So, I was going to make you wait until either the weekend or next week at the latest for this one, but I was doing a final comb-through of it and forgot how much I thoroughly enjoyed this particular chapter. That, and then RegencyPoet (who happens to be a dear friend of mine) suggested I post it today so I guess you can thank her as you're getting the chapter now instead of later. ;)

But before I toddle off to go drown myself in work (being an independent adult is SO not what it's all cracked up to be), I wanted to thank those who reviewed chapter 5 - the invisible reader, Scarlet Empress, She-Devil Red, Noface, Bloodsired (of course I remember you!), RegencyPoet, and the anonymous Guest - this one is for you guys!

Would love to hear your thoughts on this most recent installment. This chapter has just a little bit of Dracula in it, near the end, but have no fear. He'll make a proper appearance very soon. Patience, my lovelies. ;)

Forgive any errors I may have overlooked and enjoy!

VI

The Fragmentation of a Concubine

Jovial sounds resonated off the high ceiling within the dining room of the Valerious manor as tears streamed down the company's faces. They continued laughing heartily in their seats, some clutching their stomachs in attempt to dull the pain of aching muscles, others covering their beet-red faces.

Hera couldn't remember the last time she had laughed this hard; in fact, the experience almost seemed foreign to her as she wiped the tears from her flushed cheeks, struggling to regain her composure. Velkan continued to chuckle as he motioned toward his hysteric sister.

"Anna, I cannot believe you," he exclaimed, finally managing to calm down. Anna, however, was still struggling. "Could you imagine what would happen if you said that to the Count's face?"

Hera chortled before taking another sip of her wine.

"I think she's too hysteric, Velkan, to even care," she pointed out.

Anna wiped the tears from her cheeks as she attempted once more to regain her composure.

"I just can't believe I had a dream about him… and in that setting, of all settings!" Anna replied. "I mean seriously! He was in a dress, Velkan! A dress!"

Hera started giggling once more at the thought of the dream Anna had shared with them over dinner. She could still see in her mind's eye, Velkan shooting wine out of his nose when he had first started to laugh and that mental image made Hera's laughter even harder to control.

"Anna, I think you've had too much to drink," Velkan teased, earning a playful smack from his sister. Eventually though, the merriment died down and they continued to eat once more.

"So," Hera began, not exactly a fan of the silence, "it would appear that Count Dracula is much more than your family's enemy. He is clearly an excellent source of entertainment as well."

"That monster has played a very personal role in every Valerious' life," Velkan said between mouthfuls of food. "There have been some ancestors of ours who were never killed directly by him, but were driven to madness because of him."

"You mean, some of the deaths in your family have been indirect," Hera clarified with a more serious tone.

"Yes," Anna replied. "There was one particular ancestor of ours, whom legend tells was driven so mad by the Count that he believed his wife was Dracula's lover and that his son had been conceived in an orgy involving the vampire's brides. He killed his family while they were sleeping, driving wooden stakes through their hearts and then chopping off their heads in their own beds before killing himself by ingesting poison. No one found the family until three days later when someone had passed by and complained to the local magistrate of the smell."

"Please Anna, we're eating!" Velkan insisted, but nobody seemed to hear him.

"He killed his own family?" Hera replied, too astonished to believe it.

Anna nodded her head grimly.

"That's just one of the tales," she answered, taking another drink while Hera sat back in her seat, finishing off the potatoes on her plate.

"How is it that you have all managed to stay sane through this? I mean, being hunted since birth, never really enjoying much of a normal childhood…"

"It sounds rather grim, yes, but when it comes down to it, all this family really knows is death," Anna explained.

"But we have had our share of pleasures in life, despite our legacy," Velkan added, not liking the pessimistic mood in the room. "There were moments, when our country needed it most, when Dracula proved to be a great ally in the times of war against the Turks and other invaders. But when Transylvania enjoys relative peace, that's when the feud starts up once more."

