Silia adjusted her emerald gown one last time, the soft fabric falling perfectly into place. She sighed as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and for a brief moment, her features softened.

She stood straight, the rich fabric framing her shoulder, the rest cascading down her form in layers of silk, brushing the floor with every step. The dress shimmered in the fading light, golden flecks woven into the material catching and reflecting the glow. Her dark hair was intricately braided at the crown, the strands twisted into tight, delicate patterns, the rest of her wavy locks falling loosely down her back, enhancing her tan, angular face.

The braids glinted with subtle gold pins that complemented her gown, giving her a yet understated grace, as if she embodied both fragility and power in equal measure, though most wouldn't agree on the later. Her sharp brown eyes, framed by dark lashes, seemed even more vivid against the deep color of her dress, though they held a weariness she couldn't quite mask.

Even adorned so beautifully, there was something slightly restrained in her posture, as if the weight of the evening clung to her as tightly as the dress itself. The sound of Qadir shifting behind her brought her back to reality, his expression as insolent as ever appearing within the reflection.

Silia turned away from the mirror, her fingers brushing lightly over the fine fabric of her gown one last time. He stood behind her, arms folded, his posture relaxed but with that same sharpness in his presence.

His attire—a perfectly tailored deep emerald jacket and dark trousers—matched hers, though he seemed utterly disinterested in the elegance of the occasion. The contrast between them felt stark. Where she wore the weight of the evening like a cloak, Qadir moved through it as if it meant nothing. She knew their current flow of emotions should've been reversed at the moment.

"Glad they made your pants fit." She snorted, looking towards his ankles. She had noticed more than once the ones that had been given to him were short, too short for him. Qadir wasn't that tall—beside next to Silia, not above one meter eighty-five, she assumed. Still, it was a funny sight to her, but he never complained about it.

"I'm as shocked as you are." His tone was dry, but his eyes gleamed with that familiar edge of humor. Silia shook her head, her smile faint but genuine. He wondered if it would be the last time she'd smile that evening.

As the pair made their way down, they soon faced on the stairs of the castle the rest of the Nandor household. The courtyard before her was already bustling with quiet activity; the carriages were lined up, their horses shifting restlessly in place, their coats gleaming under the light of the lanterns. She could make out Ivan, Emil, Seyan, and Asen standing near their carriages, each engaged in idle conversation, their presence commanding without much effort.

Asen and Seyan's bloodslaves stood off to the side, each behind their masters. Even from a distance, Qadir could recognize them—the women whose health had clearly deteriorated since their last encounter at that meeting. Both wore formal attire that seemed almost to mock their failing conditions, their frailty emphasized by the stark contrast of the grandeur around them. Ivan's bloodslave, however, seemed in better spirits. She stood a little straighter, her pale skin still holding a trace of vitality that had long since left the others.

He has had his ears bustling on by Leandra on how bloodslaves were supposed to reflect their masters and such. But those three humans looked on the brink of death. Perhaps Silia wasn't the only reason this House was falling behind vampire society, he snorted at the thought. Still, he was glad to be finally able to pinpoint who was owned by who.

He also understood Emil didn't appear to have one of them. He had been so eager to buy him off for Silia, you would expect him to own a bloodslave as well. But he was the only one from the small group with no human presence kissing his boots.

Silia's steps slowed as she approached, her eyes narrowing slightly as she caught sight of Seyan, who was watching her with an all-too-familiar smirk playing on his lips. Beside him, Ivan remained characteristically reserved, his eyes following her arrival but not betraying any particular emotion.

It was him, of course, who spoke first, his voice carrying that familiar undercurrent of mockery. "Last minute, uh? Avoiding us?" He smirked, his words hanging in the cool evening air like a taunt.

Silia's expression remained impassive as she approached. "No more than usual, Seyan." She replied coolly as Qadir followed.

"You know you won't be able to tonight." He winked, though it was anything but friendly. She rolled her eyes at him, already prepping herself to not lose her damn temper.

"Seems like you're still earlier than some." Asen added. She glanced around, noticing that Meyena had yet to make her entrance. "She always does that, doesn't she?"

"Meyena has the right to be late. You, on the other hand—" Ivan piped up.

"Ivan, I will beg if need be. Stop riding her. Please." Seyan muttered, despair filling his voice. Asen snorted at that as Ivan signed annoyingly but shut up nonetheless. Everyone was growing tired of this man's obsession.

Qadir, standing a step behind Silia, shifted slightly but said nothing. His dark eyes flicked between the vampires, observing the dynamics quietly. It wasn't often, if not ever, that he remained present when Silia interacted with her family.

