The morning sun filtered gently through the pale curtains of Elowen's room, softening the sharp edges of memory. She stood before the mirror in a slate-gray dress with subtle silver embroidery at the collar and hem. It wasn't floral or frilly, but it flowed around her like moonlight over still water—elegant, clean, and dignified.
There was always something about the way her clothing clung to her—an invisible aura, a whisper of something unspoken. Something... missing. As if her beauty was echoing a past she couldn't remember. As if her soul knew it came from royalty.
She ran a hand down the slate- gray fabric and sighed, still thinking about yesterday.
She had arrived home late, her ankle aching from the stumble she had taken in front of the Ravenshade carriage. Though it had healed almost entirely—thanks to the Sly devil who did something she couldn't explain—Marianne and Maeryn had noticed her slight limp.
"Oh, a limp and glowing cheeks?" Maeryn teased with a raised brow. "Must be a love fall."
"Hmm, such tragic romance," Marianne added, theatrically fanning herself. "Our poor Elowen, felled by fangs and charm."
"Oh such tragic romance..." Maeryn said acting dramatic.
They had laughed, and despite herself, Elowen laughed too. But her appetite was gone—her mind had been elsewhere.
And when she had fallen asleep, she'd dreamed not of fangs or flames—but of Lord Julian's hands brushing her wrist, his voice as cold as night, but oddly careful with her name.
She dreamt of Lord Julian's hands gently massaging her feet with balm and oil... shirtless with his sculptured torso and sly waist line as he stared at her deeply but cold.
She hadn't stirred when Marianne tiptoed in and gently rubbed balm on her ankle. But she had murmured something in her sleep, just loud enough.
"Julian…"
A gentle slap to her own cheek from Marianne had jolted her awake.
"You alright, love?" Marianne had asked with amused suspicion.
Elowen only giggled and buried herself beneath the covers.
Now, the ankle felt fine. But her chest was unsettled.
It was dawn now and it broke with new experience for her work experience.
"Another day to face the daredevil, Elowen…" she muttered to the mirror. "Heaven help me."
She stepped out gracefully onto the steps. The local carriage creaked and rolled through misty lanes until Eldhollow, it peaked in its glory and wonders, it wasn't called the city for nothing.
Elowen rested her back while sitting on the carriage bench, admiring the city of Eldhollow's view, she felt less bothered because she had gotten use to the hustle and buzz of the job.
'personal assistant indeed.'
The hooves of the carriage ran across the floor of Eldhollow in its beauty till she saw it... The Ravenshade Manor in its glory. It stood talk amongst other mansions and castles in the estate.
The Ravenshade Manor loomed ahead like a haunted cathedral. Elowen stepped down with a steady breath, smoothing her dress.
She walked past the gates till the entrance of the manor.
Butler Tomas stood at the entrance, tall and impassive, as always.
"Miss Grantham," he said with a curt nod.
"Good morning, Sire Tomas," she replied, offering a small smile.
They began walking through the familiar velvet-lined corridors. The silence between them was companionable until Tomas spoke, voice cool but ever perceptive.
"I'm glad you don't limp still, Miss Grantham."
Elowen blinked. "The pleasure is all mine… or rather the damned Lord's." She said the last part too quietly—but not quietly enough for a half-vampire.
Tomas's mouth didn't move, but the ghost of a smirk flickered in his eyes.
They reached Julian's wing, but not the study. The air felt thicker here.
"Master Julian has a task for you today," Tomas said, pausing at the door of her office.
"Oh? What would that be, Sire?" she asked, already dreading the words.
"He is to attend Count Gideon Thornvale's soiree tomorrow evening. You'll be his partner and assistant. The rest of the task details shall be given by the Lord himself."
Elowen's mouth parted. "Partner?"
Tomas nodded once. "Indeed, Miss Grantham."
Before she could ask another question, he opened the door to the study.
What... Empty.
She stepped inside, blinking. "Where had he gone to?" she muttered aloud, then immediately regretted it.
Behind her, Tomas's silence was louder than laughter.
Later, she sat alone on a velvet-cushioned sofa in her assigned study chamber, a sealed envelope on her lap. Her name... or rather ... daredevil given tittle was written in elegant ink:
To Wildflower.
She rolled her eyes,though her lips twitched.
"Too early in the morning to be sly," she mumbled, breaking the seal.
Inside was a crisp letter—his handwriting dark, controlled, and oddly seductive in its arrogance.
My dearest Wildflower,
Today's tasks are terribly important, and terribly entertaining (for me).
1. My designer will arrive with soiree outfits—select, approve, and arrange them. Try not to disappoint.
2. Choose a soiree gift for Count Thornvale. Nothing too warm. Certainly not as cold as me.
3. Finish the above with haste.
4. Eat dinner here. I insist you are overfilled and incapable of witty retorts.
5. Avoid my sister. She'll distract you with gossip and make you question your life choices.
Your ever-gracious Daredevil,
Lord Julian Ravenshade.
"Wow," Elowen muttered, setting the paper aside. "So subtle. So restrained."
She stood, half-amused, half-irritated, and walked to ring the bell to summon Tomas.
But before she could pull the cord, the door creaked open behind her.
She froze. "Who's there?"
A slender head peeked through the doorway. Golden curls, violet eyes, a mischievous smile.
Lady Seraphine.
"Hey Elowen!..." She squealed like a child who had seen her favorite toy. "I told him you'd hate the list," she said, sauntering in with theatrical grace. "But oh, darling… "I know what you're going to love." She giggled.
Elowen raised her eyebrows. Seraphine tipped her toes theatrically to the door and closed it carefully while smiling at Elowen. "you're going to love the gowns!!!"