The carriage rattled along the road as Silia leaned back against the plush seat, her thoughts still lingering on the evening's events. She recalled snippets of laughters, the swirl of dresses, the stiff smiles exchanged across the ballroom. There had been a dance—one she had watched from the edge of the hall, her gaze following the elegant movements of the nobility, though she never joined herself. It was easier that way, to avoid drawing unnecessary attention, though she did have wished she had gone for it.

Silia shifted her attention from the distant thoughts and turned her head slightly. Across from her, Qadir was leaning against the window, his eyes closed. He had fallen asleep barely minutes after getting on. It surprised her—she realized she'd never actually seen him sleep before, not this up close. It wasn't the vulnerability of sleep that struck her, but rather how calm he looked, as if he were simply resting his eyes while staying fully aware. There was no tension in his face, no signs of worry or exhaustion. He looked exactly as he did when awake: composed, assured, almost indifferent. Slightly gentler though.

The carriage slowed as they approached the castle and soon they came to a stop at the grand entrance. Silia waited until one of the slaves opened the door, slightly nudging Qadir's knees with her feet, before stepping out into the cold night air. He followed closely behind, his eyes a bit strained still from the sudden pull. The warmth and noise of the ball had already faded, leaving only the quiet, imposing presence of the castle, her home, before them.

Silia took a deep breath, ready to retreat to her chambers and finally rest, but before she could even make a move towards the stairs, she noticed her uncle and aunt standing near the entrance, waiting. The couple regarded her with a sense of urgency, their eyes narrowing slightly as they caught her gaze. Dacian motioned for her to follow, his expression brokering no argument.

Silia stifled a sigh, her shoulders drooping slightly. She wanted nothing more than to escape to her bed, to slip out of the gown that now felt heavy and stifling, and let the exhaustion of the evening wash over her. But there was no denying them. Silia swallowed her irritation, nodding to Qadir. "Go to your quarters." She hushed, her voice gentle. He gave her a brief look before heading inside, leaving her alone with her relatives.

The castle was silent, save for the muffled sound of their footsteps echoing against the stone floors. She wondered how late it was. They entered one of the many salons, the room dimly lit by a few candles that left corners of the room swallowed in shadows. Dacian gestured for her to sit, and Silia complied, sinking into the plush seat while her aunt remained standing.

"Silia." The Earl began, his tone measured. "We need to speak about your interaction with Princess Irina tonight."

Silia raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. "What about it?" She had been here many times, at this late hour after major events, discussing her acts and thoughts with the heads of her family. But she didn't expect tonight to follow upon that tradition.

Lady Mihaela's eyes narrowed; her tone sharp. "You were seen speaking with her. We want to know what was discussed."

Silia bit back a sigh, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Nothing of importance." She replied, her voice carefully controlled. "We exchanged pleasantries, as is expected at events like this." Why would I even tell them anything about it, she thought.

Earl Dacian frowned, clearly unsatisfied. "You were seen in conversation with her for quite some time. Surely it wasn't just pleasantries."

Silia met his gaze, her expression unyielding. "If you want to hear about meaningless small talk, then I can oblige. We spoke on the weather and on how she liked my dress." She could feel her patience waning, the exhaustion of the night making it harder to maintain her composure through her lies.

Her aunt's lips pressed into a thin line. "She liked... Your dress?" She asked back, almost in disbelief. Silia nodded absently. "Well. Did you tell her where it was from?" She pushed, her gaze holding something almost foreign to the girl.

"Sure... Gave her the seamstress's name and everything." She muttered. On a normal occasion, neither of her relatives would've believed that. But it was a shocker enough when they turned around, back at the ball, to the sight of Silia out of every being holding basic conversation with the Royal emissary. They saw the Princess smile, even!

"Dear, can you believe it?!" Her aunt purred; her hand trailing on her husband's shoulder. "What if the Princess starts shopping into one of our towns?" If Silia wasn't so tired, she'd swear she saw starts into her aunt's eyes.

Her uncle, although clearly not as delighted as his wife, did left a small nod of acknowledgement. "Is that all?" Silia asked, her tone colder than she intended. She just wanted this conversation to end, to leave the room and the scrutiny behind.

"You may." Her aunt waved her hand, entirely dismissing the girl, already lost into her own aspirations.

Silia turned without another word; her steps quick as she left the salon. As she opened the door, she almost bumped heads with... Meyena. What on Earth... She thought. She looked at her cousin in disbelief, the newly found obsession with knowing whatever had been discussed between her and the Princess seeming to take a toll on everybody.

"Freak." She muttered, contouring her as she made her way above.

