Chapter 3 THE NORTH COURT

Sera didn't sleep.

How could she, knowing that somewhere in this tower, Daemon Ashford was awake, probably watching the city with those ice-blue eyes, probably thinking about the human girl who'd saved his life and what secrets she might be hiding?

Instead, she lay in the enormous bed-which was far too soft, far too comfortable, far too much like luxury she didn't deserve-and stared at the ceiling, cataloging every mistake that had led her here.

Mistake one: being born half-vampire in a world that wanted her dead.

Mistake two: surviving when she should have died with her mother.

Mistake three: throwing blood at assassins instead of walking away.

The list could go on, but dwelling on it wouldn't change anything. She was here now, bound by magic and debt to the one vampire she should have avoided at all costs.

The sun rose somewhere beyond the blackout curtains-she could feel it in her bones, the way all dhampirs could. Vampires felt the sun as a threat, a weakness. Dhampirs felt it as a distant comfort, a reminder that they were still partly human. Still partly alive.

Sera finally gave up on sleep around noon and explored her gilded cage.

The bathroom was ridiculous-all black marble and gold fixtures, with a shower that had more settings than her old apartment had rooms. There was a closet, currently empty except for her courier uniform hanging lonely and out of place. The window didn't open, she discovered. Locked from the outside. Fire hazard, but also escape prevention.

A knock at the door made her jump.

"Come in," she called, then immediately regretted it. What if it was Daemon? What if he'd decided to question her now, while she was tired and vulnerable?

But it was a young woman who entered, human, carrying an armful of clothing. She couldn't have been more than eighteen, with warm brown skin and nervous eyes that didn't quite meet Sera's.

"Lord Ashford sent these," the girl said, laying the clothes on the bed. "He said to tell you they should fit, and if they don't, to let housekeeping know."

"Thank you," Sera said, studying her. "What's your name?"

The girl looked surprised to be asked. "Mara, miss."

"You work here? In the Tower?"

"Yes, miss. Housekeeping staff. Have for two years now." Mara smoothed the clothes nervously. "It's not bad work, if you follow the rules. Lord Ashford treats us fair, long as we do our jobs and don't cause trouble."

There was a story there, Sera thought. A warning wrapped in reassurance.

"What are the rules?" Sera asked.

Mara finally met her eyes, and there was sympathy there. "Don't go where you're not allowed. Don't ask questions about vampire business. Don't forget what you are." She paused. "And don't trust the pretty words. Vampires aren't human, no matter how much they might seem like it sometimes. They're predators. We're prey. Simple as that."

"That's a bleak way to look at it."

"That's a realistic way to look at it." Mara moved toward the door. "Dinner's at six if you want it. Human staff eats in the kitchens, but Lord Ashford requested you dine with him tonight. Someone will come fetch you at sunset."

She left before Sera could ask more questions.

Sera turned to examine the clothes. Everything was high quality-silk blouses, tailored pants, a few dresses that looked like they cost more than her yearly salary as a courier. All in dark colors. Black, deep blue, charcoal grey. Colors that wouldn't stand out in vampire society. Colors that said: I know my place.

She chose the simplest outfit-black pants and a midnight blue blouse-and changed, catching sight of herself in the full-length mirror.

She looked different. Older, maybe. Or just more tired. The silver thread around her wrist stood out against her brown skin, a visible brand marking her as bound. She pulled the sleeve down to cover it, but she could still feel it there, pulsing with the connection to Daemon.

Sera spent the afternoon exploring what parts of the Tower she could access. Her floor was residential-mostly empty rooms, probably for other servants or guests. The guards stationed at the stairwell doors didn't stop her from wandering the hallway, but when she tried to go up or down, they blocked her path politely but firmly.

"Lord Ashford's orders," one said. "You're restricted to residential floors until he clears you for full access."

So she was a prisoner with nice accommodations. Wonderful.

She returned to her room and found a phone on the nightstand, like Marcus had said. She stared at it for a long moment before picking it up and dialing a number she knew by heart.

Ivy answered on the first ring. "Sera? Oh thank god. Are you okay? Where are you? I got this insane transfer this morning-"

"I'm fine," Sera cut in, glancing at the door. Could they listen to calls? Probably. She'd have to be careful. "I'm at the Tower. It's... it's fine. Daemon wants me to serve out the blood debt here."

"For how long?"

"I don't know. Could be years." Sera heard Ivy's sharp intake of breath. "The transfer he sent you-"

"Ten thousand credits, Sera. That's insane. That's-"

"That's to cover rent and expenses. You don't have to worry about money for a while." Sera twisted the phone cord around her finger. "I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

"Keep your head down. Don't draw attention. Don't ask questions about me or where I am." Sera's voice dropped lower. "And if anyone comes asking about me-anyone vampire-you don't know anything. You barely knew me. I was just a roommate who paid rent on time. Got it?"

