The train rattles. Through the glass, the world changes from southern fall to northern winter. Vibrant leaves grasping to fall like a dying breath vanish and ice overtakes the fields. The rapidly turning wheels disturb the snow and frost slithers across the windows like overgrown weeds. There’s a sitting area with throw pillows and two beds, separated on either side of the compartment where I’ve taken one nap already. Now, we’re nearly to the capital.

“Don’t be nervous,” Harvey says. A newspaper hovers before him. An aged finger flips through the pages. “I have handled the paperwork for your relocation and the protection of your home. Once we reach the capital, I will escort you to meet with His Majesty.”

His Majesty.

The foreign title has yet to take, nor can I imagine who this man is. He is meant to be Sylas, the boy who stuttered when nervous and couldn’t meet a stranger’s gaze. A boy who wove a necklace and flattened flowers slaughtered the Undying King and four of his five children, then overtook the throne. It doesn’t sit right, although I am not one to judge. I’ve made grave decisions of my own.

When the train stops, Harvey leads me onto a busy platform. The capital of the Benait Kingdom is utter chaos. I’ve been to cities before, but it has been so long that I have forgotten their suffocating atmosphere. The bustling crowd moves with the precision of worker bees. All the noise wrecks my senses, smells too. My eyes water and my nose twitches from too many aromas. I don’t know where to look, taken by bright colors of whipping skirts and long coats, the tapping of shoes on streets, and carriage wheels turning. We’re in one now, but even the carriage walls cannot stop the onslaught of city life.

Every moment, I worry a little more. Will Sylas recognize me? Does he still care or has he forgotten about the money? Will my presence disappoint him?

My nerves could disassemble a mountain by the time the carriage stops. Harvey steps out and I nearly trip from the awe-inspiring view.

My memory of Sarraze Manor is utterly dull in the face of this castle. High steeples threaten the heavens. When closer inspected, the black stones carry red streaks like dried blood. Snow coats the rooftops and ice dangles from watchful gargoyles. Intricate carvings of stars and moons guide us to the thick iron doors containing a surprising symbol; a large phoenix set ablaze, circling around itself. That is the Sarraze house symbol.

Though I heard of Viktor Yarvelis’ death, many in my kingdom simply called his successor the new Undying King or some form of bastard. I hadn’t paid too much attention, but seeing that symbol and knowing Sylas kept Sarraze as his surname causes a strange sense of pride to swell in my heart.

“Staff will take your belongings to your room and I will show you to your quarters later. Right now, I would like us to greet His Majesty,” Harvey says.

“What if he dismisses me immediately?” I follow Harvey through the doors into the warm castle’s embrace.

“He will not, although I will warn you he is often in…” Harvey cracks his neck to the side, “turbulent moods, so do expect foul language and potential shouting, more likely directed toward me. Fear not, I am accustomed to it.”

It is strange to hear how much Sylas has changed. Though a decade has passed, I expected some parts of him to be at least similar, or rather I hoped they would be. First loves are funny like that, a piece remains with you, always.

“I won’t be able to give you a tour, but I will introduce you to Alyssa. She’s Head of Staff for His Majesty’s housing quarters. She will go over any rules and job expectations. Sometime tomorrow, I will take you to my office where I spend most of my days. Just know that you can always come to me, if needed, and I will check in. Also, I think it would be best if you do not mention your relations to His Majesty. We shall say that we first met in your hometown when I was assisting healers during the Weeping Plague. I was traveling at the time, so that should quench anyone’s curiosity.”

“Do you think His Majesty would be upset if others learned we knew each other?” I ask.

“His Majesty doesn’t speak much about his past, so yes, I think he would be upset. At least this way, we aren’t revealing anything. Better to be safe than sorry, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Absolutely,” I mutter, too taken by our surroundings to think much more.

The castle has high ceilings and long walkways with more rooms than I can count. Open doors reveal luxury within, thick drapes and stained glass windows, astounding wallpaper and crown molding too detailed to appreciate from a distance. The vastness of the space brings about paranoia that I know to be ridiculous. How many hiding places there are, how easy it would be to disappear without notice.

