Cinder and Blood

4

There is nothing that can prepare a young lady for the Centurial Ball. No instructions are given to the guests except to arrive on time and to wear the appointed dress code as the First King decreed.

Little is known about the interior of the castle, or what the King looks like. The coronation isn't meant for the public eye, as vampires have their own rituals they perform in the privacy of their coven. No one knows when a new king is crowned, and only finds out when the Centurial Ball in announced.

Despite the war between men and the living dead, the vampires have ruled the realm fair and just. As long as the laws were obeyed and no rules were broken, the current king provided for his subjects from the isolation of the castle.

Elle can't say anything bad about the way the realm is ruled. There has never been a drought, nor any food shortages, and trades have been good since her father established his business here. Sangaris is prosperous, to say the least, and she hopes the new king is as fair and successful as his father was.

The carriage arrives at the castle just as the sun disappears behind the mountains, painting the sky an ombre of lavender and dark violet. The driver opens the door and helps her out, something he didn't do back at the house. Even he is playing the role given to him by Lady Octavia, and dutifully escorts her up the steps to the set of iron doors.

Elle gapes at the ancient building before her, admiring its towers stretching far beyond what she can see, gawking at the gargoyle statues perched at every corner and balcony, and staring wide-eyed at the guards posted at every entrance of the castle. They're dressed in leather armour with ebony hoods and capes concealing their faces from view.

They are no doubt vampires. The King is said to have two groups of guards – normal men by day and vampires by night, as everyone knows the latter doesn't appreciate daylight as much.

Elle has never seen a vampire before and tries her best to see underneath their hoods, hoping to catch a glimpse of their faces. Are they hideously deformed with pointed ears and crooked noses? Do they have ten rows of razor-sharp teeth as the bedtime stories claimed? Do their eyes glow as bright as the blood they consume?

Alas, she can't see past the hoods as the carriage driver escorts her inside.

But just as Elle thought the exterior was something to stop and stare at, the interior nearly took her breath away. She expected it to be dark with spiderwebs sticking to the ceilings and skeletons scattered about the halls – not this.

The floors are made of black marble that reflects the chandeliers dangling from the ceiling, the limestone walls are decorated with mounted candelabras and old paintings of the kings that came before, and tapestries tell the stories of the war and victory of the living dead.

Although in awe of what she sees, Elle can't help but feel grateful that she's not one of the staff working in the castle. Imagine cleaning a room like this... it will take her an entire week.

At the end of the hall, they reach a set of double doors behind which she can hear the murmuring of voices, and the soft music of the orchestra. This must lead to the ball room, then.

There is a man waiting at the doors with a large book in his hand. He appears to be human, but Elle also knows some vampires can alter their forms to mislead humans.

The man stops them at the doors. "Which house are you representing, miss?"

"House Clandestine," answers Elle and immediately clears her throat when her voice comes out as a squeak. Her hands are shaking enough as it is, she doesn't need her voice to convey her fear as well.

"And your name?" asks the man as he records her attendance in his book.

"Elle Clandestine."

He writes it down and places the book on a nearby podium. From underneath it, he fetches a sharp, needle-like object and a square piece of white parchment. "Your hand, please."

After years of serving her stepmother and stepsisters, Elle's first instinct is to obey. However, the moment the man presses the spike to her finger, she abruptly retracts her hand. "What are you doing?"

"Acquiring a sample of your blood, of course," he says casually, although she detects an impatient edge in his tone.

Elle flinches back when he reaches for her hand. "Why do you require my blood?"

"You're not serious," he says in disbelief. But taking her wide-eyed expression in consideration, he realizes she has no clue what is going on. Emitting a breath, he explains, "The King requires a sample of blood from each guest to determine who will be suitable to bear his heir."

"He can sense all that just by a drop of blood?" she wonders out loud.

The man nods and checks his watch. "Yes, now your hand, please. The ball is about to begin."

Elle extends her hand hesitantly, wincing as the man pricks her finger with the spike and squeeze a single drop of blood onto the block of parchment. Next, he writes her name underneath it and locks it away in a wooden box that he sends away with a servant.

With a single wave at the carriage driver, the man sends him off. To Elle, he says, "Feel free to do as you please while awaiting the King. It is, in fact, a ball. Eat, drink, dance, and be merry."

With that, he opens the doors and Elle sucks in a breath.