The Vampire & Her Witch

The longest night of the year had come to the great city of Gaalen, the Royal Capital of Gaal, with a bone-chilling wind and flurries of snow that piled up in the corners of the windows of the Royal Academy’s Great Hall. Outside, beyond the neatly manicured grounds and the academy’s walls, the common folk who lived their lives in the shadows of the Royal Palace fretted over their stores of firewood and coal as the night grew colder still.

Inside the Royal Academy’s Great Hall, Crown Prince Henri DuGaal worried about nothing at all, or rather, the things he worried about had little to do with the weather and what an extra fierce winter meant for his ability to stay warm and fill his belly. Instead, his mind was consumed by the troubles of the moment.

The academy’s Midwinter Masquerade was in full swing this evening with more than a dozen minstrels tuning up for another lively dance, and Henri was running out of excuses for taking another turn on the dance floor.

By longstanding tradition, the academy accepted both students of noble birth and those of common origins, though the staggering cost of tuition kept all but the wealthiest and most well-connected commoners from passing through its gates. Still, the masquerade was supposed to be an evening when station could be set aside behind the illusion of anonymity, allowing students to mingle as they pleased.

A crown prince, however, was never anonymous, and everything about Henri’s outfit for the evening proclaimed his station to anyone who knew what to look for.

The long curve of his Golden Eagle’s mask caught the candlelight from the great chandeliers above, looking like a circlet upon his brow despite the lack of a true crown. The mask had been crafted for him by an artisan from the western quarter who had spent several months on it; a sweeping golden raptor’s face that came down over his brow and along the bridge of his nose to the sharp curve of a beak, with real eagle feathers worked in a long fan at the temples and across the crown of the head, their barbs gilded at the tips so that they caught the light when he turned.

The eyes had been cut large enough that he could see through them comfortably, and the inside had been lined with a soft silk that did not chafe against his temples even after three hours of wear. The mask matched well with his elaborately embroidered coat of rich brocade and the form-fitting tights that clung to his muscular calves and thighs. An arming sword at his waist would have completed the look, but the academy had long forbidden even ceremonial swords after a series of drunken duels had wounded the sons of two dukes in Henri’s grandfather’s era.

”Won’t you consider this dance with me, Lord Eagle?” Henri’s current worry asked, batting her lashes at him from behind her jewel-encrusted swan mask.

Lady Alice Teague, he imagined from the lilt of her voice and the fullness of her figure. Two years his senior and in her final year at the academy, she was no doubt looking for a ’memorable’ conclusion to the evening and the long. White feathers that brushed against the edges of her bodice, threatening to expose the pink tips of her generous endowments if they swayed too much with her motions, and the cut of her dress left her narrow shoulders and graceful neck completely bare in an almost blatant invitation.

”It would be my pleasure, Lady Swan,” Prince Henri said, handing off his half-empty crystal goblet to the cupbearer standing nearby as he took Lady Alice’s delicate hand in his.

Henri had been nursing the same cup of wine the entire evening, less as a precaution against poisoning and more because he refused to get caught up in exactly the sort of scandal that Lady Alice was attempting to provoke.

Not every member of the royal family had held themselves to the standards the current crown prince kept, but he’d seen firsthand the sort of depraved debauchery the sons of dukes and counts could fall into when they left the watchful eyes of their parents for the permissive grounds of the Royal Academy, and he had no desire to join their ranks.

A month of whispers and rumors would be the least of his worries if he sired a bastard with a claim to the throne and while most noblewomen had the sense to rid themselves of a ’complication,’ in exchange for a few favors from the Crown, Henri wasn’t one to take chances, especially with a man as shrewd as his father sitting on the throne.

”You’ve become even more dashing this year than you were at last year’s masquerade, Lord Eagle,” Lady Alice gushed as they stepped onto the dance floor and the music began to play. ”I feel as light as a feather in your hands,” she said, guiding one of his hands to sit lower on her generous hip.

”I’m hardly the most dashing man on the floor tonight,” Henri said politely as he did his best to ignore the way Alice pressed herself up against his body. ”Lord Lion is cutting quite the figure tonight,” he said, nodding at a man he believed to be Pierre, the eldest son of Duke Sean DuLac. ”And Lord Walrus is certainly a better dancer than I am,” he said, nodding to one of the tallest men at the masquerade who couldn’t be anyone other than Saavik Kuusik.

”They’re all stately lords, but none shine as brightly as you, my Lord Eagle,” Alice gushed as she attempted to lay her head on his chest, only to be foiled by the feathers of her own mask getting in the way. ”Nor as brave and bold...”

Henri doubted that. Saavik hailed from Kuusik March, and there were rumors that he’d fought and killed demons on the ice before his father sent him to the Royal Academy to learn the lessons that couldn’t be learned in the frozen north of the frontier. Compared to a man like him, Henri had little by way of accomplishments he could boast of, no matter how long his list of tournament victories had grown in recent years.

”You say that but...” he started to say, only to pause as he spotted a familiar figure lurking at the door to the academy’s Great Hall.

”Forgive me, Lady Swan,” Henri said politely as he pulled back from the dance. Pierron would never dream of interrupting the crown prince as he danced with a lady of the realm, but if he’d come here, then it meant that Henri’s father had some business with one of his sons, and while that could have meant his younger brother had been called home, the chances of that happening were as vanishingly rare as Lady Alice’s modesty seemed to be.

”It seems like duty calls,” Henri apologized as he bowed over the young lady’s hand. ”And I’m afraid I dare not ignore it, no matter how regrettable it is to leave your side tonight. Until next time, my lady,” he said with the best smile he could manage before beating a hasty retreat.