Silence on the other end, then: "You're scaring me."

"Good. Be scared. Be careful." Sera closed her eyes. "I'll call when I can, but it might not be often. Just... be safe, okay?"

"You too," Ivy whispered. "Come back to me, Sera."

"I'll try."

She hung up before her voice could break.

The sun set at 6:47 PM according to the clock on the nightstand. Sera felt it like a shift in the air pressure, and somewhere in the Tower, she knew vampires were waking.

The knock came at exactly 7:00 PM.

Marcus stood in the doorway, looking impeccable in his Northern Court uniform. "Lord Ashford requests your presence for dinner."

"Vampires don't eat dinner," Sera pointed out.

"No, but you do. And Lord Ashford prefers to discuss business over meals. Makes humans more comfortable." Marcus gestured for her to follow. "Shall we?"

This time, they took the elevator up instead of down. The doors opened onto a floor that was clearly Daemon's private residence. The public areas of the Tower had been impressive but cold. This was... different. Still elegant, still expensive, but there were personal touches. Books on shelves. Art that seemed chosen for love rather than display. A fireplace with comfortable chairs arranged around it.

It felt lived in. It felt like a home.

That made it somehow more unsettling.

Marcus led her through the living area to a dining room with a table that could seat twenty but was set for two. Daemon sat at the head, reading something on a tablet. He looked up when they entered, and those ice-blue eyes tracked over her with assessing interest.

"Much better," he said, gesturing to her new clothes. "Please, sit."

Sera sat in the chair to his right. Close enough to make conversation easy but far enough that she didn't feel cornered. Marcus bowed and left, closing the door behind him.

"I wasn't sure you'd sleep," Daemon said conversationally.

"I didn't."

"I know. I can hear your heartbeat from here. It's been elevated all day." He set down his tablet. "Nervous?"

"Wouldn't you be? Bound to a vampire lord, forced to live in his tower, told your entire life has changed overnight?" Sera met his gaze. "Yes, I'm nervous."

"Honest. I appreciate that." Daemon leaned back in his chair. "Most humans tell me what they think I want to hear. It's refreshing to speak with someone who doesn't."

"Give me time. I might learn to lie better."

That earned her another almost-smile. "I hope not."

A door opened and staff entered with covered dishes. They placed one in front of Sera-some kind of pasta that smelled amazing and reminded her she hadn't eaten since yesterday-and a wine glass in front of Daemon. The liquid was too dark to be wine. Blood, then. Fresh, judging by the way Daemon's pupils dilated slightly when they poured it.

The staff left without a word.

"Eat," Daemon said. "You need your strength."

Sera wanted to refuse on principle, but her stomach had other ideas. She took a bite and tried not to moan. It was delicious. Professionally prepared. Nothing like the cheap noodles and canned soup she usually survived on.

"Good?" Daemon asked, sipping his blood.

"It's fine," Sera lied.

He smiled. Actually smiled. It transformed his face from coldly beautiful to something almost warm. Almost human. "You're a terrible liar, Sera. Your heartbeat spikes every time you're not being truthful."

Damn vampire hearing.

"The food is good," Sera admitted. "Happy?"

"Moderately." Daemon set down his glass. "Now, let's discuss your duties. As my personal attendant, you'll manage my schedule, screen my correspondence, accompany me to meetings and social events. You'll be my representative in situations where I need human perspective or human access."

"Sounds like a secretary with extra steps."

"A secretary who's magically bound to stay within a mile of me at all times, yes." Daemon's expression grew more serious. "I won't lie to you, Sera. This position puts you in danger. Those who tried to kill me last night will try again. And they'll target anyone close to me, hoping to find a weakness. You need to understand what you're walking into."

"I didn't have a choice in walking into it," Sera pointed out.

"No. But you have a choice in how you handle it." Daemon studied her. "I can teach you to protect yourself. Self-defense, situational awareness, how to spot threats. Or I can assign guards to follow you everywhere, which will make you a bigger target and restrict your freedom even more."

Sera thought about it while she ate. Guards meant constant surveillance, no privacy, no chance to hide anything. Training meant time alone with Daemon, which was dangerous in its own way, but at least she'd maintain some agency.

"Training," she decided. "I'd rather learn to protect myself."

"Smart choice." Daemon pulled out his phone, typed something. "Lucian will work with you. He's my second, and the best fighter in the Northern Court. If anyone can teach you to survive vampire society, it's him."

"When do I start?"