"Supposedly, the Count is a military genius," Anna added. "Everyone is surprised that it's taken him over four centuries to finish off our family."

"Perhaps you prove a greater challenge than he initially anticipated," Hera offered, completely unaware of the small smile and thoughtful staring of Velkan, aimed in her direction.

"How much do you know about Count Dracula, Hera?" Velkan suddenly asked, the question catching the woman slightly off guard.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean just that. How much do you know? What do you know? Do you only know about just the legend of Dracula, or do you know the history of the man himself?"

Hera sat back in her seat for a moment or two, looking rather thoughtful as she pondered his question before answering it.

"I know a great deal about both subjects, to be honest, but I find it's always been rather difficult to distinguish what is fact and what is mere folk-lore. Which reminds me of a question I wanted to ask you two – how did this whole feud begin? I mean, there are several versions of the story; I'm just curious as to which one is true and which isn't."

Anna and Velkan glanced over at each other and both shrugged.

"We don't really know how it began, to be honest with you," Anna replied. "It's just been somewhat of a 'family tradition,' if you will. I'm sure the whole story is up in the family archives somewhere. You're welcome to check it out, if you wish."

"I'll probably take you up on that offer," Hera replied with a slight smile.

When they had finished eating, the servants came in to clean, leaving the three to congregate in the library where the brandy was then distributed.

"Why are you so interested in Count Dracula?" Velkan wondered aloud as they made their way out of the dining room.

"I don't really know," Hera admitted a little sheepishly. "Ever since I was a little girl and had first heard his name, something about him intrigued me. Finding information on the man himself is rather difficult to do. I guess you could say it's almost as difficult as killing the vampire himself," she added playfully as Velkan stealthily slipped his arm around hers, chuckling at her comment.

"Yes, that task is proving to be near impossible," the gypsy prince remarked. "No matter how close we get, he always seems to be one step ahead of us."

"He's had over four centuries of experience, Velkan. Give the man some credit," Hera replied, taking a seat in one of the sofas by the fire.

"Well, even our ancestors faced the same problem," Anna explained. "Our forefathers, after Dracula's creation, became a legendary group of gypsy vampire hunters. History says that each time Dracula was supposedly 'destroyed,' it was always by a Valerious, which is rumored to be one of the reasons why he loathes our family so much. But," and the princess sighed heavily, "it would appear he continues to outwit us. I mean, in the last ten years alone we've shot him, stabbed him, clubbed him, staked him through the heart, sprayed him with holy water, dragged him into the sun, and still he lives! Nobody knows how to kill Dracula. Well, nobody, that is, except you, albeit allegedly."

The frustration in Anna's voice was not lost on Hera, and although the two had grown to become good friends, it was evident that the gypsy princess still wasn't too happy with the fact that Hera knew how to destroy their family's greatest enemy and wouldn't tell them… or couldn't as she had often insisted.

"Anna, I-"

"Don't worry about it. It's not your fault that demon won't stay dead. I don't know why he just won't let us finish the job; nobody would miss him anyway."

Hera sent Anna a mildly censorious look.

"That's awfully cold, of you, Anna," Hera suddenly said, earning strange looks from both of the Valerious siblings. "I understand that you resent him and those like him for what he's reportedly done to your relatives, but I wouldn't be so quick to condemn when you can't even tell me why the feud began in the first place. Did it ever once occur to you that Dracula was a man once? That for all intents and purposes, he still is one? He lived once. He was actually a great man at one stage, a warrior and this nation's hero. And despite everything, I believe that there are still elements of that which remain."

Anna sent Hera a bewildered look.

"If you're suggesting that monster is a human-being with emotions, I hate to ruin your unnervingly admirable view of him, but Count Dracula was and still is to this day, nothing more than a demon from hell sent to torment and murder my family."

