Tiberius stopped right in front of me.
His presence hit harder than I remembered. Like standing too close to a thunderstorm. That same barely-contained power, coiled under his skin like a serpent just waiting for an excuse to strike.
He leaned in again, slow, without blinking.
And then, with a breath that was almost too soft to hear, he sniffed me.
I froze, every muscle locking in place. The cold rush of air brushed against my neck and made the hairs on my arms stand on end.
His lip curled slightly, more in curiosity than disgust. He tilted his head.
"Do you smell that?" he asked, without looking away from me.
Eirene's expression shifted. The smile she'd been wearing faded into something quieter.
"Yes brother. It's different."
"Old," Tiberius muttered. "But fresh."
Lysander, standing just behind them, nodded once. "I caught it before."
Their eyes were all on me now.
I stepped back instinctively, but Eirene tightened her grip on my arm just enough to keep me in place.
"What is it?" I asked, throat dry.
Tiberius didn't answer me. He straightened, turned toward Lysander and Eirene, and said flatly, "Take her to Mother and Father."
I choked on air. "What—now?"
He finally looked at me again, eyes as pale and cold as frost. "Yes. Now."
Panic fluttered in my chest, quick and sharp. "I—I just got here. Can't I—?"
"What?" Lysander cut in smoothly, his mouth twitching into a crooked smile. "Afraid of a family reunion? They don't bite."
"Not unless they're feeling nostalgic," Eirene added, grinning as she smacked Lysander's shoulder.
I couldn't tell if she was joking.
I didn't think I wanted to know.
Eirene turned back to me, looping her arm through mine again, more gently this time. Her tone softened, but there was still an undercurrent of mischief to it. "Come on. Let's get this over with."
My legs didn't want to move. But I followed.
Because I didn't have a choice.
We passed through archways and long corridors, each more ornate than the last. Columns of black stone veined with silver. Portraits whose eyes seemed to follow us. Doors that breathed cold air from the cracks beneath them.
I could feel the walls watching me.
"This house," I whispered, "feels... alive."
"It is," Eirene said brightly. "Most of it, anyway. The wards are old magic. They like to keep an eye on newcomers."
"Great," I muttered.
We reached a set of doors that dwarfed anything I'd ever seen. Twelve feet high at least, carved with symbols I didn't recognize, and framed in silver so polished I could see my pale reflection in it.
Lysander reached for the handle.
My heart jumped into my throat.
"Wait—" I said, but it was too late.
The doors opened with a sound like thunder.
And beyond them…
A room bathed in soft golden light.
The ceiling arched high above like the sky itself, painted with ancient constellations that shimmered faintly as though alive. The air was cool, yet it hummed with something electric, like a storm barely held in check.
Two figures stood at the far end.
The woman was radiant in a flowing indigo gown that glowed like ink under starlight.
Her eyes, a pale lavender, fixed on me with such intensity I almost stepped back, but her expression held no malice. Only wonder. And perhaps a trace of worry.
Beside her was a man dressed in deep crimson, his dark hair streaked faintly with silver at the temples. His stance was calm, powerful in a quiet way.
And yet, something about him made my breath catch, he had the same impossible stillness as Tiberius.
The Lord and Lady of House Noctis.
I froze in place.
They approached slowly, as if not to startle me. I couldn't move. I could only watch as the Lady drew closer, her gaze never leaving mine. Then she stopped just inches away and inhaled gently.
Her eyes widened. "Truly...you smell... unique."
There was no disgust in her voice, just fascination. She looked at the Lord. "Do you smell it, Darius?"
He tilted his head and took a breath. "Yes, dear. A strange blend. Blood and something else... ancient."
I blinked. "Sorry," I said, biting my lip. "I didn't mean to smell weird."
The Queen's face softened into a laugh, light and melodic. "Oh no, darling. Not weird. Just rare."
Then her expression shifted into something more serious, more tender. "I'm so sorry for all of this. I imagine this hasn't been easy for you."
I tried to smile, but my throat burned. "Not really. It hasn't."
"I can't imagine what it must've taken," she said quietly. "To leave behind the only life you've known."
That did it. My eyes stung and I bit the inside of my cheek, hard.
She reached out and wrapped her arms around me gently.
The Lady of the realm was hugging me. I was shocked.
And somehow, it didn't feel overwhelming. It felt… safe.
"I promise," she murmured, "you'll have answers soon."
I nodded into her shoulder, my voice small. "I want them."
She pulled back with a smile and motioned toward a velvet couch near the hearth. "Very well. Come. Sit."
Just then, a servant entered the room silently, carrying a silver tray with two elegant goblets filled with dark crimson liquid.
Blood.
The Lord gave a slight nod toward them. "Take those back for now."
The servant bowed and retreated without a word.
I looked at him, surprised. "Thank you."
He smiled. "You've had enough shocks for one morning."
Then he turned, slowly, and looked me square in the eye.
"Leave Eirene, Lysander." He said to his children and they obeyed, closing the door.
"I think it's time," he continued, now facing me, "we told you the truth."