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"It's good to see you in such health, your grace." The Count calls across the room. The butler holds back at the door waiting for something but I'm unsure. The Duke steps forward with a blank look. The Count drops his smile becoming an image of seriousness. Both move around each other with intention. I would compare it to two snakes making subtle threats, but only one will become strong enough to make the first strike.

The lack of emotion is concerning considering moments before he was giving me a break-taking smile and tracing over my skin with a fierce intent, "Quit the banter. Sit."

"Yes, your grace." The Count moves quickly to sit in the circle of chairs. Victor drops across from him crossing one leg over the other, then his arms, "I've brought the development plans for your ease." The man lays out a plan on the coffee table between them. I feel more than awkward just standing behind, but Irene doesn't move either. Eye candy? Why am I here? This is a moment between the Duke and Count that I feel I shouldn't be involved in. This is war discussions and military plans, so why would I be here? Should I ask to leave? Can I ask to leave?

"Let's discuss something more pressing before getting into your development plans." The Duke raises a hand towards Irene. With a quick instruction for me not to move, she rushes over grabbing a bottle of wine and two glasses for the men. With a beautiful pour, the men take like sips, however, the Count doesn't seem too focused on it as his eyes stay on me, "She is rather beautiful, isn't she?" The Duke cuts in. His words are deep, scratchy, it stirs a feeling inside that I've been trying to avoid since I first held his arm.

The Count acted as though he'd been struck to the face, "Y-Yes, your grace. She is beauty to behold."

The Duke hums into his glass, "Word has it you've spread intel to the opposing domain. This development you're planning would be a hub for treason within my people, your pockets lined with illegal profits. I've proof of all of this, but for the moment I'd encourage you to take your eyes off her and focus on me."

"I would never!" The man goes into defense. His eyes go crazy, the wine glass slammed on the table. Red is tossed over the plan mocking the look of blood spreading over land in war, "Your proof must be from a lying source. I've been loyal to you, the crown for years and more to come."

"Butler, please." The butler walks from the wall over to the coffee table. He reaches into his pocket pulling out a stack of images and tossing them over the spilled wine. Maybe twenty or thirty photos cover the table filled with evidence of the Count speaking with the colors of the opposing kingdom. The otherworld.

The vampires themselves aren't perfect. Two royal families break the Earth in half, and each group of people ruled in a very different way. While the humans on this side of the world: North America, South America, and Greenland all have some freedoms, the others don't. The poles are considered neutral ground neither kingdom having ruling power. It creates a somewhat safe place for trade negotiations and international travel for vampire families with their lavish vacations. The Dukes rule major domains, or Dukedoms, below the royals. With the expected death of the royal family in a few years and no produced heirs, the otherworld is attempting to gain more power. It's said a Duke will be chosen as the next heir to the throne, but the humans have nothing but a whisper of rumors to go by.

"You lie to my face after I offered the chance for truth. Are you aware I can tell when you're lying, Count? Even more so, are you aware of what the DeMoro family is capable of? I'm not one to flash my cards, but your false confidence and lack of honesty will get you killed, old friend." Victor looks relaxed. Nothing about him seems strained, or even the slightest bit concerned. I'm more terrified of him because of his lack of show. He's simply guiding the conversation while the Count is sweating bullets across from him begging for his neck to be spared. While confusion is sinking to my bones, I must admit this is entertaining, much more so than the business lectures I was always attending, "No matter. I have other things to attend to. Your son is ready and more fit for your position, I'll be sure to send a parting message."

And with a minor breeze through the room, the Duke removes his glove and slits the throat of the vampire Count with his nail. Unlike anything I've been taught, the Count starts to choke on his blood falling forward onto the floor. His sounds of death shake my soul while I watch the black, inky, blood spread over the vibrant carpet, "I'm so sorry." I whisper to no one as I run to a plant in the back corner of the room releasing everything in my stomach. A hangover, plus my first sight of death was the perfect combination to have me heaving apologies over and over until nothing but the shake of my body remained.

"Amanté, are you alright?" His ungloved hand lays over my clothed back rubbing small circles. I expected his touch to revolt me, send me into shock, anything but the warming comfort it brought. I physically feel my entire body relax under his touch and my dry heaving comes to a slow stop, "Handle him, and order a new rug."

"Yes, your grace." The male rings back as the Duke squats next to my head. Puke covers my bottom lip and I bet my breath is just as disgusting.

"I'll have Irene help you get cleaned up, then we'll go on that walk I promised you through the gardens. Don't worry much about the plant I'll send for a new one."

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