Chapter 2
"But first things first, you need to start acting like a fragile lady, Sera. You're too stern," Freya said, crossing her arms.
Seraphina rolled her eyes. "Just great. Now I have to take acting lessons?"
"No need for that. I can pull it off," she shrugged, dismissing the idea entirely. There was no way she would sit through some ridiculous training on how to act weak. She wasn't weak, and she wasn't about to pretend to be. Who said she had to act fragile just to become a bloodsucker's bride?
Freya arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Can you patiently let someone scold you without throwing a fit? Even I, as your queen and elder sister, have to tread carefully when speaking to you. You won't last a day in that palace if you don't fix your temper. Don't forget, Sera, you're going in as a witch bride. They belittle and look down on us witches. Do you think they'll give you the free will to act as you wish?"
Her words stung because they were true. Seraphina's temper was her greatest flaw—the same temper that had scared off potential suitors and left her alone for centuries. But hearing it spoken so plainly grated on her nerves.
"Alright then, who's going to teach me how to act like a fragile lady?" she asked with a smirk.
"Me," Freya replied flatly.
---
The day of departure arrived, and the vampire king had sent a carriage to pick Seraphina up. The bastard didn't even have the decency to come himself. He probably didn't want to scare his bride away with his ugly face.
She hugged Freya one last time before stepping back. Her sister pulled away to inspect the dress she wore. The fabric was tight and heavy, making her feel uncomfortable. She rarely wore dresses, and this was a harsh reminder of why she avoided them.
"Take care," Freya whispered, embracing her again, this time so tightly that Seraphina could barely breathe. Over her shoulder, she could see the other witches who had gathered to bid her farewell. Pity filled their gazes, and she hated it.
"Freya, do you want to squeeze me to death?" she teased, tapping her gently.
Freya finally let go, but the moment Seraphina turned, she spotted Alicia sobbing uncontrollably. As Alicia's godmother, she knew the young girl would miss her the most—aside from Freya.
Lifting her gown slightly, Seraphina approached her with a soft smile. "Stop crying. You look hideous," she teased, pulling her into a hug.
Alicia only sobbed harder. "You're really leaving?"
"It's fine. I promise I'll return safe and sound," Seraphina assured her, patting her back gently. It seemed to work—Alicia sniffled and calmed down.
"Your Highness, it's time to leave," one of the vampire king's henchmen called out.
Seraphina pulled away, kissing Alicia's forehead before turning toward the carriage. As she stepped inside, she exhaled deeply, trying to steady her nerves.
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She hadn't cried since their mother passed away, and she wasn't about to start now. There was no reason to—she would return, no matter what.
The carriage hit the road, and Seraphina quickly grew impatient with the slow pace. She even asked the guard if she could just teleport to the vampire kingdom alone, but he insisted on following proper formalities. Like she cared. If she teleported, she would arrive in two hours. But with this carriage? The journey would take a full day.
As they neared their destination, her heart rate quickened. Was she nervous about meeting the vampire king, or was it the idea of marriage itself? She couldn't tell.
"We've arrived, Your Highness," the guard's voice woke her from her light slumber.
Her heart, which had calmed during the trip, started racing again. She was inside enemy territory now—not as an assassin but as a bride. The thought sounded absurd, yet it was her reality.
Stepping out of the carriage, she took in the grand sight before her. Night had already fallen, and the huge black gates of the vampire palace loomed ahead. Green stones shimmered along its surface, casting an eerie glow.
"Where's the king?" Seraphina asked, turning to the guard. She wasn't expecting a grand welcome, but shouldn't he at least be here to greet his bride? Did she mean so little to him?
"His Majesty is usually in meetings at this hour. The maids will escort you to your quarters. Once he's finished, he'll come to see you," the guard explained respectfully.
She was surprised he still spoke with courtesy, even though they had already left the witches' kingdom.
"Alright, I understand," she replied.
Just then, a group of maids exited the palace and approached her. They stood in formation before her and bowed deeply.
"Welcome, Your Highness," they greeted in unison.
Seraphina raised an eyebrow. This felt odd. She had expected hostility or at least cold indifference. Vampires looked down on witches, so why were they treating her with such respect?
Clearing her throat, she quickly regained composure. "Thank you," she said, keeping her tone soft but firm.
The maids lifted their heads to look at her, and the moment their eyes landed on her face, all of them gasped audibly.
A frown crept onto her face. Instinctively, she ran her fingers over her cheeks, checking for anything unusual. Was her makeup smudged?
"What's wrong? Is there something on my face?" she asked, her tone carrying a hint of irritation.
The maids exchanged glances before quickly looking down again.
Seraphina narrowed her eyes. That reaction didn't seem normal. There was definitely something wrong.
Stepping closer, she leaned toward one of the maids. "There's something on my face, isn't there?"
The young maid hesitated before slowly raising her gaze. Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at Seraphina up close.
Just what in the world was wrong with her face?