"Anna's right, Hera," Velkan replied as delicately as he could, sensing an argument brewing between the two females. "Dracula, when he was alive, killed hundreds of thousands of people, Turks and Transylvanians alike, and he did it without remorse. That man, no matter what you desire to think, has been a monster for all his life. He feels nothing and cares for no one outside of himself."

Hera sensed that she was grossly outnumbered when it came to her opinion, and as she sat there, lying under the hard and borderline offended expressions of the prince and princess, she found herself uncomfortable with their accusations and eager willingness to pass judgment on a person she was certain they didn't even know.

Hera stood up from her seat and moved over to the open window that led out to the terrace, in sudden need of some fresh air.

"But isn't it even remotely possible," she continued, "that all of this could just be one big misunderstanding? You forget, I know the tales of Prince Vlad of the house Drăculești. I've heard the nightmarish crimes he was accused of, but I also know that a great many of his crimes were born out of rumor and exaggeration, advertised as truth by the Turks and the Germanic peoples in the surrounding countries. They were afraid of him because for a time, he was unstoppable. He was a fierce patriot and devoted his life to protecting his people. I refuse to be so quick to judge him."

The looks she was now receiving from both Velkan and Anna were borderline horror.

Was she being… sympathetic?

"History has proven to be grossly inaccurate hundreds of times," Hera explained, "and my gut tells me that this just might be one of those instances. I'm not saying that he didn't do some of those monstrous things, that the struggles your family has been forced to endure at his hand aren't valid. Nor am I suggesting that he deserves to be immediately forgiven for the crimes he commits today, but I…"

Hera exhaled loudly as she leaned against the open window, staring out at the night sky.

"…I can't help but think that buried deep within that vampire is the man who existed centuries ago, the man of valor, honor, and respectability. I think the reason why he became the monster he was and is, is because he was driven. No man or woman is born evil. It is our circumstances and our choices that shape who we are."

"Even if what you say is true," Anna interrupted, "that doesn't excuse what he's done. He is still an evil man."

"But is anyone ever thoroughly bad? Don't all villains view themselves as the heroes of their own stories in one light or another? Don't we all justify our actions? I know enough of history and people to understand that moral absolutes are a rarity. People aren't strictly black and white as you like to think they are – often times they are shadows of gray."

Hera turned around and glanced at both Anna and Velkan who were watching her now with keen interest, all three of them completely unaware of the pair of attentive ears that were listening within the shadows outside the window.

"I mean, consider for a moment – how could a man of God, someone who worshiped and fought in God's name, turn so horrifically evil all of a sudden as you suggested over dinner?"

No one had an answer to that question. In fact, this new light that Hera was shedding on the Valerious' sworn enemy was both alarming and difficult to swallow. She moved out onto the terrace, staring out at the stars as she continued.

"What drives someone to change so drastically? To leave all they knew behind, to forget the ones they loved for a life bound to the devil's chain. To become Lucifer's whore?"

Hera's speech came to a halt as she abruptly turned to look beside her, and in a movement that was momentarily confusing, the woman suddenly threw a punch into the shadows. But the accompanying sound of a woman's cry and a bone crunching smack quickly followed and after a flash of white and pale green with a head of dark hair was seen tumbling over the edge of the terrace, Velkan and Anna realized what it was that Hera had just struck:

Verona.

Hera was now rubbing her hand, wincing.

"Damn it, that woman has a face of steel!" she groaned.

"How did you… I didn't even…" Anna began, but Hera managed a chuckle, despite the pain her knuckles were in.

"I could see the remnants of her dress floating in the breeze. Well that, and the overpowering stench of death kind of gave her away."

Velkan smirked.

"Impressive."

"Does she eavesdrop on you two often?" Hera inquired and the Valerious siblings both shrugged.

"Not that we know of, although now that you mentioned it… "Anna shrugged.

"Remind me in the morning that we need to beef up your security."

"Is your hand okay?"