"Takes one to know one." Meyena's eyes narrowed as she shot back. The hint of slight embarrassment present in her tone.

Silia ignored her, her steps not faltering as she ascended the staircase. The encounter left a bitter taste in her mouth, her cousin's pettiness only adding to her frustration. They all thought themselves better, but now suddenly, everyone was so interested over whatever it was they expected her to be a part of.

She reached her room, pushing the door open with a sigh. The space was quiet, dimly lit by the soft glow of a lantern on her bedside table. Silia closed the door behind her, letting the silence wrap around her like a comforting embrace. She leaned against the door for a moment, her eyes closing as she tried to push the evening out of her mind.

She was home and it was all over. With that thought, she moved to her bed, sitting down on the edge and letting out a long breath.

. . .

When she woke up the next morning, she hadn't seen Qadir around. Shrugging, she went on about her day. She took her time getting dressed, choosing something comfortable—an outfit that allowed her to move freely without worrying about appearances. Noticing a small stain on the clothes she picked, she sighed. Silia always had a liking for white and light-colored garments, but they were easily dirtied.

The hours that followed dragged on slowly, blending into one another. She wandered the halls of the estate, searching for anything that might hold her interest. She browsed the library but found nothing she hadn't read before. She briefly considered practicing her needlework but quickly discarded the idea. It wasn't something she enjoyed, just another skill she had drilled into her that served no real purpose beside making time flows.

She had already spent her morning into the garden. So instead, she found herself in one of the living room, staring out the window at the courtyard below, watching servants bustle about their tasks, their lives far busier than hers.

Silia sighed. This was her life—wandering through empty halls, waiting for something to happen. At least, as stressful as it was, the ball gave her a glimpse of social life for a while again. Qadir's arrival, which seemed now a distant memory but wasn't actually that long ago, had also brought her a sense of novelty.

The novelty, however, was wearing off. Qadir had his own tasks, thanks to her, and as much as he remained her bloodslave, he wasn't always there to fill the empty hours. Plus, she was scared that if the two were seen spending too much time together, it would give her family leverage against her.

He was so boring, though. She had hoped that maybe they could talk, that he would rant to her about his different conversations at the ball. But he was gone—likely out doing whatever it was he did when he wasn't around her. Working on the expansion site, she remembered.

She walked to a shelf filled with old trinkets, most of them gifts from the family. She picked up a small carved wooden figurine, running her fingers along its surface. A gift from her uncle, years ago. It had been handed to her with a smile that hadn't reached his eyes, and even back then, Silia had known it was an empty gesture. She put the figurine back, feeling the weight of its insignificance.

She returned to the window, resting her forehead against the cool glass. The servants continued their work, each with a purpose, each with a role to play. She envied them, in a way. At least they were needed. Silia, despite her title, had no real role here. She was just... existing. The hours seemed to stretch endlessly before her, filled with nothing but waiting for anything to break the monotony.

After a bit, Silia wandered toward the grand staircase, her feet carrying her almost unconsciously to one of the few places where she could sometimes find something of interest.

As she approached, she heard laughter drifting up from below—voices she recognized. Meyena, Seyan, and Asen, her cousins, were gathered in one of the salons. She slowed her steps, staying hidden behind one of the marble pillars, looking down from the small balcony that overlooked the sitting area.

She watched them, half-curious, half-envious. They were seated comfortably, chatting among themselves, laughter punctuating their words. Meyena was leaning back in her chair, a playful smile on her face as she teased Seyan about something Silia couldn't quite hear. Seyan rolled his eyes in mock exasperation, but there was a grin there too. Asen chimed in, adding a comment that made them all laugh.

They looked... happy. Relaxed. Their lives were filled with each other, with camaraderie and shared jokes, a closeness that Silia had never really been a part of. She could hear the lightness in their voices, the lack of tension, the ease of simply being around one another. It was so different from how she felt when she was with them—or with anyone in the family, for that matter.

Silia sat on the ground, leaning against the railing as she watched silently. There was a pang in her chest, an ache that she tried to ignore. She didn't like her cousins, and they didn't like her either. They had always made a key point to make her life miserable, and she had stopped hoping for their friendship long ago. But still, seeing them now, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to belong. To be part of their world, even if just a little.

She pulled her eyes away from them, focusing on the intricate patterns carved into the white wooden railing beneath her fingers. It didn't matter, she told herself. She didn't need them, and she certainly didn't need their laughter. But the truth was harder to swallow, sitting heavy in her chest as she listened to their carefree voices below.