As the tension in the air grew, the sound of hooves clattered nearby. One of the carriages pulled away from the line and drifted off, the driver impatient to clear the space. The slight movement drew their attention for a moment before they all returned to their waiting.

"They wanted to make sure you'd show up." Emil stated, his gaze following the carriage departure. Silia simply nodded, not looking at her brother.

Earl Dacian and his wife probably didn't want to be any later than this. She smirked internally. Their precious daughter could do no wrong, but still, they had to depart before everyone to arrive on time and find random apologies to justify everyone's late arrival.

"Meyena's never one to rush, is she?" Qadir muttered under his breath to Silia, who gave him a sideways glance of agreement.

Just as the tension seemed to settle slightly, the grand doors of the castle swung open, and Meyena finally appeared, her entrance as theatrical as ever. Leandra followed dutifully behind her, a shadow of quiet loyalty. Meyena was dressed in a gown of deep silver, a color that would remind of the moon, her appearance deliberately striking as always.

"Apologies for the wait." Meyena called out, her voice dripping with insincerity as she descended the steps, her eyes sweeping over the gathered group as if measuring their worth.

As Silia and Qadir approached their designated carriage, she felt Qadir's steady presence beside her—silent, watchful, and strangely reassuring. He held her hand as she got inside, quietly seating on the cushioned seat as he followed, making sure the door was correctly closed.

"I didn't expect the luxury." He stated truthfully as the carriage started moving, the castle already growing smaller through the round windows. The fact that each bloodslave shared their own carriage was more about the sake of control and convenience, rather than any form of respect or elevation. "Is it far?"

"I'm not sure, I heard Asen say about one hour." Qadir nodded as Silia already made herself comfortable, her legs resting on the seat. "I've only been once, but I remember their castle being so big. Nothing like here." She added quietly.

Qadir glanced at her, trying to gauge her mood. Silia had always carried a certain quiet strength, but tonight, she looked particularly worn down. He knew better than to ask directly, though. There were limits to their fragile bond.

"Better than what I'm used to." She looked at him, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "Should I expect to be put on display with the rest of the slaves or is there a corner I can hide in?"

"There's generally a space for bloodslaves to hang, if I remember correctly. Never too far, of course, but enough to get a breather among your fellow humans." She explained, "But I wouldn't recommend trying to hide too much. They might think you're trying to steal something." Qadir chuckled.

"Noted. I'll keep my hands where they can see them." The two shared a brief laugh, the atmosphere between them lightening sightly.

In all truth, she'd much rather hang with Qadir the whole night. But she knew how weird it would look. Silia, the freak who hadn't showed up for decades in such events, now only allowing herself to discuss with her human. She sighed, wishing they could all go to hell for good.

Qadir let his mind wander as well, thinking about the Kadijan. They were highly favored by the Royal family still, which made them an important asset to any noble families who might want to grab on some of their light. Although he wouldn't be able to wander as easily as he'd thought, he was still glad to attend. If he even had to interact with others of the same statute as him, he might grab onto interesting informations.

"I wonder what the Royal Court sees in them." he mused aloud, mostly to himself. She frowned at him, wondering why the hell would a human even cares. Silia shifted slightly, pulling her legs closer as she made herself more comfortable. He's ambitious, I'll give him that.

"They're extremely loyal to them. Efficient in keeping up appearances, kept their bloodline clean, no scandals, no controversies..." She went on. "And crazy riches." She made a face. "Like, crazy."

Not that Silia was particularly keen on reading about vampire history, but everyone knew of the primary benefactors of royal projects, from the construction of monuments to the funding of grand events, you could be sure those people were always involved. They were part of the extended royal lineage, just like Meyena and her father.

"You sound more impressed than me." He teased. "What are you expected to do tonight, smile and blend?" Qadir wondered. Surely, it couldn't be that hard if that many people were expected for the event.

Silia snorted. "I'm not blending in with anyone. I haven't shown my face at these things in years. Trust me, everyone's going to notice. Whether I want to or not." Her face darkened at the idea. She hopes she'll do better than usual.

Qadir tilted his head slightly, studying her. "And do you care?"

She blinked, caught off guard by the question. She gave him a sideways glance, her lips parting as if to respond, but then she just shrugged, pulling her legs up on the seat again. "Deep down, I think I do."