"Yeah, I think so. Verona has to be my least favorite bride of them all," Hera explained, although the proclamation was only partially true. She had a sneaking suspicion that the woman she had just assaulted could hear her just fine. "That neck thing makes me want to scratch my eyes out, her shrilling voice makes my ears bleed, and her doormat personality in general makes me physically ill. That, and she's completely flat. I mean, what is she? A boy in a dress?"

Anna laughed at Hera's insulting description, but stopped suddenly when she saw who had just appeared on the terrace behind Hera.

"Hera! Behind you!" Velkan shouted, moving toward her, but a moment too late.

As quickly as Hera had turned around, Verona had the woman by the throat, a look of promised death in her glowing eyes. The bride's once lovely face was now marred with a terrifying rage as her fangs lengthened and her jaw began to extend in a very unnatural manner, irises burning bright as her complexion drained of color.

"How dare you!" the vampire hissed as she clenched down on Hera's slender neck, pressing down on her windpipe and bruising the recently healed flesh. Velkan shouted the woman's name and took a step forward to intervene, but the bride let out a roar in his direction, her expression threatening. "Another step closer and she dies!"

Velkan stopped in his tracks in a stubborn, yet obedient fashion. Anna made a move to see if she could succeed where her brother had failed, but to no avail. Verona noticed the princess' step and she hissed in warning, her grip intensifying around Hera's throat and the mortal let out a raspy cry of distress as she grabbed hold of the Verona's wrist, trying to pry the vampire's bony, but powerful hand from her neck.

Like-mistress-like-master Hera thought comically to herself, but the pain was suffocating her humor rather quickly.

Verona was a force to be reckoned with her own right, but she wasn't nearly as powerful her master, which provided Hera with the ability to pry Verona's hand away just slightly so she could gasp for air every now an then. She looked directly into the vampire's eyes in a brave fashion as she struggled for a proper breath.

"Hello, Verona," Hera gasped. "At last we meet."

Verona's attention, which had been on the Valerious siblings, returned to her newfound prisoner, a look of intrigue in her menacing gaze.

"Tell me, how long have you been spying on me?" Hera asked, still fighting to free herself from the vampire's grasp.

Apparently, these Transylvanian vampires had a thing for strangling people.

"That is none of your concern," Verona snapped, struggling against the mortal's concerted effort to remove her hand.

The vampire's fangs sank back into her mouth slightly, but her eyes remained in their luminous state as she stared Hera down, trying to capture her mind but the mortal was smarter and stronger willed than the bride had anticipated.

"Actually, I do believe it is of my concern," Hera replied boldly, each couple of words separated by a desperate gasp for air. "Considering the fact that it is my privacy that is being invaded."

Dracula's eldest bride flashed Hera an amused grin, her spirit and wit in the given situation deeply amusing. Therefore, as a reward, Verona loosened her grip, allowing Hera more air, but still she held her in her hand in case the mortal should test her patience.

"You are very bold, Miss Garret, to not only speak in such a manner considering your predicament, but to strike me? Very foolish indeed. I don't see why my master takes such interest in you."

Verona had unwittingly said too much in those few sentences and it was all Hera needed to arm herself.

"Your master has taken an interest in me?" Hera asked. "I'm flattered to be the subject of such admiration, and from such a powerful man, too."

Verona laughed.

"You are excessively diverting indeed. I can see why these Valerious swine have taken such a liking to you," the bride replied, glancing up at the gypsy prince, who blushed slightly. "Particularly a certain prince…"

Hera glanced over at Velkan and then looked back at Verona.

"Most men take a liking to me, one way or another," Hera answered with noted arrogance. "It would appear even pompous-ass vampire kings do, too."

"I would not speak so disrespectfully of my master if I were you," Verona warned, her grip tightening on Hera's throat again. "He is more powerful than you could ever imagine. What would he need a mortal for?"

"What would he need three wives for? I figure one would be enough."

