The Blood Keep was divided into three main floors. The first was home to guards, servants, kitchen staff, and everyone not directly related to the ruling family. The second floor was reserved for the immediate family, while the third belonged solely to the duke and his lady. Years ago, however, the lady of the Blood Keep had been murdered, leaving the duke as the sole occupant of the top floor.
The castle itself was massive boasting fourteen or fifteen chambers, though only nine remained in usable condition. Of those, only three were currently in use by the family. Legend has it that when the keep was first constructed, Aldric—the Vampire King—never requested a chamber for himself. After all, neither he nor his court required beds; they slept in coffins. Still, the dwarves insisted on crafting grand chambers for the undying king and his court, stating that every king deserved his own bed. Aldric accepted their offer. Twelve of these chambers were built on the second floor for the vampire court. Now, only Michael and Samuel resided there.
A room had been prepared for Benjamin as well, but he refused to stay on the second floor. He insisted on remaining among the guards to stay informed and fulfill the Archduke's orders regarding his nephews' protection. As a result, the second floor was usually dead silent—unless the duke was home. In that case, the staircases, hallways, and every possible entry point between the second and third floors would be crawling with guards. But the Duke had left for the Imperium, taking most of his men with him.
Michael sighed as he climbed in from the balcony, landing quietly in the second-floor main hall. Spiderwebs clung to his cloak like he was auditioning to play "ancient ghost of tragic nobility." He moved cautiously, scanning the hall for any sign of life. The sun was probably rising… maybe. Who could tell in this gloomy vampire-themed mausoleum? The Blood Keep was the last place the sun ever touched—if it touched it at all. Even at noon, it looked like a setting for a funeral.
He wouldn't know it was morning until he peeked out a window. And if anyone found him now—filthy, hooded, scarred, and trailing dust like a cursed relic—they'd report straight to Benjamin, and Benjamin would give him that Look. Then there'd be lectures, investigations, guilt-tripping monologues about responsibility and duty.
Being half-vampire, Michael healed faster than most people, but it still took time. He was hoping the fresh cut across his face would be gone before he ran into anyone with authority—or worse, Paul. Otherwise, he'd have to explain how he ended up with a slash across his cheek.
"Why the hell did she go for the face?" he muttered, brushing dust off his shoulder. "If you're going to try and kill a vampire, you aim for the heart. Even an assassin should have some manners."
Of course, he knew better. He wasn't invincible. You stick a dagger in the right place, and even a half-vampire becomes a corpse. Still, he liked quoting that old children's story he read years ago. Something about wooden stakes, garlic, and vampires crying in sunlight. It was all nonsense—but comforting nonsense.
He crept through the hall, heading toward the library. From there, he slipped into a narrow side corridor—and froze. Two guards stood at the base of a short staircase, blocking the path to the left wing where his bedchamber was. Both wore the red-and-gold warrior armor of House Centarious.
Michael let out a breath through his nose. Great. The Hounds.
These weren't regular guards; these were Benjamin's personal favorites—elite warriors handpicked for their loyalty and complete lack of humor. Forty-two in total, though Paul had told him only thirteen were currently stationed at the Keep. After Michael's delightful near-death experience, more were on the way. Naturally.
The Hounds had scoured the castle after the incident and, in true elite fashion, found absolutely nothing. Michael already knew who the culprit was—Joshua Art, brother to the would-be assassin maid. And he had a few creative ideas for how to deal with him.
As Michael stepped forward, cloaked in black like a suspicious shadow from a horror story, the two guards snapped to attention.
"Who are you? What are you doing in the young master's corridor?"
Michael slowly raised both hands in mock surrender, his movements theatrical. No weapons, just attitude. The guards tensed at first, then relaxed slightly.
With deliberate slowness, he pulled back his hood, revealing his face—and that ever-so-charming, crooked smile. The kind of smile that said, yes, it's me. Yes, I look like I crawled out of a crypt. And yes, I deserve a month of sleep and a confession booth.
"Morning, gentlemen," he said, voice dry as bone. "Just your local half-vampire trying not to die before breakfast."
Without another word, he strolled past them, heading toward his room, cape fluttering behind him like some underfunded gothic hero.
…
Michael had removed everything except his white shirt and black pants, sitting on the edge of his bed, watching Paul from across the room. Sunlight streamed through the broken door, casting a soft glow over the room.
Michael couldn't shake the fear that Paul might wake up. The Luminath family were known Sun Walking Technique users, capable of healing injuries under sunlight. That's why Michael had been so confident in poisoning Paul in the first place. If Paul woke up too soon, he'd find the clock, get scared, and Michael would have to explain everything, disrupting his plan to send the maid away.
When Michael saw Paul still unconscious, he finally relaxed. Slowly, his exhaustion caught up with him. He had wanted to check on Paul right away, but seeing that he was still asleep allowed him to let go of his worry. Sleep began to pull at him. He wanted to at least change out of the clothes that smelled like bat piss, a lingering scent from his harrowing visit to the hidden great hall, where he almost died at the hands of a fog binder. But he couldn't bring himself to care. He turned his back to the bed and fell asleep almost instantly.
…
Paul slowly opened his eyes. The lines on his face and neck faded as his vision cleared, though it was still a little blurry. He scanned his surroundings, trying to remember where he was and what had just happened. Memories of the previous night flashed through his mind, and his first thought was to find Michael. Where was that brat? Had he seriously poisoned him just to sneak out?
Frustration surged through him as he jumped to his feet and saw Michael sleeping soundly across the large bed. The smell hit him then, and he gritted his teeth.
"Kid, did you really poison me just to catch a damn bat, or was that for fun?" he muttered, rubbing his forehead