“My name is Yvette Videntis,” the redheaded Death Elf standing before Brynleigh exclaimed. Her voice was rather loud, and the vampire winced.

Yvette’s hair was a loose, strawberry waterfall down her back, and she drank from a ruby goblet. While Brynleigh’s dress was long and fit her like a glove, Yvette’s dress was short and strapless. It did little to support Yvette’s cleavage, and the material stopped mid-thigh. It was white, the traditional color most people wore to the Choosing.

The custom hearkened back to the Rose Empire when the Empresses would wear white on the day they met their potential husband during the opening ceremony of the Marriage Games.

Remembering her manners, Brynleigh forced herself to smile. “Nice to meet you.”

When Brynleigh had initially entered the Crimson Lounge a few minutes ago, she’d been taken aback by all the red. The entire room was awash in it. The couches, the rugs, and even the paintings were all shades of the same color. Scarlet, crimson, maroon, and cerise were splashed throughout the space.

Their theme was probably love, but Brynleigh would rather interpret it as blood. Each Choosing had its own theme. Once, it had been a jungle. Another time, it had been fire and ice.

This one was good. Perfect, actually. The color reminded Brynleigh of her deadly purpose.

Yvette smiled kindly. “What’s your name?”

Brynleigh didn’t exactly want to share her life story with the Death Elf, but they were the only two here. After a moment, she said, “Brynleigh de la Point.”

Her fingers went to her neck, twisting her necklace as a pang of agony ran through her. She shoved that emotion deep inside.

Once, she’d had another name. It was stolen by a rush of water in the middle of the night. Drowned, that name was forever gone. She’d given it up the same night her family had been taken from her. Now, following vampiric tradition, she used the name of her Maker.

The warmth in Yvette’s voice was genuine as she said, “Nice to meet you. I like your necklace.”

Brynleigh’s hand fell, and she grimaced. “Thank you. It’s an heirloom.”

She really didn’t want to get into it further.

“You’re a vampire, right?” Yvette asked sweetly, her gaze sweeping over Brynleigh’s. “I noticed your black eyes when you first walked in.”

Obsidian eyes, sharp fangs, and a predisposed hatred of silver and wooden stakes were things all vampires in the Republic of Balance shared.

“Yes.” Brynleigh nodded, hoping the questions would end soon.

Thank all the gods, a resounding gong sounded at the door, saving her from further interrogation. The exuberant Yvette went to greet the newcomer, and after exhaling and shaking out her shoulders, Brynleigh followed.

A beautiful elf with russet skin and silky midnight hair twisted in an intricate braid walked into the lounge. Gold earrings dangled from her pointed ears. Layers of gossamer white fabric hung over her shoulders, artfully covering the important bits of her body before pooling on the floor. She looked like a goddess brought to life.

The elf’s gaze swept over the crimson room before landing on the pair. She smiled. “Hello, my name’s Esmeralda Larousse, but most people call me Esme. It’s nice to meet you.”

Yvette handed Esme a ruby glass filled with wine of the same color. She seemed a natural hostess as she ushered Esme over to the couches. Brynleigh trailed behind, hoping that her lack of speed would save her from being the target of any more questions.

Luckily, it seemed Yvette was happy to learn about Esme. “What kind of elf are you?”

Esme sipped the wine. “A Light Elf, though my grandfather on my mother’s side is a dragon shifter.”

Yvette gasped and leaned closer, intrigue scrawled across her face. “Are you a descendant of the Carinoc dragons?”

“Mhmm.” Esme nodded, taking another sip.

Yvette looked impressed, and honestly, Brynleigh felt the same way. As a child, she’d often heard the story behind the Carinoc dragons. Their miraculous survival and subsequent contribution to the Battle of Balance were the stuff of legend.

“Can you shift?” Brynleigh asked, unable to help herself. She’d never met a dragon before.

Esme looked over the back of the couch and shook her head. “Unfortunately not. My elven side is much stronger, but my brother can.”

“Really?” Yvette’s eyes gleamed.

“Yep.” Esme took an enthusiastic swallow of her wine. “His dragon is emerald. It’s stunning.”