Suddenly, the creak of footsteps on the stairs caught her attention. She looked up quickly, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw Qadir making his way up. He was carrying a bucket in one hand, his gaze focused ahead, clearly unaware of her presence.

"Pssst!" She called out quietly. He paused, turning his head in the direction of the sound as his eyes narrowed, scanning the upper floor.

"Qadir!" She whispered again, her voice just loud enough to reach him.

He looked up and his eyes landed on her, kneeling over the staircase, hidden behind the railing. She motioned for him to come over, her hand waving urgently. He raised an eyebrow, but started walking towards her nonetheless, his steps cautious.

When he got closer, she gestured again, this time pointing down, urging him to kneel. He rolled his eyes, but complied, dropping to his knees beside her.

"What are you doing exactly?" He asked, his voice low, a hint of curiosity mixed with confused exasperation.

Silia's eyes flicked towards the bucket he was carrying. "What's in that bucket?" She asked, glancing at it.

"Paint." He replied simply. "I was told to bring it up."

Silia's eyes lit up with interest. She looked at the bucket intensely, then glanced down at the floor below, where Meyena, Seyan, and Asen were still talking, oblivious to the world above them.

Qadir noticed the direction of her gaze and followed it, spotting her cousins gathered in the living room. He snorted, a grin forming on his lips. "Don't tell me..."

"Yes." she whispered, her lips curling into a mischievous smile as she reached for the bucket.

Qadir gave her a long look, one that conveyed both disapproval and amusement. "You know this is going to end badly. Don't you have anything else to do?"

"I don't, actually." She replied after thinking a bit. "And neither do you." She added, motioning for him to come closer.

Qadir watched her for a moment, the look on her face, the eagerness in her eyes. It was rare to see Silia this animated for anything. He sighed, shaking his head as he let go of the bucket, allowing her to take it.

She carefully took the bucket from his hands, her fingers steady as she positioned it over the edge of the railing. Qadir leaned closer, watching her closely, his eyes flicking between her and the unsuspecting cousins below.

"Meyena or my brother... Hmm..." She thought aloud.

"Aren't you worried they'll kill you?"

"I'm used to it." She smirked, smiling as she turned the bucket over. "It's worth it."

The three were still chatting, their laughter echoing up through the open space. Silia focused, her heart pounding in her chest as she tilted the bucket, just enough for the paint to begin spilling over the edge. The thick liquid dribbled down, the dark color contrasting against the light cushions below.

The first drops landed on Meyena's shoulder, causing her to freeze, her laughter cutting off abruptly. She turned her head, confusion etched on her face as she looked down at the stain spreading across her dress.

Qadir bit the inside of his cheek, suppressing a laugh as Silia carefully let more paint fall, a few drops splattering on Seyan's arm as well. Meyena's face twisted in anger, her eyes widening in disbelief. He had been trying to seduce Meyena then and there, but God did he know how annoying that vampire was. And so were her cousins.

"What—" She began, her voice rising in pitch. "What is this?!"

Silia ducked lower, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter as she watched her cousin's furious reaction. Qadir leaned closer, a grin on his face as he watched the scene unfold below. Asen's laughter could be heard from above, way louder than before.

Meyena stood up, her eyes narrowing as she looked around wildly. "Who did this?" She shouted, her voice echoing through the room. "Whoever's up there, you're fucking dead." She seethed.

Silia had to cover her mouth with her hand to stifle her laughter. Qadir, kneeling beside her, shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. He couldn't help it—it was too ridiculous.

"Come on." He said, his voice a low whisper. He grabbed Silia's arm, pulling her to her feet. They moved quickly, ducking low as they hurried down the hallway, Silia's laughter breaking free now that they were safely out of sight. She grabbed his hand, leading him back to her quarters swiftly.

They bursted through the door, Silia's smile still present as she turned to Qadir. "Quick, look out the window!" She hushed, pushing him towards the one facing the courtyard.

Qadir frowned, confused, but did as she asked. He walked over and peeked through the curtain; his curiosity piqued. Silia, meanwhile, rushed to her bed, grabbing one of her books and a pencil. She threw herself onto the mattress, flipping it open to a random page and holding the pencil upward.

"What exactly are we—" Qadir began, but Silia shushed him, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Just wait." She said, her voice low. "Three... Two... One..."

Right on cue, the door of her room flew open with a loud bang. Ivan stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury. "Was it you?" He demanded, his gaze locking on Silia, ignoring Qadir entirely. "Did you dump paint on Meyena?"

Silia didn't even glance up from her book, her pencil moving across the page as if she hadn't noticed her cousin's sudden entrance. "Paint? What are you talking about?" She asked, feigning confusion, her voice calm, almost bored.

