Two star crossed lovers.
Nations divided by blood and power.
A war to end all others.
She is heir to the brutal Darkling kingdom and daughter to the most vicious king ever known, Vlad the impaler.
He's the Demon prince ru...
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Snow now blanketed Poenari Fortress.
It had crept in on northern region of New Wallachia like an experienced assassin, stifling any remaining life left by the autumn season. One day it was only lumps of it here and there, sparsely laying - the next, a white and frosty veil over everything. Nonstop. It covered everything. Even the lovely Arges River that I could appreciate from one of the stone balconies had been reduced to a silent trickle.
Winter had finally arrived.
I hated every single snowflake that fell.
~~~
"Goddess-blessed be the High House."
All inside echo the words as the Royal Family enters the spacious temple. An organ's melody signals our arrival through the looming dark walls of the pious house. We step in line, from king to third heir, and find our seats at the front.
My father and Irina, both clad in silver and their house colors- the deepest onyx on father and the richest blue on the queen; make to sit at the top of the altar, right behind the massive star-shaped slab of argent and glass that is the priests' dais, a row of guards ever present at their sides.
The temple here in New Wallachia, my Keep, had always been a beautiful space, built entirely from shadow agate. The bloodstone covering the floor was all that remained of the original stone temple, which Father had destroyed when Mother passed and replaced it with the dark structure. Two columns of about a hundred rosewood pews stretched beneath a vaulted glass ceiling that let in so much light, no candles were needed during the day.
Snow piled upon the translucent roof, casting patterns of sunshine throughout. As this was a Moon temple, the stars and crescent moon carvings on the walls were expertly designed, alongside the depictions of Draken's horned form, posed in reverence to the Goddess. And, of course, the stained glass windows above the altar told the tale of Creation in a myriad of colors.
I peer over the faces of those sitting around me.
The head of House Federov and his wife, Mikhail's meek and soft-spoken mother, sit behind us in the second row. Mikhail himself does not sit with his family. His place, as Captain of the Royal Guard, is beside the king.
I spot him amid the guardsmen, the captain breaking his concentration for the briefest of moments as soon as he finds me among the many faces; long enough to shoot me a vexing wink.
My view shifts elsewhere.
Iskra sits beside me, the long sleeve of her dress knotted at the end of her now-healed stump.
She's followed by Evgeni and his companion for the day, Lady Yvanna, daughter of one the Court noble houses. A Dreadling family, if I'm not mistaken – House Grisha, those Gifted with the ability to breathe life to one's fears, to cause delirium.
