Margaret took a different path from her room. She didn't care where it led—anywhere was better than staying in that room that felt like it was closing in on her. She just needed to breathe. So she wandered into the left wing of the palace, the one no one ever used.
Her fists clenched at her sides, knuckles white. Her brow furrowed in a hard line as she marched down the corridor, footsteps echoing off cold marble. Today. The word stabbed at her. No matter how many times she said it in her head, it still tasted like betrayal.
Today. It was real.
"How could they?" she hissed, voice sharp with disbelief. "How could they do this to me?"
Her parents claimed it was for her own good. But there was nothing good about being forced into a life she didn't choose. Nothing noble about being used.
The crown weighed heavy—crushing, even—but she didn't cower beneath it. She was no ordinary girl. She was the daughter of a vampire and a goddess. That legacy burned in her blood, hardened her spine, sharpened her soul.
Let the world come. She would face it.
On her eighteenth birthday last year, her uncle Josiah—the most renowned blacksmith in all of Ravencreast—had gifted her a sword. She hadn't just cherished it; she'd learned to wield it. Her godfather, Sebastian, had trained her himself, despite her mother's disapproval.
Her father, the king, was always buried in royal affairs, but he had smiled at her and said, "My sweet Margaret, you can do whatever you wish. Wield a sword if you must. I just don't want you getting hurt."
And that was it.
For the past year, everything had felt steady. She wasn't afraid of the future.
King Draven—her father—was the strongest, fiercest vampire she knew. As long as he lived, the throne stood unshaken. But even kings don't rule forever. Sooner or later, the crown must pass.
She just hadn't expected it to be this soon.
And worse—she hadn't expected what would come with it.
"Ahh!" she growled, clutching the light blue floral ball gown as she bolted down the hallway. The space was dimly lit, but her vampire eyes cut through the dark with ease.
"Why now? Why today of all days?" she hissed, shooting a glare at the passing walls. "On my birthday? It's not fair."
Earlier that day, she had been deep in sword practice, fully focused, when her mother arrived—face cold, voice sharp—with the deadliest news.
Marriage.
Margaret fumed as the thought kept circling in her head. They wanted to stop her from doing what she loved most—swordsmanship. And worst of all, her father had sided with her mother.
"Margaret," he had said in that coaxing tone of his, "we don't want you stressing yourself. I can manage the throne and the people. But if you wish to rule someday, I won't stand in your way. What I'm saying is… you shouldn't spend your youth like this. Go out there. Fall in love."
"But I don't want to," she had pouted. "I don't want to give my love to anyone but you and Mother."
Her mother's voice cut in, firm and unyielding. "My dear Margaret," she had said, her piercing blue eyes locked onto her, "we won't choose a suitor for you. We've only invited the finest, noblest, strongest young men. You will choose from them. This is not up for debate. The ball is tonight."
She had turned to her father, hoping for help.
He only shrugged. "If you don't like any of them, my princess, we'll hold another ball. We just want your happiness."
My happiness? she screamed internally. Do they even know what makes me happy?
After all these years, didn't they see? She wanted to fight like the other vampires. She wanted to wield a sword like her godfather Sebastian.
"I'll hide," she growled under her breath, "from everyone and every eligible bachelor."
The hallway grew darker with every step. By the time Margaret reached the end, she nearly screamed—only to find herself face-to-face with a blank wall.
But then she saw it.
A door.
Small and almost invisible, camouflaged by the same dull grey as the wall.
She raised a brow. The left wing was mostly forbidden, and though she'd never explored it, she'd certainly never heard of a hidden door at its end.
It screamed danger.
Common sense told her to turn back. To return to her room where the maidens would finish dressing her for the ball.
But the ball terrified her.
"Maybe I could hide here," she whispered, a grin curling on her lips, eyes lit with sudden mischief. "At least until it's over."
No one would know she'd come here. And by the time they found her, the ball would be over, the eligible bachelors long gone and on their way home.
With that hope, she pushed the door open—and gasped.
The room was even darker, lit only by a single window where the moonlight spilled in through parted curtains. Still, her vampire sight caught every detail with perfect clarity.
It was lavish.
No bed. Just a large velvet settee near the window. But what truly drew her in were the flower vases in every corner—each one overflowing with red roses, lilies, and even cactus blooms.
"Wow…" she breathed, lips parting in awe. What is this place? A hidden garden? A quiet space to read and think?
Why had she never come here before?
Then again, why was a place like this even forbidden?
"What are you doing here?"
A voice hit her like a blade of ice.
She jolted, spinning toward the sound—but what met her eyes made her throat tighten.
She gulped.