That was certainly the wrong thing to say, and Hera discovered that the moment her air supply was cut off. But the comment was necessary, as Verona was unwittingly walking into a verbal trap. Hera gripped the bride's wrist with both hands, trying to pull it away from her neck so she could speak.

"He doesn't love you, Verona. You know this," Hera managed. Verona glared at the mortal woman in her hand with such hatred, such malevolence; but Hera could see the hint of doubt in the vampire's eyes. Hera needed to feed that doubt. "Why would he sire two more brides if he loved only you? You're nothing but a whore to him, Verona, a vessel to carry and deliver his young. The means to an end. Something with which to pass the time."

Verona now placed both hands on the woman's neck and she pressed down hard, depriving Hera completely of air and she watched as tears ran down the mortal's face.

"Lies!" the bride hissed. "My master loves me! He loves us all the same!"

Hera dug her nails into the vampire's dead flesh, getting her to recoil for just a few precious seconds, just enough time she needed to gasp for more air.

"Then where are your sisters?" Hera rasped.

God help her, Hera could already feel the bruises forming. Tears of pain were now pouring from her eyes, but she had managed to get a single finger between her neck and Verona's hand, which gave her barely enough oxygen to continue speaking.

"Why does he send you away while your younger sisters stay behind?"

Hera's head began to throb as her body fought to feed her brain the blood and oxygen it was being deprived of, but to no avail. She slowly began to shrink beneath the vampire's grip to the point where she was certain she was going to die, when at long last, Verona shoved her up against the outside wall on the terrace, releasing her throat.

Hera fell to the ground at the woman's feet as she gasped for air, coughing violently while gingerly touching her freshly bruised neck to assess the damage.

After recovering, Hera blinked her tears away and she looked up at the very noble and lovely bride towering over her, the vampire's eyes gazing out at the night sky. Hera recognized the expression in the woman's eyes for she had possessed it herself on many occasion. It was one of confusion, hurt, and the deepest amount of doubt, the kind that gnawed at one's insides like rot to wood.

"You know I speak the truth," Hera managed, her voice still a little raspy. "And you cannot deny it."

Verona glanced down at the mortal who was still kneeling on the ground at her feet.

Although her loyalties pleaded with her not to do it, Verona, with a wave of her hand, shut and locked the windows that led from the terrace to the library and she shut the drapes, forbidding the Valerious' to listen. Their protestations and struggle to get outside could be heard from within, though somewhat muted.

Hera looked up at the vampire expectantly, but Verona's face showed no sign of maliciousness or foul intent. In fact, she appeared rather desperate.

"What am I to do?" she asked Hera in hushed tones, the Count's most powerful bride now appearing to be more like a mortal woman, desperate for guidance. The bride could see in the human's expression the confusion that possessed her mind, why someone who had just tried to kill her was now asking for her help. Verona answered Hera's unasked question. "You're the neutral piece on the board, Hera Garret. Desired on both sides, but refusing to choose one."

Hera managed to climb to her feet.

"How do you know I haven't chosen a side?" she asked carefully.

"If you had, you would not have been defending my master as you had been just moments ago," Verona pointed out.

"I wasn't defending him," Hera quickly countered, "merely pointing out the flaws in the Valerious' mode of thought. Although, admittedly, I've never really liked being in the middle of fights, no matter how trivial they seem. But I hate picking sides even more. Even though both have their aspects that seem honorable and right, each one holds fault in some way. Understand, though, Verona, the Valerious' are my friends, even if they are your enemies. But I have no quarrel with you."

The vampire's lips curved into a pleased smile.

"I am glad to hear it," she answered. "From what I've observed of you in the last few weeks, it would be most unfortunate to have you as an enemy, Hera Garret."

Hera couldn't help but chuckle at the comment, although doing so sent her into another fit of coughs.

"That is very gracious of you, Verona. Thank you. A pity your master is too blind to see what he has in you. Most men are. In fact, now that I think about it, it was because of a man that you joined the Count, is it not?"