Ivan's expression darkened as he stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "Don't play dumb, Silia. You're always pulling these stupid pranks." She sighed, finally looking up, her eyes meeting Ivan's.

"Ivan, I'm a bit busy right now. As you can see, I'm drawing." She held up the book, showing him the page—a detailed sketch of Qadir appearing, his profile captured with surprising accuracy, the lines careful and precise.

Qadir blinked, genuinely taken aback. He had no idea she could draw like that, let alone that she'd drawn him. He shot her a look, one eyebrow raised, but she kept her attention on her cousin.

Ivan, however, wasn't convinced. "This is ridiculous." He stated, though his anger seemed to falter as he looked at the drawing. "You always have some excuse, don't you? Always finding a way to get away with everything."

Silia shrugged, her expression unbothered. "For all you know, it's probably one of the human servants. Tell whoever did it I said congratulation." She smiled ironically. "Now for me, I've been here, drawing Qadir, as you can see. So if you don't mind..." She gestured towards the door, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Ivan stood there for a moment longer, clearly torn between wanting to argue further and knowing he wouldn't get anywhere. Finally, he huffed, turning on his heel. "You're impossible." He muttered as he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

The room fell silent for a moment, the tension lingering in the air before Silia let out a breath, her lips curving into a smile. Qadir looked at her, his eyes wide, before a chuckle escaped him, the sound growing into full laughter. "That was... Close." He said between laughs, shaking his head.

Silia grinned, setting the book aside. "Told you it'll be worth it." She added again and this time, Qadir couldn't help but agree, the both of them laughing together, the thrill of their shared mischief still fresh in their minds.

She let herself fall back on the bed as Qadir sat, as he was used to, in front of her against the opposed frame. The room fell silent again, their laughter fading into soft echoes. Silia stared up at the ceiling, still riding the high of their little prank. It had been a fleeting moment of fun, a brief escape from the monotony that had filled her morning. She could feel her heart still racing, not from fear but from the sheer thrill of it all.

Qadir sat across from her, his back resting against the opposite bed frame, one leg propped up. He looked relaxed; his usual stoic expression softened by the amusement that still lingered in his eyes. "You really don't care about getting into trouble, do you?" He asked, his voice low, but there was a hint of disbelief in it.

Silia shrugged; her eyes half-lidded as she glanced at him. "What's the worst they could do to me that they haven't already?" She said lightly, though there was an edge to her words. "Besides, it's not like I have anything better to do."

Qadir watched her for a moment, then allowed himself to ask. "Don't you have... I don't know, friends or something? A fiancé maybe?" He tried to make it sound casual, but he genuinely wondered. She remained a noble, surely she had someone.

"I'm obviously very lonely, Qadir." Silia replied boringly, I'll just kill him if the conversation gets too embarrassing, she thought, giving him a sideway glance.

Now that she mentioned it, Qadir realized that he had never seen her interact—beside at the ball, with anyone other than her family and their slaves. And those interactions were hardly friendly or warm. In a sense, she was a child still, desperate for attention of those around her.

The vampires of the estate treated her as if she didn't exist, except when she crossed some line they decided to enforce. When people weren't trying to literally murder her immortal self, they were plainly acting as if she wasn't there.

He glanced at her, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling still, her fingers playing with a loose thread on her sleeve. He wasn't someone who cared much about friends or companionship. He had been alone for so long that the concept of relying on someone else felt foreign, uncomfortable even. The people he used to care for, those he might have once called family, were long gone. He was a relic, an echo of something that no longer existed.

Maybe he was miserable. But when looking at her, so was she.

"Surely there's at least one person here who tolerates you." Qadir said, his tone half-joking.

"Right? That's what I thought too." Silia's voice was tinged with frustration as she agreed, raising herself back swiftly. "I've tried being nice, mean, funny, docile... Nothing works." She sighed heavily as she flopped back down onto her bed, her arms spread wide as if in surrender. "They only laugh with me when they harm me."

Qadir frowned, leaning forward slightly. "I don't think they're laughing with you." He corrected, his voice flat.

Silia turned her head to look at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Do you laugh with me? Or at me?" She asked, her tone innocently challenging.

Qadir hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Bit of both." He admitted, shrugging.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Silia's lips, her expression softening. "Then you're the one." She said, her voice quiet. He looked at her, confused. "The one?" He echoed.

"The one who tolerates me." She clarified, her smile widening just a bit though there was something sad about it.

Qadir blinked, taken aback by the simplicity of her words. He hadn't thought of it that way, but it was true. He tolerated her—he even liked her, in his own begrudging way. But the realization was sobering and he felt a pang of something unfamiliar, something almost like pity. A feeling he'd seem to feel already too often around the girl.