He didn't press further. It was clear that Silia's relationship with her family—and with the wider vampire aristocracy—was complicated. Qadir understood she was reliant on them to feed, but still, it felt like more to it. Perhaps it was obligation, or pride, or maybe something deeper she hadn't shared yet.

The carriage rolled on, the clattering of wheels on stone the only sound between them for a few moments. Qadir finally broke the silence.

"So, what should I expect tonight?" he asked, leaning forward. "Is there some additional secret vampire etiquette I need to know before we step into that place?" Silia's eyes flicked toward him, her smirk returning, though this time it seemed lighter.

"Getting worried?" She taunted, knowing it'll hit home. Qadir snorted, as if insulted.

"Beside what you already know..." She thought aloud. "I guess, don't get too comfortable with the others bloodslaves." He rose a brow, waiting for her to expand. "You know, reflection of their masters and all. They can be vicious little things."

After a pause, Qadir asked, his voice sharper, "What happens if things go wrong?"

"Depends how wrong. Best case scenario? I survive the night without punching someone in the face. Worst case? I do, and we leave in disgrace. But either way, the same goes for you as well."

"Glad to know we're on equal grounds." He smirked.

"But Qadir." she said, her voice a little softer. "You have to behave tonight." It would sound like an order, even a threat, from anyone else. But Silia made it sound more like a plead. "If you anger the wrong people, there's only so much I'll be able to do about it."

Her words hung in the air for a moment, a stark reminder of the reality they were about to face. It always felt strange to him, the way the vampire seemed to openly ask him for things, warn him of her own. She felt fierce in front of others, but she had no problem confiding in him how weak she truly was.

"Alright. I'll try to behave tonight." He confirmed smoothly, his voice losing the usual playfulness. "So will I." She completed.

The carriage rattled over a bridge, the castle now looming large in the distance, its spires dark against the twilight sky. Qadir glanced at Silia once more, her face unreadable as she stared out the window. Despite her playful jabs, he could tell this night weighed on her very much. She was impulsive, rebellious almost, but she wasn't foolish. Well, not completely.

The castle gates opened before them with a slow, creaking groan, and the carriage pulled forward, its wheels crunching over the gravel. As they approached the entrance, the grandeur of the Kadijan estate became fully apparent. High towers stretched into the sky, flickering lanterns casting golden light on the polished stone. The front courtyard was already filled with carriages, the elite of vampire society gathering under the watchful gaze of statues and banners that fluttered in the evening breeze.

Their carriage came to a stop, and the door opened with a soft click. As Qadir rose, ready to step out first, Silia grabbed his arm, stopping the movement entirely.

"Do I look pretty?" She blurted out, completely stopping the flow of his thoughts.

Qadir blinked, taken off guard by Silia's sudden question. It was moments like these that reminded him there was something far more vulnerable beneath her exterior. Her gaze anxiously waiting a reply from him, a faint smile showed on his face.

"Pretty?" He repeated, meeting her eyes.

He looked her over once more—truly looked this time. From the shimmering emerald gown that hugged her short frame, the delicate golden flecks in her hair, the fierce glint in her eyes that seemed at odds with the vulnerability of her question.

"You look better than that."

Her lips twitched, almost forming a smile. She nodded quietly, freeing his arm as he was finally able to open the door of the carriage. Qadir exited the carriage, scanning the courtyard. Vampires of every rank and status were already moving toward the grand entrance, some locked in conversations, others observing the arrivals with calculated gazes.

A few glanced toward them as he helped Silia down from the carriage, her dress shimmering as she stepped onto the cobbled path. She took a moment, standing tall, her chin lifted as she surveyed the crowd.

Qadir watched her for a good second, the way she could shift in an instant—from the Silia he had learnt to know, anxious and impulsive, to this calculating version of herself. It'll go well, he thought as she slowly retracted her hand from his.

As they walked toward the entrance, Qadir couldn't help but notice how structured the entire procession was. The Nandor family seemed to move in an unspoken, rehearsed order. Meyena, of course, led the way. Tall and proud, she walked with a confidence that demanded attention, her silver gown catching the light as it trailed behind her.

Seyan was next to her, equally composed, his face a mask of calm authority almost foreign to the creature he had interacted with a few times. Behind them, Ivan and Asen walked in near-perfect sync, their steps measured, precise, as if they'd done this a hundred times. Emil followed, and Silia, her expression stony as they neared the main hall kept pace alongside him. Qadir was at the rear, maintaining just enough distance to blend in but remain unseen, as did their others bloodslaves.