Hera's comment took Verona by surprise.

"How did you…?"

"I think I read something about you once, I just never drew the parallel until now. His name was David, wasn't it?" Verona didn't answer, but Hera could tell by her expression that she had, in essence, hit the nail on the head. "The only man who ever truly loved you, and you left him because of an argument and an offer of power."

"I was a young, naïve fool," Verona explained anxiously. "When the master came along, I…" Hera noticed the hint of sadness in Verona's eyes. "…I was smitten by him. He warned me that he would never love me, but he offered me protection, affection when I needed it, a place to stay, everything I wanted—money, silks, gold, jewels—he offered me an immortality of being comfortable and beautiful, of having a home. What I failed to realize was that I already had all I needed in David…"

Hera listened intently to the vampire, this new piece of information intriguing.

"Do you love him, Verona? Do you love Count Dracula?"

The bride thought about it before answering.

"I am devoted to him, but he has never shown such devotion to me. I am to compete with two other women for his attention and though there are moments when I truly believe he harbors some kind of affection for me, it is not enough. I am not enough… not for him," she answered sorrowfully.

Hera opened the window that led into the library as she turned to go back inside and the moment she did so, Anna and Velkan advanced quickly to attack, but Hera held her hand up in defense, placing herself in front of the vampire on the terrace, puzzling all parties in attendance.

"Leave her be," Hera insisted. "She won't hurt anyone. Not now." Hera turned toward Verona and smiled sadly. "She knows the truth."

"What truth?" Anna asked, but Hera never answered her question.

"Go home, Verona. We will fight another day," and with that, Verona took off into the night sky.

They watched Dracula's eldest bride disappear into the night, and the moment she vanished from view, Anna grabbed Hera by the arm rather forcefully and confronted her.

"What is the matter with you?" she shouted. "We had the perfect opportunity to kill her! One less vampire in the world! Why did you let her go?"

"Oh so we should have taken advantage of the fact that she was off her guard just now?" Hera snapped without missing a beat. "She's not just another monster for you to murder, Anna. She may not be human like you anymore, Anna, but she's not completely devoid of feeling or principles! Or is that truth too inconvenient for you?"

Anna's mouth shut instantly as Hera stepped toward her with an authority that neither she nor Velkan had ever witnessed in her before.

"I never said I was on your side in this war, Anna Valerious," Hera shot angrily. "I never asked to join one side versus another. Don't think for one minute that I don't know why you offered to let me stay here. It's so you can watch me, so you can make sure I stay out of your enemy's hand. Well that's fine, and I appreciate the courtesy. Lord knows I have no desire to seek shelter with a nest of rapacious vampires. But let me be perfectly plain – I am neutral in this battle and I will remain that way. I have no quarrel with you or with Dracula and until one side proves itself to be more right than the other, then and only then will I make a choice. But neither has offered me such, and until that time comes, it would be best if you didn't expect me to do what you do so easily – kill without thinking, judge what you do not grasp, hate what you cannot understand!"

With that, Hera stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

The flight home felt longer than Verona remembered it being as she soared over the snow-capped Carpathians towards her master's sanctuary: the icy fortress. She had always known the Count never truly loved her, but perhaps she had convinced herself that he had, once upon a time and in his own way. But now, with this evening's events and Hera's words stewing with her already existent insecurities, Verona couldn't help but feel like she had been betrayed, betrayed by her own feelings and emotions.

She loved the Count, or at least, she thought she did.

Now she wasn't even sure, and not being certain made her terribly uneasy.

Verona caught sight of Castle Dracula and she flew down and into the foyer with grace and ease. Instead of making her way through the front room and towards the stairs, she lingered for a time, observing and appreciating what surrounded her for a few solitary moments.

