Bride Of The Night

Chapter 3

### **Chapter 3: The Vampire's Court**

The air inside the hall felt thick, heavy with centuries of history and power. Lana took a step forward, her boots clicking sharply on the marble floor. It felt like the earth itself was watching her every move, the weight of every eye in the room pressing down on her.

Behind her, Ian and Emma walked with an ease that made it clear they had long since mastered the subtle art of vampire politics. They were at home here, in the midst of the opulence, the power, and the danger. She, on the other hand, felt like an intruder.

The great doors of the court closed behind her with a deep, resonating thud, cutting off any chance of escape. She was in the lion's den now.

The grand hall was bathed in soft golden light from an array of towering crystal chandeliers that hung from the high vaulted ceilings. The air hummed with quiet conversations, laughter, the clinking of glasses. Vampires of every age and station stood around the room in clusters, dressed in clothes that ranged from extravagant velvet robes to tight, sleek suits—each garment a declaration of power. The whispers of ancient nobility hung in the air.

"Welcome to the court," Ian murmured, his voice smooth, but with an edge that suggested they were both aware of how precarious this moment was.

Lana felt her stomach tighten, a mix of nerves and excitement surging through her veins. She was no longer human, no longer the girl she had been. But here, in this room, she felt even more out of place.

Ian led her through the crowd, his presence commanding, Emma beside him, her regal composure never faltering. But it was Lana, the newcomer, who drew the attention. Whispers rippled like a wave around the room as she passed. It was impossible not to notice her. Not just because of her beauty—though she had already begun to realize how stunningly different she looked—but because of the air about her, the way she seemed to pulse with something both unfamiliar and magnetic.

Her lavender eyes, glowing faintly in the dim lighting, drew more than a few curious glances. Her hair, once dark brown and ordinary, now had an ethereal sheen to it, like strands of silk weaving a different reality. She was marked—branded, even—in a way that made her a creature of fascination. Morpheus's blood, his essence, ran in her veins, and in this world, that made her both a wonder and a threat.

As they walked deeper into the heart of the hall, Lana caught sight of a vampire who made her pause in her step. He was tall—taller than Ian, broad-shouldered, with hair as black as midnight and a jawline so sharp it seemed sculpted. His amber eyes gleamed with cold intelligence, and his smile, when it appeared, was full of quiet menace.

"Ah," he said, his voice smooth as velvet, drawing the attention of the others in the room. "The king's *chosen*."

Lana's heart skipped, her instincts flaring as his gaze settled on her. He was beautiful in an unsettling way—powerful, dangerous, but undeniably captivating. The kind of vampire that made you feel like prey even when you were just standing still.

"You must be Lana," the vampire continued, his smile widening. "How delightful to finally meet you."

"Lucien," Ian said sharply, his voice carrying an edge of authority. "Don't test her."

Lucien's amber eyes never left Lana's. "Test her? Oh, no. I simply want to know more about our *newest* noble."

Lana felt the weight of his gaze, too sharp, too knowing. There was a hunger in it. Not the physical kind, but something more subtle—an urge to *possess* knowledge, to peel her apart and find her weakest points.

She stood tall, holding his gaze. She wasn't going to let him rattle her. Not yet.

"What have you heard about me?" she asked coolly, her voice steady, though she felt the weight of the eyes around her. The room had gone eerily silent.

Lucien's smile faltered, but only for a moment, before he recovered. "I've heard you're special, Lana. Chosen by the king himself." He stepped forward, closing the distance between them with a confident stride. "That doesn't happen often, does it? A noble turned by blood alone. Not a common thing."

"I'm not here to play politics," Lana replied, her voice firm. "If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, I'd rather keep my distance."

Lucien's eyes narrowed slightly, and for a brief moment, something cold and calculating flashed in them. "Of course, dear. We all have our *roles* to play, don't we?"

Behind her, she could feel Emma's gaze, calm and reassuring, but also alert. She knew what Lucien was doing. Testing her. Pushing her. He was a predator, and predators didn't like to be ignored.

Ian stepped in, placing a hand lightly on Lana's shoulder. "Lucien," he said in a tone that brooked no argument. "I'd advise you to stay out of this."

Lucien's smile was a tight, sharp thing. "Of course, Ian. Forgive me. I meant no offense. After all, I wouldn't want to upset our king's *prized* pet."

The insult was thinly veiled, but Lana could tell it was meant to provoke. Lucien had already decided she was a weak link—something that could be exploited. His eyes glittered as if he were already plotting something, a move he would make when the time was right.

Lana's stomach churned, but she didn't react. Not yet.

"Don't mistake kindness for weakness, Lucien," she said quietly, her voice steely. "You may have been here longer than I have, but I'm no one's pet."

Lucien's lips curled into a slow smile, but it wasn't warm. "We'll see, won't we?" he said before turning away, his long coat trailing behind him like a shadow.

Lana let out a quiet breath, trying to keep her composure as the tension in the room loosened slightly. Ian gave her a nod of approval, his hand still on her shoulder, steadying her.

"Lucien is a snake," Ian said quietly, once the crowd had resumed its murmuring. "He'll try to play with your head. But you handled yourself well."

Lana nodded, though her mind was still reeling. The encounter had rattled her more than she cared to admit. Lucien was dangerous—not just physically, but psychologically. He had a way of manipulating those around him, of making them doubt themselves. She wouldn't let him do that to her. Not now.

A new voice cut through her thoughts, soft and melodic. "Isn't she exquisite?"

Lana turned toward the voice and found herself face-to-face with a woman who had appeared beside her. She was tall, elegant, with long silver hair that cascaded down her back like a waterfall. Her skin was pale, almost translucent, and her eyes—wide and violet—sparkled with something that almost looked like amusement.

"Emma," Lana whispered, recognizing her friend's voice before she turned. The woman before them, too, had an air of authority.

"Yes," Emma said, smiling warmly at Lana as she stepped forward. "This is Lady Isolde. One of the most respected among the noblewomen of the court."

"Lady Isolde," Lana said, nodding respectfully.

The woman regarded her with a playful smile. "You are much more than the rumors suggest, dear. But I suspect you already know that."

Lana didn't respond, but she felt the weight of Isolde's words pressing down on her. She could already feel that the court was a dangerous place. A place where power was the only language spoken, and every word could either strengthen or destroy you.

And yet, beneath all of it, the one constant was the pull she felt—deep within her, as though Morpheus himself were watching her. His blood in her veins. His power tethering her to him in ways that went beyond anything she could control.

The court wasn't just a place of power—it was a prison. A gilded one, yes, but a prison nonetheless. And the more she learned, the more she understood that she was bound to it—and to him—in a way she couldn't escape.

Not yet.

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