As soon as they stepped through the grand castle doors, Qadir felt the shift in the air—a palpable shift from the chilled night into a world steeped in centuries of tradition. The entrance hall was vast, with high ceilings adorned in intricate frescoes that depicted scenes of ancient battles and victories. Tall columns lined the room, leading the way toward the main hall, where the true evening's night was about to unfold.

The Nandors moved in perfect sequence, their silent procession a testament to the importance of decorum in vampire society. Qadir fell into step alongside the other humans, not too far behind but not close enough to disrupt the carefully maintained distance. As they walked through the castle, he became acutely aware of how coded their movements were. Everything was choreographed—the pace, the order, the way they held themselves. The family's humans were kept at a respectful distance, trailing just far enough to remain inconspicuous but still part of the entourage.

By the time they reached the grand receiving room, it was clear this wasn't just any event—as much as Silia had wanted to dismiss it. It was a display of power, wealth, and status. The ballroom doors stood wide open, revealing an opulent chamber filled with guests, all in immaculate attire. More crystal chandeliers adorned of shimering stones hung overhead, bathing the room in a soft golden glow, while walls lined with ancient tapestries who told stories of the Kadijan family's long and influential history. At the far end, Duke Abtin and Duchess Ahura stood, flanked by attendants, greeting each guest with a formal bow and the barest exchange of words.

The Duke, tall and imposing in his finely cut attire, wore an air of detached superiority. The Duchess, elegant and poised, smiled at guests with a cool distance that kept them at arm's length. Their presence at the head of the room seemed almost ritualistic—everyone who entered made their way toward them, offering bows and respectful greetings before joining the rest of the party.

Princess Irina Avram, the royal emissary for the evening, stood nearby. Draped in a gown of rich champagne pink, her long dark hair were pinned in a crown-like braid. She barely acknowledged anyone who greeted her. Her gaze, sharp and unblinking, flicked over the Nandor family as they made their way toward the Duke and Duchess, her eyes lingering on Silia, just for a fraction longer than on the others.

Silia didn't seem to notice, or perhaps she pretended not to. Qadir wasn't sure, but something about the princess's gaze unnerved him. There was interest there, though its nature was unclear.

As the Nandors approached the Kadijans, Meyena stepped forward first, as was expected of her, offering a deep, formal bow. Her gown shimmered as she moved, the gesture of her bow perfectly executed—enough to show respect without utter subservience.

"Your Graces, Princess Irina." She began smoothly, her voice steady. "We are honored to be here tonight. Thank you for hosting us." 

The Duke's response was as cold as expected of him. His gaze barely flickered toward Meyena before shifting to Seyan, as if she were no more than a shadow in his periphery. Duchess Ahura, for her part, smiled politely but distantly at her.

"We've been expecting you." He replied, his deep voice resonating through the hall. There was no warmth in his tone, no particular interest—just the barest acknowledgment of their presence. Seyan stepped forward next, bowing in turn, though not as deeply as Meyena had.

"Your Graces." Seyan greeted them with a calm, formal nod. He wasn't about to force the issue—he knew his place here and knew better than to take offense to the Duke's dismissive tone.

"Good of you to join us." Duke Abtin added, this time with a bit more weight behind his words. There was a mutual understanding between the two men—perhaps not respect, but a recognition of each other's roles in the evening. A recognition he clearly lacked to find in Meyena, or perhaps, any women truly.

Behind them, Ivan and Asen bowed in unison, offering polite but distant greetings, their words practiced and routine. The Duke barely spared them a glance before his gaze shifted to the next in line. Emil, still young by vampire standards but already projecting an air of self-importance, stepped forward next.

His bow was formal but lacked the depth of his elders. "Your Graces." he said, his voice firm but not overly deferential. The Duke nodded in return, his interest more piqued by Seyan than anyone before him. Emil's youth and status within the Nandor family seemed to capture a sliver of the Duke's attention, though it was fleeting.

And then there was Silia. Qadir's eyes were on her as she stepped forward, her expression unreadable. Her bow was just as perfect as the others, respectful enough to avoid any offense while keeping the necessary ease of it. "Your Graces." she said, her tone neutral. Duke Abtin's gaze barely lingered on her before moving on. Silia was of little interest to him—just another name in the sea of lesser vampires.

Qadir stood behind her, keeping his place in the shadow of the vampires, careful not to draw attention to himself. The humans, though technically part of the Nandor family's entourage, were little more than silent companions, expected to be present but unseen.

As the encounter finally finished, Silia found herself more than quickly utterly alone, her different relatives already scurrying away to different part of the room. She wondered who the hell they might run to but realized that regular people did have friends and acquaintances to meet.