"Tomorrow night. For now, I need you to review these." Daemon handed her the tablet he'd been reading earlier. "Meeting notes from the last Council session. Familiarize yourself with the players, the politics, the alliances. You'll need to understand the landscape if you're going to be useful to me."

Sera took the tablet and started scrolling. Names, titles, territorial disputes, blood trade agreements-it was like reading a foreign language, but one she'd need to learn fast.

"Can I ask you something?" she said without looking up.

"You can ask. I may not answer."

"Why did those vampires try to kill you last night? You said something about factions wanting war, but that's vague."

Daemon was quiet for a long moment. "The Blood Accord has kept peace for a century, but it's a peace many vampires resent. They remember the time before, when we ruled absolutely, when humans were nothing but cattle. They want that power back."

"And you don't?"

"I want stability. Order. A society that functions." Daemon swirled the blood in his glass. "War is chaos. Chaos is unpredictable. I don't like unpredictable."

"That's very pragmatic."

"I'm a very pragmatic vampire." His eyes met hers. "Your mother wasn't pragmatic. She was idealistic. She believed vampires and humans could truly coexist as equals."

Sera's fork clattered against her plate. "What did you say?"

"Your mother. Elena Blackwood." Daemon's expression didn't change. "Did you think I wouldn't figure it out? You have her eyes. Her bone structure. The way you tilt your head when you're thinking. It took me about an hour to place it, but once I did, it was obvious."

Sera's heart hammered so hard she thought it might break through her ribs. He knew. He'd known since this morning, maybe since last night, and he'd been waiting, watching, letting her think she was safe.

"If you knew," she said, her voice shaking, "why didn't you say anything? Why bring me here? Why-"

"Why not just execute you like I did your mother?" Daemon finished. His voice was soft, almost gentle, which made it worse. "Because I made a mistake ten years ago, and I've regretted it every day since."

Sera stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor. "Regretted it? You killed her!"

"I enforced the law." Daemon stood too, moving around the table toward her. Sera backed away, but there was nowhere to go. "The law says humans and vampires cannot procreate. The punishment for breaking that law is death. Your mother knew the consequences, and she chose to break it anyway."

"She loved him!" Sera's voice cracked. "She loved my father, and you killed her for it!"

"I did." Daemon stopped a few feet away. "And it was the biggest mistake I've ever made. Not because the law was wrong-the law exists for a reason-but because I didn't question it. I didn't think about what I was doing. I just... followed orders. Like a good little lord."

There was something in his voice. Bitterness. Self-loathing. It didn't make sense.

"I don't understand," Sera whispered.

"Your mother came to me before the execution," Daemon said quietly. "Did you know that? She asked me to spare her. Not for her sake-she knew she was dead. But for yours. She begged me to let her child live, to not hunt you down, to show mercy."

Sera's breath caught. "What did you say?"

"I said no. I said the law was absolute. That her child would be found and dealt with according to vampire justice." Daemon's jaw tightened. "She looked at me with those same eyes you have now, and she said, 'Then you're not a lord. You're just a monster playing at civilization.'"

The room was silent except for Sera's ragged breathing.

"She was right," Daemon continued. "I was a monster. I am a monster. But after her death, after I saw what blind obedience to unjust laws created, I started questioning. Started changing things, slowly. The Blood Accord reforms over the past decade? Those were me. The restrictions on forced feeding? Me. The human rights provisions? Also me."

"You're saying you had some kind of moral awakening because you murdered my mother?" Sera's voice was acidic. "That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"No. Nothing I say will make it better. Nothing I do can undo what I did." Daemon's eyes were impossibly sad. "But when you saved my life last night, when the blood debt bound us together, I saw it as a chance. A chance to finally do what your mother asked-to show her child mercy. To protect instead of hunt. To be better than I was."

"I don't want your protection," Sera spat. "I want-"

"Revenge?" Daemon finished. "Then take it. The blood debt goes both ways. If you truly want me dead, you could kill me right now. The magic wouldn't stop you-you saved my life, so you have the right to take it."

He took a knife from the table and held it out to her, handle first.

Sera stared at it. At him. At the impossible choice he was offering.

She could do it. Could drive that knife into his chest, into his heart. He was a vampire, but vampires could die. Stab the heart, cut off the head, burn the body-these were the ways to kill them. She could make him pay for what he'd done. Could avenge her mother.

Her hand reached for the knife.

Their fingers brushed as she took it from him, and the blood debt flared hot between them. She felt his presence in her mind, cold and ancient and infinitely weary. Felt the weight of centuries, the burden of power, the isolation of immortality.

And beneath all that, she felt genuine regret.