My past is far from me, an entire kingdom away. Do not fret over it so much.

“Here we are.” Harvey stops outside a set of ebony doors with long silver handles inset with rubies. My stomach lurches when Harvey knocks and announces himself.

“Enter.” A deep voice, gravely and irritated, comes from within.

Harvey presses open the doors to reveal a wide office with tinted windows. Sunlight irritates vampires, so it isn’t surprising that candle light illuminates the corners of the office.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty. I hope no trouble has arisen while I was on my trip,” Harvey says in a sing-song voice. I follow him into the room, shutting the doors behind us.

The Undying King’s figure looms over a sturdy mahogany desk. Two curved candle holders decorate the edges and countless papers lay strewn about. A handful of papers are pinched between the king’s clawed fingers, pale as I remember them to be. His expression, however, belongs to a stranger.

“A trip you took without notice or explanation,” Sylas snarls. Deep lines cover his sharp expression, making his feline-like eyes narrow further. Their furious red, more vibrant than any gem, catches the light and sets it ablaze.

When Sylas stands, there is an uncanniness to his tall stature, for vampires are always slightly off. Their limbs are a tad too long, eyes more feline than human, ears slightly pointed, and fangs peeking behind their lips when they speak. His clothes carry the night, shadows fitted perfectly to his wide shoulders and thin waist. He looks every part the Undying King, one of the great vampire lords ruling over the Benait Kingdom for as long as history remembers.

“I apologize for that. I had my reasons, as you will learn in a moment.” Harvey gestures for me to step closer.

I do so, and Sylas pins me with his gaze. My breath catches, though I’m not entirely sure why. Because there he is and, even after thirteen years, I know it’s him. Behind the dark expression and snarling lips, those red eyes and the raven hair curled slightly at the ends remain.

My mind plays tricks on me. We’re back at the estate, two young teens laying under the stars. My finger brushes his hand and his pinky locks with mine. When we look at each other, every word we never shared suddenly becomes clear. I don’t know who moved in first, only that we kissed and it was messy, nervous, and wonderful.

Then the vision vanishes, and I’m enraptured by Sylas’ vicious attention.

“You need an attendant, Your Majesty,” Harvey’s voice does little to break the tension. “After the abrupt firing of your previous attendant, I took it upon myself to find a new one for you. Mr. Laywell was kind enough to speak with me and has agreed to the position. I thought you may feel more comfortable with someone you know.”

“Get out,” Sylas growls, and the words are directed at me. He may as well have hit me. That would have hurt less than an immediate dismissal. But I have stood in the face of disappointment more times than I can count, so it does not send me away.

“I know you did not ask for me to be here, Your Majesty, but I sincerely hope that I may stay, even if it is not as your personal attendant,” I say alongside a careful step forward. I have a million questions to ask, but they fall silent upon my tongue, stifled by his furious attention.

“What makes you think you may make such a request?” Sylas’ words sting like a wasp.

“I have learned over the years that I must speak my mind or others will decide for me.”

“It is a king’s duty to make decisions for others. Perhaps you need to be reminded.”

“Any king makes decisions for his country, but good kings make decisions with his people in mind.”

Sylas snarls and Harvey tries to speak, but the Undying King holds up a hand to silence him immediately.

“Can I at least be granted a chance to prove my work ethic?” I ask, hands clasped behind my back to hide the nerves.

“No. You are not wanted nor needed.”

My teeth pierce the inside of my cheek. The taste of copper tickles the back of my throat as his voice rings in my ears; “No one wants you. No one needs you. You’re lucky I entertain you at all.”

Sylas takes a seat as if nothing has transpired, oblivious to my inner turmoil, to how my nails have pressed crescent shapes into my palm. He picks up the papers he had been eying earlier and speaks in a stern voice, “I dislike repeating myself. Mr. Laywell may stay for the evening, but tomorrow, you will escort him home, Harvey.”

“Your Majesty—”

“My decision is final.” Piercing crimson that flashes in the shadows of the room consumes Sylas’ eyes.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Harvey bows before escorting me out of the office.