I liked about myself, and what I disliked doing. I hadn't considered my interests in so long; they had felt pointless, like contemplating my future or myself.

After staring blankly at each question for half an hour—timing myself by glancing up at the clock on the wall—I finally mustered the resolve to answer each as best as possible.

As I walked out of the room, feeling dejected over my newfound lack of self-awareness, I handed my paper to Nan and quietly sat beside Becca. She gave me a sympathetic smile and gently patted my hand, whispering about the delicious food we could grab after we left, trying to distract me from my swirling thoughts.

"Congratulations!" Nan announced suddenly, causing both of us to jump slightly. "You'll be Evan's new assistant! He's been needing one, and food seems to be an area of interest for you."

My face broke into a huge grin. Becca and I quickly went to the kitchen to share the news with Evan. He appeared delighted, though I couldn't help but notice his eyes frequently darting back to Becca when she wasn't looking. He told me to show up bright and early tomorrow morning as we waved goodbye. That night, I settled into bed, feeling more satisfied and comfortable than I had since being taken from my former life.

Yet, despite feeling completely content, the past week had been marked by the same haunting pattern every night. I always woke in a pool of sweat, racing to the bathroom to purge everything left in my stomach into the toilet. Afterward, I would spend fifteen minutes lying on the cold floor, trying to control the shaking and sobs that tore through my body. Once I calmed down, I would climb into the dry side of my bed, swearing someone was watching me. Each time I flicked on the light, the room would be empty, and the odd sensation of loneliness would wash over me.

I was jarred awake this morning by a beeping alarm, realizing I had slept through the night without waking up in terror. I was sure I had a nightmare, but it felt faded and blurry, like a distant memory. I stretched my arms, and a satisfying pop radiated down my spine. Glancing at my dresser, I noticed a pile of white clothes with a note resting on top. The elegant script simply read, "Uniform."

I took the time to shower and slipped into the clothes. The pants were made of simple white fabric, while the shirt featured black buttons along the side instead of down the middle. It was comfortable, paired with a straightforward set of black tie-up shoes. Feeling more ready than ever, I was about to head downstairs when a knock sounded at my door.

I opened the door to find Becca rushing in for a hug. "It's your first day! Are you excited? You actually get to make the food! It's like its own art!" She patted my hair affectionately."I'm pretty excited—also nervous. I hope I don't mess up too badly and get fired on my first day," I replied, smiling into her shoulder.

Her laughter vibrated through me as she pulled away. "I'll walk with you. I want to grab something before I start on the east wing of the orchard today. I plan to add a few more paths."

We walked toward the kitchens, chatting about her trees and my worries about messing everything up just by being there. As I stepped through the door, Evan grabbed my arm and pulled me toward a wooden table laden with various ingredients. "I'm a little behind," he said urgently. "The breakfast cocktails should have been finished five minutes ago!"

"It's called a Pineapple-Mint Mojito. You're going to help me put the ingredients in the glasses, and I'll be right behind you shaking them up and pouring in the soda," he explained, lifting a pitcher filled with vibrant liquid. "First, add three spoonfuls of this mixture—pineapples, limes, and mint mashed together. Then, take the shot glass next to the mixture and pour one shot of rum into each glass."

After a few attempts, we began to move in sync. The first tray was ready within ten minutes, and the second was nearly done. Evan gave me a satisfied nod and gestured toward the completed tray. "Why don't you take out the first tray and place it on the drink table in the dining room?"

I nodded, wiping my hands on my shirt, which was already splattered with rum. I grabbed the tray and carried it as instructed, using my wrist and shoulder for support, so I had a free hand to open the door. As I swung it open, I had no idea how it happened, but suddenly, I was dripping in cocktails—along with another person.

Evan approached me with an amused smile, but it quickly faded into terror when he glanced out the door and saw whom I had crashed into. "Prince Jaxon. Sir. Are you alright? I'm so sorry. Maddie here is new; it's her first day—"

The Prince raised his hand, silencing Evan, and my heart raced into overdrive. I was frozen in place, fear paralyzing me.

His vibrant hunter-green eyes locked onto mine as I dripped with cocktails. The room fell into a heavy silence, every gaze fixed on us in stunned shock. I desperately tried to say something—anything—a form of apology, a plea for forgiveness—but no words would come. Then, just as the tension peaked, the silence shattered, filled by a deep, rich laugh that resonated throughout the dining room.

Well, that wasn't what she expected when meeting the Prince for the first time! How do you think this will progress? Are you excited for the next part? 

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