The long chant finally dies in the cold air. Hundreds of red eyes snap open, pinning the girl to the altar.,

A shaft of moonlight pierces the stained glass. It turns Ruby's lake-blue gown into a shimmering field of diamonds.

The vampires speak a single, jagged phrase in unison. The priest-figure turns, extending an irregular piece of stone with both hands.

Ruby's fingers hover before she grips the rock. It weighs nothing... the grey surface turns as clear as glass against her palm. She needs to check the diaries in the study for a record of this thing.

The priest barks a command in a tongue that tastes like iron. He points a gnarled finger toward the exit. Ruby takes two steps, her boots clicking on the marble.

She looks back, but the priest has already forgotten her. Maids intercept her, guiding her through the sea of silk and lace toward the center of the hall.

A gold-and-enamel hut sits under the vaulted ceiling. The maids click the small door open and usher her inside.

Red velvet cushions line the interior. Gold walls rise to meet a circular window where the moon hangs like a lidless eye. The thunder of the organ vanishes... replaced by a silence so heavy it hurts.

Ruby's chest tightens. Her fingers claw at the gold carvings. Are they going to bury her in this box while the court celebrates outside?

The latch groans. The door swings wide. Brian Lancaster ducks his head to clear the frame.

He fills the small space, the scent of rain and old paper following him. The door snaps shut.,

"Princess Ruby. It's been a long time." Brian's voice is a smooth, low baritone. His Common Tongue is flawless.,

"Hello." Ruby presses her back against the velvet.,

"It's just the Lunar Prayer," Brian says. He sits, his hands folding over his knees. "We leave when the moon shifts."

He shuts his eyes. Ruby watches him. His hair curls at the tips, matching the sharp lines of his jaw. He looks like Dion... but the edges are softer, the posture more like a statue.,,

Ronal's diaries described him as a god; Ruby sees a man made of stone. Brian's nostrils flare. He doesn't open his eyes.

He catches a sharp, sweet scent clinging to her silk. It is iron and sugar. It is Dion's scent.,

Moonlight floods the box. Brian's eyes snap open, twin pools of crimson burning in the dark. Ruby's heart skips a beat.,

"You're afraid," Brian says. A small, elegant smile touches his lips. "Of me? Or my kind?"

Ruby's panic suddenly dissolves into a thick, syrupy peace. A weight lifts from her shoulders, leaving her floating in the velvet. She doesn't flinch.

She's felt this Bewitchment before. Brian's brow hitches as he studies her steady hands. What has his brother done to his bride?

"It's better this way," he whispers. "We'll be here for a while."

The silence stretches. "How do you find Châtelet?" Brian asks.

"The nights," Ruby murmurs. Her head falls back against the cushions. "They never end."

"It is our kingdom, after all."

Ruby gazes at the moon through the circular glass. Her tongue feels loose and heavy. "Do you remember Princess Ronal?"

Brian's posture breaks for a heartbeat. "Of course."

He looks at the gold wall. "She had orange hair. How do you know that name?"

Ruby's eyes go misty. She sinks into the red velvet, her breathing shallow like a stranded mermaid. "I want to know who they were. The girls before me."

Brian leans in. His gloved hand hovers near her face. He drags a finger along the diamond chain of her veil.

"Humans," he says. A faint smile ghosts across his face. "They were very cute."

He sits back. He is inches away, but the distance feels like an ocean.

Dion Lancaster's gaze anchors on the central tower. Ruby Kingsley is inside with his brother for the Lunar Prayer.

The moon over Châtelet bleeds through the glass, meant to "purify" the human bride before the court. The nobles watch with hungry, predatory grins.

Dion yanks at his silver collar. Felix leans in, his voice a low whisper. "Too tight, Highness?"

"No."

The word is a dry snap. Felix retreats two steps into the shadows.

Dion's jaw locks as he remembers her at the altar. Her lake-blue gown shimmered like a bruise under the moonlight. She'd looked at him, her dark eyes wide and shimmering, before dropping her gaze to the floor.

The doors stay shut. Dion's throat works. His brother has handled brides for centuries... Brian knows exactly how to break a human.

Is she trembling? Is Brian playing the gentleman to win her over? Dion's fingers dig into the velvet armrest.

Brian has had a thousand lovers. He knows the weight of a gaze, the heat of a touch. Dion's pupils dilate until the red is a thin, vibrating ring.

"Water," Dion rasps. He doesn't look at Felix.

"Highness, the ritual. The nobles are watching. It would be... improper."

Dion's knuckles turn white. He stares at the gold latch of the tower door.

The heavy doors groan open. Brian Lancaster steps into the light, his silver-black hair perfect, his posture a straight line of cold arrogance.

Ruby follows, surrounded by a wall of maids. She sways. Her head hangs low, her gaze anchored on her own feet.

The energy she had earlier—the curiosity, the life—is gone. She looks like a hollowed shell.

What did he do to her?

Dion's chair screeches against the marble as he stands. Felix's hand hits his shoulder, a heavy, warning weight. "The ceremony isn't over, Prince Dion."

The banquet is a blur of silver and blood-wine. Dion's plate sits untouched. The honey cake goes cold.

He stares at the flickering candle flame in the center of the mahogany. Queen Bellaceline's eyes track the movement of his pupils.

The Queen's gaze is a scalpel. She notes the tension in his shoulders and the way he ignores the noble ladies vying for his attention.

The feast breaks. The nobles vanish into the corridors of Lyndell Palace. A lone guard ducks into a secluded garden, hidden behind a high stone hedge.

Queen Bellaceline stands by the fountain. Her lavender silk gown is silent in the dark. The guard drops to one knee.

"Report," the Queen commands. Her voice is a cool silk thread.

"The Prince is... functional, Majesty. His training is on schedule."

"Any changes in his habits?"

The guard hesitates. He keeps his head bowed. "His appetite. He barely touched breakfast. And the Bloodbound Servants... he hasn't requested a feeding in days."

The Queen's lips curve into a thin, unreadable smile. "I see."

"Watch him closer," she says. Her red eyes flash in the dark. "Every detail. Every word."

"As you command, Majesty."