WAR OF HEARTS ↠ KOL MIKAELSON [1]

THE ONE WHERE SHE MET KATERINA PETROVA

1492 - England

The manor pulsed with soft candlelight and quiet treachery. Laughter curled beneath the vaulted ceilings like smoke, wine flowed freely, and every whisper carried weight. In the great hall, lords and ladies drifted like ghosts between gilded columns, their silks rustling like veiled threats. It was a night for politics and posturing, for courtship beneath the eyes of old power.

Kol Mikaelson and Rhea Monroe were the most dangerous people in the room-and the only ones who wore that truth like perfume.

Kol stood with one hand wrapped around a crystal goblet, the other tucked casually behind his back. His smirk was carved from velvet and malice. He looked every inch the bored nobleman-if you didn't know better. Rhea was a step beside him, radiant in an emerald silk gown with gold-threaded sleeves. Her dark hair was pulled into a coronet of loose curls, adorned with deep sapphire combs that sparkled like a warning. Her posture was effortless. Her expression, anything but.

They were playing the part they had perfected: poised, proper, predatory.

"Try not to eviscerate the lord of Gloucestershire again," Rhea murmured, eyes scanning the crowd with idle amusement. "It took me three days to erase the stench of his entrails from our rugs."

Kol raised his glass. "If the man grabs your waist again, I make no promises."

Before Rhea could reply, a familiar figure cut through the gathered nobility.

Trevor-young, overeager, and eternally out of his depth-grinned like a man presenting treasure to dragons. He tugged a girl along by the wrist, a girl with rose-flushed cheeks and wide, curious eyes. She wore a simple gown of blue silk, and her dark hair fell in perfect waves across her shoulders.

"Kol. Rhea," Trevor said, breathless and bright. "May I present Katerina Petrova. Newly arrived from Bulgaria. She's staying with the Countess of Lydford for the season."

Kol's goblet paused mid-air.

Rhea noticed the shift instantly-the moment his entire body stilled. His head tilted, and for a moment, it wasn't the charming vampire she stood beside but something older. Sharper.

He took one step forward. His eyes scanned the girl's face, noting every familiar curve, every echo of the past. Then, with a voice pitched in disbelief and delight, he whispered:

"By the gods. It's her. The face."

Rhea's brows knit. "Whose face?"

"Tatia," Kol said, voice low, reverent. "She's a doppelgänger."

Rhea's stomach dropped.

She had never met the original woman-never seen the one who had fractured two brothers before their blood ran immortal-but she had heard the stories. Stories of a girl whose beauty haunted a family for centuries. A girl whose blood might one day break Klaus Mikaelson's curse.

And now... she was here.

Smiling. Oblivious.

Katerina curtsied with grace that was just shy of practiced. "It's a pleasure to meet you both."

Rhea forced a smile, one that curled just slightly too cold. "I'm sure it is."

Kol leaned close, murmuring in her ear as the girl turned to greet another noble. "This changes everything."

Rhea's eyes didn't leave the girl. "It always does."

-

They hosted her, of course.