It didn't forgive what he'd done. It didn't make it right. But it made him real in a way she hadn't expected. Made him something more than the monster she'd built in her imagination.

Sera looked at the knife in her hand, then at Daemon's face. He wasn't defending himself. Wasn't moving to stop her. He was just watching her with those ice-blue eyes, waiting to see what she'd choose.

"I hate you," she said softly.

"I know."

"I'll never forgive you for what you did."

"I know that too."

"But killing you won't bring her back." Sera set the knife down on the table. "And it might start the war you're trying to prevent. So I guess you get to live with your regrets a little longer."

Something flickered across Daemon's face. Relief, maybe. Or disappointment. With vampires, it was hard to tell.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"Don't thank me. We're not friends. We're not allies. We're just two people stuck together by magic and circumstance." Sera wrapped her arms around herself. "I'll serve out the blood debt because I have to. I'll do the job because I need to survive. But don't expect me to like you. Don't expect me to trust you. And don't ever expect me to forget what you are."

"Fair enough." Daemon moved back to his chair and sat down, suddenly looking tired despite his vampire vitality. "For what it's worth, I'll protect you while you're bound to me. Not because I need to-the blood debt doesn't require it. But because it's what your mother would have wanted."

"Don't talk about her like you knew her."

"But I did know her. Not well, but enough." Daemon picked up his blood glass. "She was brilliant. Passionate. She saw the world not as it was but as it could be. She would have hated what I've become."

"She would have hated what you were ten years ago too."

"Yes," Daemon agreed. "She made that very clear."

They sat in silence after that, Sera picking at her food, Daemon staring into his blood. The revelation hung between them like a third presence-acknowledged but not resolved, because some things couldn't be resolved. Some wounds didn't heal.

Finally, Daemon stood. "It's late. You should rest. Tomorrow will be long-you're meeting Lucian in the evening, and then we have a Council meeting at midnight. You'll need to be sharp."

"Council meeting?" Sera looked up. "You're taking me to a vampire Council meeting?"

"You're my attendant. Where I go, you go. Besides, it's time the Council got used to seeing a human at my side." Daemon's smile was sharp. "It'll make them uncomfortable. I enjoy that."

Of course he did.

"One more thing," Daemon said as Sera headed for the door. "The dhampir thing."

Sera froze, her hand on the doorknob.

"I know what you are," Daemon said softly. "Half vampire, half human. Your mother's forbidden child. An abomination by vampire law, though I hate that word."

"You're going to execute me." It wasn't a question.

"No." Daemon moved closer, his voice dropping even lower. "I'm going to protect your secret. No one else knows. Not Marcus, not Lucian, not the Council. Just me. And it stays that way as long as you're honest with me."

"Why?" Sera turned to face him. "Why would you protect me? The law says-"

"The law says a lot of things. Not all of them are right." Daemon's eyes were intense. "Your mother died because of an unjust law. I won't make the same mistake twice. You're not an abomination, Sera. You're a bridge between our worlds. Exactly what we need if we're going to prevent the war that's coming."

"War?" Sera's mouth went dry. "You think there's going to be war?"

"I think last night's assassination attempt was the opening move," Daemon said grimly. "And I think things are going to get much worse before they get better. So yes, we're going to need every advantage we can get. Including you."

He left her with that pleasant thought, disappearing into his study and closing the door.

Sera stood in the hallway, her mind reeling.

He knew. He'd known from the start what she was, and instead of killing her, he was protecting her. Was using her. Was turning her into a piece on his political chessboard.

And the worst part? She couldn't even be fully angry about it. Because he was right. War was coming. She could feel it in the air, in the tension that permeated the Tower, in the way guards patrolled with hands on weapons and humans moved through the halls with lowered eyes and quick steps.

The powder keg Daemon had mentioned was ready to explode. And Sera was standing right on top of it.

She made her way back to her quarters, nodded to the guards, and locked herself inside. Then she went to the window and looked out at Nocturna sprawling below, thinking about her mother, about Daemon's regrets, about the impossible situation she'd landed in.

The silver thread around her wrist pulsed gently, and she could feel Daemon somewhere in the tower. Awake. Working. Planning.

Her mother had been an idealist who believed in change. Daemon was a pragmatist who enforced it through power and politics. And Sera? Sera was caught between them, between human and vampire, between revenge and survival, between the world as it was and the world as it could be.

She pulled out her phone and dialed Ivy.

"Hey," she said when her friend answered. "You asked me to come back. I don't think I can. But I think I might be able to do something better."

"What's that?" Ivy asked.

Sera looked at the silver thread on her wrist, felt the connection to Daemon humming through her veins, and made a decision that would change everything.

"I think I might be able to stop a war."

To be continued....