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A glint in the horizon catches my attention as the first rays of sunlight bounce on something in the distance. I narrow my eyes, noticing the sharpness of my senses.
My father was right. There is power stirring within me.
I can hear the rustling of leaves on the morning breeze and see the shadows and colors of the mountainside with new clarity. But there, somewhere in the forest that surrounds the fortress, something moved. Hidden between the trees, there are shapes that were not there the night before, and I frown, leaning out the window to try and get a better look.
There! Between the cover of leaves and stone... what is that?
The nightwalker's territory is at the peak of the mountain, a fortified citadel accessible only through a stone bridge built directly into the jagged landscape. The bridge connects the main gate over a chasm in the mountainside to the rest of the world, and the rest of the citadel is surrounded by impenetrable walls and a deadly cliffside.
With a home like this, it's no wonder the nightwalkers were able to live in secret for as long as they did, the rest of the world believing vampires to be nothing more than a myth of the past or a bedtime story to frighten misbehaving children.
No one should be able to find them here.
So why is there a tent pitched at the base of the fortress, hidden in the trees? And there! Further behind it, where I saw movement earlier, there's another one.
A sudden knock at the door startles me so much I nearly fall through my window, and I slide off quickly, heart pounding and head racing with questions.
What's going on?
A tall woman with ancient eyes and a solemn expression opens the door. I recognize her as my father's healer and advisor, Helena.
"Apologies, my princess," she says, nodding in greeting. "I did not wish to disturb you at this hour."
"It's fine," I say quickly, draping a robe over my nightgown as I walk across the room to meet her. "I was awake already. Couldn't sleep. What is it?"
"Your father sent for you. It seems there is an army lurking at our doorstep."
"An army?" I repeat, staring at her with incredulity.
"They've shown no intention of attacking, but the situation is delicate. It's best if the King explains it to you, princess. He is waiting for us in the war room. I'll wait for you just outside while you get dressed, and we can-"
"No," I say, my voice soft but stern as I push past her. "Take me to him now."
There is an army surrounding the nightwalker's fortress. I just saw their tents in the forest with my own eyes. This is no time for propriety or prudishness. Nightwalkers may have an ancient, unhurried way of life, but I do not. I don't have time for vanity and pride right now. I need to know what's going on. I need to know if... if it's him...
It can't be.
"Very well, princess," Helena says, and the corner of her lips twitches in approval. The nightwalkers have a very subtle way of expressing their emotions, but I get the sense that she's pleasantly surprised by my reaction.
A few months ago, I would have cowered in bed, hiding under the covers and stuttering so badly I could barely get a word out. I still stutter sometimes, and I still feel the fear that slithers up my throat like an icy snake. But it no longer paralyzes me.
The memory of Tristan's voice echoes in the back of my head as I follow Helena through the halls of the castle.
'You fought for your freedom. You cannot blame yourself for what you didn't choose. Don't punish yourself for what you can't control. The only ones who should be ashamed are the ones who hurt you.'
'You have the scars of a survivor, flower.'
I am not the scared little girl that Viktor pushed down, and Oscar stepped on. I have been bullied, beaten, berated, and broken. I am the daughter of darkness, diamond of the night, and flower of the wolves. I'm more than my fear.
Helena pushes open a set of double doors. On the other side, my father stands in the center of the war room in front of a large table covered in maps and other documents. He wears his usual black suit, but he's frowning; his perfect expression is uncharacteristically drawn.
"Father? What happened?" I ask. "Helena said there's an army around the citadel. Who's out there?"
My father sighs, reaching for a simple wooden box I hadn't noticed on the table. It's about the size of a shoebox, with no markings or labels. He offers it to me with concern glinting in his blood-red eyes.
"Wolves."
No. It can't be. He wouldn't.