She looked over her shoulder, noticing Qadir was still quietly standing beside her. He was looking around though, his gaze switching towards the different expensive furnitures of the room, the people moving around them...

"You look so curious." She teased, though there was warmth to it.

"They're humans, aren't they?" He asked, nodding his head at a group of people in front of them. Silia looked over.

Unlike the vampires, who glided through the room with an effortless grace, the group of humans seemed stiff and uneasy, their posture betraying their discomfort in such a lavish setting. He could tell they were trying to blend in, though they felt even more out of place than the slaves.

The men wore tailored coats—fine fabrics of dark green, navy, and brown—but their clothes lacked the extravagant flourishes found in the vampires' attire. There were no embroidered patterns of gold or intricate brooches adorning their jackets, just simple, clean lines and a quiet kind of wealth that paled in comparison to the decadence surrounding them. One man, older with graying hair and a thick beard, seemed particularly ill at ease, his fingers twitching at the hem of his coat as if he couldn't keep them still.

"Mostly mayors or governors from Kadijan owned cities." Silia said softly, bringing Qadir's thoughts back to her voice. "They're never relevant to this kind of event and mostly keep to themselves, but they're often present."

Qadir frowned slightly at the idea. "Owned cities?"

"Yeah, shouldn't you know about them?" She asked back, a hint of genuine confusion in her tone. "There are human cities out here that lives as if they were free. Of course, their citizens don't have much of the choice of getting out of them, if they want to keep their lives as it is; vampire free."

"I didn't know vampires were that picky over humans." She puffed a laugh.

"We're not. Those cities are extremely old and the people that runs them pay good money to ensure their sort of safety, kind of like a tax to the House that own the territory they're on. But they know that all it takes is a small offence and the whole of their population will be sold to slavery."

Qadir glanced back at the humans. It made sense now—their unease, the subtle tension in their movements, the way they seemed to barely breathe in the presence of the vampires. They weren't just here as guests; they were here to maintain peace, paying their dues with their attendance and silence. They were allowed to exist on the periphery of vampire society, so long as they didn't overstep. And that's why they looked so out of place.

Silia tilted her head toward them. "They don't matter much in the grand scheme of things, but they're good at keeping things running smoothly. Less trouble, more money for the Kadijan."

"And the vampires leave them alone because they're useful." Qadir added, more to himself than to her.

"Exactly. It's all about balance. They give us what we want, and in exchange, we let them live." She shrugged, as if it were the most natural arrangement in the world. "But like I said, all it takes is one slip-up, and... well, you get the idea."

"Does your family own some as well?"

"Human cities?" She asked as he nodded. "Not really." She made a face. "We have a few smaller villages. There is a big human city within our territory but we don't actually own it. The Kadijan does, actually." Qadir frowned, waiting for her to continue.

"I don't really know the why and how, I wasn't born back then. But basically, my House needed quick money and the Kadijan saw the potential of that city. So, they bought it. Now they get all the resources from it as well as the tax." She shrugged her shoulder, the explanation clearly starting to bore her.

"Sorry Qadir, you didn't fall into the wealthiest family." She smirked, her gaze glancing at him. "Still better than what you had before, right?"

"You have no idea." Qadir smirked back, casting one last dark glance at the human mayors. He wondered if any of them truly understood the tenuousness of their position or if they convinced themselves they had some semblance of power. Might be a mix of the both, just as for him.

"Well, well. If it isn't Silia Nandor." The voice was smooth, laced with a kind of mocking familiarity that immediately irked the girl. Qadir noticed a vampire approaching them as Silia still faced him. She rolled her eyes before taking a breath, slowly turning over, already recognizing the voice before she even saw the face.

Her expression remained neutral, but everyone could catch the flicker of annoyance in her eyes as she faced the newcomer. "Marko." She simply stated.

The vampire who approached was tall, with sharp features and dark hair slicked back. His lips curled in a smirk that didn't reach his eyes, which roamed over Silia with a familiarity that suggested they had met before—perhaps not on the best terms. His gaze flicked to Qadir briefly, but with a casual disdain that made it clear he found the human unimportant.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" The vampire continued, his tone dripping with false friendliness. "I almost didn't recognize you. I thought you'd retired from these events—too many accidents, if I remember correctly?" His grin widened, the dig at her past behavior not lost on her.

"I didn't realize you kept such a close watch on my presence. Should I be flattered?" Silia raised an eyebrow.

