Page 118 of The Ballad of the Vampire Prince

“Come now.” He walks out of the room.

I linger at the hearth, mourning my nightgown. Whatever gratitude I felt earlier shrivels up and dies. My fingers clench into a fist. I vow my vengeance to the dress and march down the passage.

I pass by the giant mirror in the hallway and glance at myself. My pitiful state with no shoes and no clothes on my back fuels my fury. I wrap the blanket tightly around myself and tie it under my arm, turning it into a makeshift dress.

Anger is my only weapon now.

I traipse the dark, silent hallway behind Svenn. I’m content to maintain my distance until a strong aroma of spice wafts from the next chamber. It coaxes me to drag my feet faster.

The dining hall is easily the most brightly lit part of the castle with hundreds of candles bedecking the walls and mantel.Another fireplace, larger than the one in the sitting room burns bright at the far edge of the chamber.

The delicious fragrance from the table entices my stomach to make its existence known.

“I made you something,” Svenn says, sounding almost thoughtful. He moves with the smooth elegance of an immortal and pulls out the oversize chair at the head of the table. So, this is my fate now as a captive to this vampire.

“Eat.”

“No.”

“Do you have better things to do with that mouth?” he asks.

I recall the things he said his bond wants to do to me and the question sounds dangerous now. My heart does a strange flip at the memory of everything he said, and I back a step.

“I’m not hungry,” I say with as much dignity as I can muster. I turn around and walk away, completely aware that Svenn’s gaze is burning a hole into my back. Maybe if I go on a hunger strike, he’ll be forced to release me.

I wander down the long passage on my own, gathering my thoughts and my wits.

What’s my next move, Un?

I wait for advice and warning from them. Their nagging is usually incessant whenever I am in a dangerous situation. There is nothing more threatening than being alone with a vampire in an abandoned castle.

Yet, my patrons in the dark remain silent.

I trail along a dim path illuminated by a few lanterns and glass candles. A door at the far end hangs ajar. Rusty hinges creak when I push it open.

“Heavens above…” I gasp into the silence.

Paintings fill every surface of the room, from the walls to the ceiling. There are even sketches and drawings on the floor.

But that is not what catches my breath.

What shocks me senseless is that they are all illustrations of me. The portraits are so realistic it’s almost like staring in the mirror.

No, that’s not it…

All this while, I’ve been putting on masks, a different one each day to keep pretending that I’m a High Elf. Some days when I look in the mirror, I’ve almost forgotten what I look underneath that mask.

These paintings are better than my own reflection because they reveal the real me, stripped to my core, bare from any layers of covering.

There is me when I’m overjoyed, laughing and smiling, then there is me when I’m sad and melancholic, then there is a painting of me with an emotion so raw I can hardly describe it.

Svenn has captured a side of me I’ve never seen before. The fact that he somehow sees me better than I could ever see myself makes me want to hide.

I’m equally touched and scared.

His paintings of me are so beautiful, they almost fool me into believing that I am. The bond made him do this?

I feel his presence lurking behind me and I turn. Svenn enters the room, the air around us seems to be sucked into his void of shadow and smoke.

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