Night slowly claimed the land of Virelle, draping the palace in shadows and silence. In the servants' quarters, tucked away from gilded halls and watchful eyes, Miravel and Olivia occupied the small room they had shared since they were young girls.
Miravel stood by the narrow window, methodically braiding her hair as moonlight traced the sharp line of her profile. Her green eyes were distant, fixed on nothing and everything all at once. Across the room, Olivia sat on her cot, absentmindedly hovering her palm above the candle flame, watching the smoke curl and stain her skin before she wiped it away.
Neither of them spoke until Olivia finally broke the quiet.
"Sometimes I wish I could escape this place and go back home," Olivia sighed, her gaze fixed on the thin ribbon of smoke curling from her palm. "I wonder if Nana is still alive." There was a soft ache in her voice. After a pause, she added quietly, "I miss her."
Like most of the servants within the palace, Olivia had been captured by slave traders and shipped across the sea into the land of vampires. She had been raised by her grandmother after the loss of her parents, growing up wrapped in a love that had never truly left her. Even now, after all this time, she clung to the hope that one day she would escape and return home.
Miravel did not respond at once. She, too, had wished for freedom countless times, but unlike Olivia, she had nowhere to run to. There was no home waiting for her, no one who would welcome her return. If she went back, she would likely be met with death rather than open arms.
"You still have a chance," Mira said softly at last. "I overheard Prince Samuel speaking earlier. The war that is coming will be a large one. Everyone will be focused on it." She hesitated before adding, "It would be easier to slip away then. You could leave with Hilda and Gabriel. They are planning to escape before the end of the month."
Olivia turned fully toward her, pulling her hand away from the candle. "What about you?" she asked, her voice suddenly serious.
"I don't think it would be wise for me to run," Mira replied. "As much as I dislike this place, it is the safest one for me right now."
She finished braiding her hair and tied the end with a small blue ribbon before moving to her cot.
"Won't it be even more dangerous for you to stay now that your magic is starting to show?" Olivia pressed. "You should come with us."
Mira sighed. Over the past month, her magic had begun to surface more frequently, something she could no longer ignore. Magic required training to control, and as a fae hiding among vampires, discovery would mean certain death.
Having been brought to the palace at the same age, sharing the same room for years, Miravel and Olivia had learned to trust each other with truths they dared not share with anyone else. Their friendship had grown into something closer to sisterhood, and Olivia was the only one who knew of Mira's secret.
"I will just… be careful," Mira said quietly.
She lay back on her cot and pulled the covers around herself. A moment later, Olivia spoke again.
"If you are staying, then I can't leave you here alone."
Mira parted her lips to argue, but Olivia continued before she could speak.
"I'll make my escape later. Once we figure out how to control your magic." She paused, then added gently, "Good night, Mira."
Mira said nothing more. She knew Olivia well enough to understand that once she had made up her mind, no words would change it.
*****
The following day, Mira spent most of her hours in the attic alongside three other maids, sorting through forgotten belongings and carrying away anything deemed useless enough to be discarded.
The attic was dim and heavy with age, its slanted windows allowing thin bars of light to cut through the dust-filled air. The work was slow and tedious, but the silence did not last long.
"Have you noticed how tense the palace has been lately?" one of the maids murmured as she pushed aside a broken chair. "Prince Samuel has been in a foul mood for days now."
"He has every reason to be," another replied quietly. "With war approaching, everyone says Virelle is at a disadvantage. Our soldiers are fewer, and the neighboring kingdom has grown stronger."
"I heard he snapped at one of the generals yesterday," Nora added, lowering her voice as if the walls might listen. "Stormed out of the council room like a thundercloud."
Mira listened but did not join in. She moved quietly from one corner to another, gathering old linens and shattered trinkets, her thoughts elsewhere. Conversations like these were common whenever fear lingered in the palace air.
A sudden laugh cut through the murmurs.
One of the maids had stepped on something solid and bent down, lifting an old framed painting from beneath a pile of discarded cloth. She blew dust from its surface, coughing lightly as she did so.
"Are we meant to throw this away too?" she asked while holding it up.
Nora walked closer, squinting. "What is it?"
"It's a painting of Lady Rosetta."
Mira turned at once.
Four years had passed since Lady Rosetta's death, yet the woman in the portrait looked untouched by time. She appeared young, perhaps no older than twenty, her expression soft and distant, as though caught between hope and sorrow.
"She was really beautiful," one maid said in quiet awe.
"You should have seen her son," another added. "He looked just like her. Exactly the same." Her voice dropped. "Such a shame they both died so young."
Mira remained silent, but her chest tightened. She felt bad for the woman who died still claiming that her son was still alive.
The only moments Mira had ever seen Lady Rosetta smile were when she sat in the garden, gently stroking the orange-furred cat the king had gifted her. The animal was often the only living presence beside her.
Mira looked at the painting for a moment longer before turning back to her task, the weight of a sorrow that was not hers settling quietly in her chest.