The sight of her unborn young littering the ceiling of the foyer was a bittersweet sight. Maybe Count Dracula did love her? He had, after all, pursued the means of bringing their offspring to life because it was what she wished. Wasn't that a sign of love, or at the very least affection?

She could still remember the first time her master had brought her here, after he had sired her. It had just been the two of them at that time, all of his attentions and devotions on her and her alone. Now, as the incessant giggling and unrestrained moaning from upstairs reminded her, she had to share those attentions and devotions.

Dracula's eldest bride had never been particularly fond of the concept of sharing. She had always been rather possessive, but she also had always been very private about her feelings, very submissive when it came to her needs. What her master desired always came first. She had made that pledge all those centuries ago, and since then her devotions and loyalties were to him and him alone. If that meant sharing him with two other women, Verona had never had the desire or inclination to protest.

Until tonight.

The bride moved effortlessly up the long staircase in which she passed her master's office, the door wide open so she could see what was transpiring within the room. Aleera and Marishka were busy pleasuring their master and the Count, who was understandably distracted by the present dalliance, was completely unaware that his eldest had returned.

Verona stood in the hall, silently observing as her younger sisters kissed and fondled one another andtheir master, who despite his present state, seemed virtually unmoved by their attentions.

Everything in his eyes was so distant, as if he oozed obligation, and for the first time in her life, Verona could see it and she silently hated him for his deception. She resented him for lying to her, for making her believe. Although ignorance had been a wonderful thing, she realized she could never go back to it – not when the brazen truth was staring her unabashedly in the face.

Dracula's gaze caught that of Verona as he finally sensed her presence and he extended his hand to her from beneath the tangled flesh of his avid lovers.

"Ah, my devoted one, what news from Visceria?" he asked.

Verona, in any normal situation, would have come to him, heeded his calls, joined in with her sisters and losing herself to the carnal gratification that came with pleasing her master. But right now, all she did was stare at the scene before her, and though Verona was no prude, she was disgusted by what she saw.

"Nothing of interest, my lord," she said with barely constrained ice.

"Nothing of interest?" Marishka cooed, her shameless behavior that had never phased Verona before, now repulsing her. "What a sad waste of time."

As much as she hated Aleera, she found herself despising Marishka even more, especially in that moment. Aleera was still new, easy to manipulate, to frighten into submission – but Marishka. Marishka had long outgrown her fear of the eldest.

The dark-haired woman's glare was frigid.

"I find it a sad waste of time being a mindless strumpet versus a devoted servant, Marishka," came her refute, the frostiness in her tone catching the attention of all in her presence. "Clearly, you know and see very little difference between the two, when the distinction is more apparent than you think. Then again, you're a just a harlot and nothing more. One shouldn't expect anything less… from either of you."

With that, Verona walked briskly down the hall, ignoring the look of astonishment on both Aleera and Marishka's faces, along with her master's calls for her to return. She instead materialized to the other side of the fortress, walking briskly down an abandoned hall, searching for some place of solitude.

At last, she found it – a small sitting room, filled with old, dusty cobweb-covered furniture. She shut the door behind her and moved into the unused room, sitting down beside the window at the far wall in the dark, soon staring up at the full moon outside as she felt foreign tears prickling in her eyes. They clouded her vision before spilling over her dark lashes, freezing as they ran down her unblemished cheeks.

Why was she so upset? She had never been bothered much about her situation before, where had this sense of conscience come from? Why did this hurt so badly?

Verona knew why… but the Count was at a loss.

He stood in the shadows of the room, his presence unknown to her, simply because he wished it. But his eyes observed in the darkness, wondering what had caused his most devoted and loyal of brides to be so cold and unfeeling, so testy and bold, and so… uncharacteristically miserable.

What had made her say the things she had?

Why did she even care?

What had happened in Visceria tonight, he wondered silently to himself.

But he wouldn't find out any time soon. Only two people could give him that information. One would refuse to do so, and the other would remain unknown to him. For the time being, anyway.