"That's... Surprisingly sad." He said, his voice softening as he looked down at his hands.

"Is it?" Silia frowned, as if she genuinely didn't understand why he would say that.

Qadir looked back at her, his expression serious. "I'm a slave." He said simply, the weight of those words hanging between them.

Silia nodded, her expression turning thoughtful. "Right." She said, as if she had momentarily forgotten. Silence fell between them, the weight of their words still hanging in the air. They remained like that for a bit, lost in their own thoughts, until Silia suddenly switched topics, her eyes meeting his again. "Did you like the ball?" She asked, her tone casual.

Qadir leaned back, resting his back against the bed. "I've known better." He replied with a shrug. She narrowed her eyes at him, a skeptical smile tugging at her lips. "No, you didn't."

He huffed a quiet laugh. "It was alright, I guess. I didn't get into too much trouble, if that's what you're asking."

"Only a bit much?" Her eyes glinted with curiosity.

"Nothing that was worth coming into your ears. I'd say I'm alright." He said, offering a lopsided grin. She hummed, as if still unconvinced.

Qadir shifted, looking over at her. "Want to enlighten me on the people I spoke to?" He asked. There was a hint of genuine interest in his voice, a rare thing from him.

Silia gave a small shrug, her eyes watching him. "I can try."

"There was this kid who looked like me, said his Master was Altan from House Tareq?"

Silia nodded. "It doesn't surprise me one of their humans came to talk to you. They're a close House to ours; most of the territories near the sea are theirs and we've been trading with them forever." She paused for a moment, then added, "Actually, you spoke of a fiancé. Their House wanted to marry into ours to solidify our bond but since they only had sons, it was either me or Meyena. Obviously, her parents are looking for higher Houses to marry her off to."

Qadir raised an eyebrow. "So, you're engaged?"

She shook her head, her expression turning a touch bitter. "Sadly, no. They'll never allow me to marry. My husband would know eventually, that I'm... Sick. It's the peak humiliation they're not willing to risk. Of course, they gave other reasons to House Tareq."

"With that logic, you're stuck here forever." Qadir remarked, his tone almost sympathetic.

Silia sighed, her gaze dropping to her hands. "Don't remind me." She muttered. As if wanting to escape her thoughts, she looked back at him. "Spoke to anyone else?"

He nodded. "A human from House Kadijan."

Silia's expression immediately soured. "Let me guess: deeply arrogant, doesn't know his place, thinks he's above everybody?" Qadir nodded eagerly, an amused grin on his face. "Exactly."

"They're known for it. Their bloodslaves, I mean. The Kadijans always seem to think they're above everyone else but a selected few, that passes on to their humans." She said, her voice dripping with disdain. She paused for a moment, her eyes narrowing. "I wish I had killed one of theirs instead of Duke Bekim's."

"You killed the bloodslave of that vampire who made a toast?" Qadir asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"Didn't mean to, really." She said, her tone casual, as if it was a minor inconvenience. But even he knew it was far from it.

Qadir gave her a long look before shrugging. "The only other significant person I talked with was Ruvan. He's the Princess's bloodslave."

Silia shot up from her relaxed position, her eyes widening. "You spoke with him? Wow."

"Don't get all worked up." Qadir said, rolling his eyes. "I saw you speak with her as well."

Silia hesitated, her expression shifting to something almost uncertain. "I didn't mean to. Can you believe she knew my name... And even my age? I still don't understand what went through her head, but..." She shrugged; her eyes distant as she thought about it.

"You've never spoken to her before?" Qadir asked, genuinely curious.

She shook her head. "No. I think she was looking for friends. She was really nice—told me she was forced to attend the ball as well."

Qadir snorted. "Yeah, I saw you laugh with her."

"It's weird to think the only person who made me feel like her equal that night was a literal member of the Royal family. She felt awfully approachable. I hope I'll see her again."

Qadir tilted his head, watching her closely. "Maybe, but you shouldn't let your guard down just yet. Royalty always have their own agenda in mind, even if they seem harmless."

"You're right, I shouldn't get any hopes up." Silia gave a short laugh, her eyes flickering to him. "Look at you, counseling me and everything. Who would have thought someone of your reputation could be so useful." She ironized.

Qadir didn't respond right away. He just looked at the girl, his expression unreadable. He had often seen her as a troublemaker. Now, he realized even vampires didn't do well with solitude, surprisingly. Or maybe it was just her.

"I could tell you the same." He replied as she smiled naively.