Marko laughed, though it was more of a sneer. "Oh, trust me, no one's watching you that closely. Hard to keep track of someone who spends most of their time in the shadows."

"And yet, there you are." She simply stated.

Qadir wasn't sure what to expect of the evening regarding Silia, but he did think she had been a bit dramatic when explaining that trouble would basically find its way to her. But that's what these people did. Vampires, as proud as they could be, were nonsensical creatures that constantly craved the feeling of being above.

"So, after all these years, still the same state. What's it like being the family embarrassment? Tell me about it." He asked, clearly amused by himself as he took a sip from his glass. The red buzzling drink making its way through his throat sharply.

Silia's expression didn't falter, but her eyes flashed dangerously. "I'd rather you tell me all about how your uncle stole your House's gold a flew with a turned-vampire. Now, that's embarrassing, but very Kovač's like." She smiled softly.

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but he recovered quickly, now turning his attention to Qadir, clearly deciding to change tactics. His gaze lingered on the human's neck, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "And speaking of embarassment... What's this?" Marko's voice took on a mockingly sweet tone. "That's the company you keep?"

"A human and you." She corrected, wishing it would be enough for this idiot to go away. "I'm full of surprises, aren't I?" She ironized.

But the vampire wasn't done. His smile widened, taking obvious pleasure in her irritation. "You are. For someone who can't make a proper bite still, that is." he added, his gaze flicking meaningfully toward Qadir's throat.

Qadir's eyes narrowed at the sudden attention, though he was obviously not the one Marko was trying to irk. Before Silia could reply, a familiar voice stopped her.

"How about you worry about your own neck?" Qadir darted back, his expression and tone holding the same casualness neutrality he wore so well.

Silence fell upon the three, short realization that the voice came, indeed, from the bloodslave standing besides Silia.

Marko's smile vanished, his amusement replaced by something colder and more dangerous. His posture shifted, his shoulders squaring as if preparing for a fight. "What did you say, human?" His fangs flashed as he took a step forward, his predatory nature seeping into the space between them.

Before Marko could get any closer, Silia swiftly moved. In a heartbeat, she was standing in front of Qadir, her small frame deceptively imposing as she faced the other vampire head-on.

"Touch him." Silia said, her voice low and threatening, "And you'll be dying tonight."

Marko's eyes narrowed back to the girl, his arrogance faltering slightly, but he wasn't about to back down so easily. "You think you can make that happen, Silia? Everyone knows you're weak. You're all bark and no bite."

Silia's lips curled into a smirk; her gaze unwavering. "Can you bet that?"

There was a dangerous glint in her eyes, one that made even Marko hesitate. Silia wasn't known for her strength—far from it. But she was infamous for her temper and her unpredictability. She had caused more than one scene at gatherings like this and the consequences of challenging her could easily spiral out of control, more for him than for her.

The small crowd close to them was starting to notice, too. A few heads turned, eyes flicking in their direction, sensing the brewing tension. Marko's smirk faltered as he glanced around, suddenly aware of the attention they were drawing. This wasn't a place to make a scene—not with the Kadijan so close, and certainly not with the potential of royal eyes on them. Though he appeared to be the only one that cared.

Silia, as if reading his mind, pressed the advantage. Her voice was calm, almost conversational. "You might want to rethink this, Marko. You wouldn't want the Kadijans stepping in, would you? Or worse—imagine what they'd think if you couldn't even handle someone like me."

Marko's eyes flicked between Silia and the gathering crowd. With a final sneer, he stepped back, his expression darkening. "You're lucky tonight, Silia. But this isn't over."

Silia didn't respond, simply watching him with cold eyes as he turned and walked away, melting back into the crowd. She thought things might have changed, but she fell right back onto place. The tension slowly dissipated, though the few lingering onlookers quickly returned to their own conversations, pretending nothing had happened.

Qadir let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "That was... something."

Silia turned to him, her smirk returning, though there was still a hint of frustration in her eyes. "I told you; these events are always a pain."

"Seems like you have a talent for making enemies."

"And you for not being able to keep your mouth shut." She muttered annoyingly, though there was no real anger from it.

"I think we both share the two." She shrugged; her expression unreadable. Then, after a bit, she added quietly, "I think you should go hang with the others humans." She nodded at the clear space reserved for bloodslaves, further into the room.

Qadir nodded back, sensing the weight of the evening still hanging over them. It wasn't just about avoiding trouble—it was about surviving the intricate web of politics, power plays, and ego that surrounded them. And for now, it might be better for him to be around his own.