Chapter 57: Grace

Chapter 57: Grace

🌙𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐡

The peas were the size of grapes, and gleamed a vibrant green colour that lit up the dish. The meat, tender, its juices seeping onto the plate with a single touch of my fork. Yet, the breathtaking aroma only served to make my stomach turn harder.

Which was disheartening because if I had been served like this back home, my plate would have been cleaned down to the white china.

The tension at the table was like an arrow bow pulled taut. I ingested little pieces at a time so I would not puke.

No one spoke, knives and forks clanking. The silence unnerving, amplifying every sound.

Olya did not look at me, yet I felt her scrutiny still. And it was far worse.

Vladimir remained as imposing seated as he was standing.

His cold voice ordering me to repeat the walk on the parapet again and again. In the chill of the night, all I had felt was his presence—unyielding, inescapable, a weight that pressed down on my lungs even when he stood twenty feet below.

I blinked hard, forcing myself back to the present. The dining room. The clinking silverware. The food I couldn’t stomach.

My legs throbbed beneath the table, the pills the servant had given me doing little to dull the deep, bone-aching pain. I shifted slightly, trying to find relief, and immediately regretted it.

I reached for the salt, only to hit the cup of water on my left, spilling the liquid within. My chest became a beating drum as my heart hammered even faster.

I jerked up, anxiety suddenly clawing at my throat. "I am... sorry..." In my hasty reaction, the chair fell back from the force of my hitting it.

Warmth flooded my cheeks as I scrambled to clean up my embarrassing mess with a cloth nearby.

"Lilith," Vladimir’s voice stopped me dead.

Even now all I could hear was my trainer, wanting nothing less than perfection. But here I was unable to eat without reaping chaos. My gaze shifted to his.

"Sit down. Someone is coming to take care of it."

As if on cue another servant appeared. My trembling hands fell to my sides.

"Come and take the seat here." My breath hitched as he gestured to the seat right by his.

I dared to look into those winter depths. His expression was a locked door, but the sharp tug in my chest told me it was a veneer. He could feel something was wrong.

I sank my teeth into my bottom lip, hard, until I felt the skin give and break. The coppery taste of blood met my tongue.

I nodded, obeying.

The moment I picked up my fork again, Olya’s voice cut through the silence like a knife through silk.

"Graceful as ever, I see."

I froze.

She hadn’t looked up from her plate, her tone light, conversational. But the words landed with poison.

"Veronique never knocked over a single glass in all her years here," Olya continued, delicately spearing a piece of asparagus. "Even as a young girl, she moved through these hallways like she was born to them. Such poise. Such... refinement."

It seemed that Vladimir had curbed part of the venom she spat but not the sharpness.

My chest tightened.

Veronique.

The way Olya said the name,with such reverence, such pointed comparison, made it clear.

Whoever Veronique was, she was everything I wasn’t.

"She knew which fork to use without being told," Olya went on, still not looking at me. "Knew how to sit, how to speak, how to present herself at court functions. A natural."

Vladimir set down his knife with a soft clink.

"Aunt Olya."

His voice was quiet. A warning.

But Olya simply smiled, finally lifting her gaze to meet his. "I’m simply making conversation, nephew. Surely there’s no harm in reminiscing?" She turned her attention to me then, her expression pleasant but her eyes calculating. "You’ve had such a... different upbringing, haven’t you, dear? The human world must be so very different from ours."

I said nothing.

What could I possibly say?

That she was right? That I didn’t belong here? That every movement I made felt wrong, clumsy, inadequate? That with each second was caught off guard, getting grabbed by the neck, getting a gun to my head, waking up feets above the ground, finding out that I was very very disposable...

That if I lost the duel, Vladimir would only lose money and some time, but I would lose my right to life, right to destroy the grinning monster who’s eyes I had inherited?

I would lose it all.

Nothing of me would remain. My chest only grew tighter.

"I’m sure she’ll adapt," Olya continued, her tone dripping with false encouragement. "With time. And proper instruction. Though I suppose that depends on—"

"That’s enough."

Vladimir’s voice wasn’t loud, but it silenced the room completely.

I finally noticed the crackling thin sheet of ice across every surface, the temperature had dropped low...

Olya raised an eyebrow, but she inclined her head gracefully. "Of course." She took a sip of her tea, slightly bothered. "I meant no offense."

But the damage was done.

My hands trembled as I tried to cut my meat. The fork felt too heavy. The knife slipped.

Veronique never knocked over a single glass.

Such poise. Such refinement.

A natural.

And what was I?

A half-blood who could barely make it through breakfast without causing a scene. A hybrid who needed pills just to walk. Someone who didn’t know which fork to use, who flinched at every sound, who would never, ever fit into this world no matter how hard I tried.

The mark on my wrist pulsed faintly beneath my sleeve.

It didn’t matter, did it?

The mark. The deal. Vladimir’s claim.

None of it changed the fact that I was fundamentally wrong for this. That even if I survived the training—even if my body didn’t break, even if I made it through whatever impossible tests he had planned—I would still be the girl who knocked over water glasses while Veronique glided through life with effortless grace.

To be adored so effortlessly for all that she was...

Self hate whispered poison into my head like the old friend that it was.

And Vladimir...

My gaze flickered to him briefly. He’d resumed eating, his expression unreadable.

He could feel everything through that vortex that was his power. " My humiliation. My inadequacy. My despair.

And he’d chosen me anyway.

Why?

When he had someone else.

The thought hit me like ice water.

I’m not the only one.

There were more. Maybe Vladimir had a whole collection of us scattered throughout his territory, each one bearing the Lunar Crest, each one a potential candidate.

And I was just... the current trial run.

The one he was testing right now to see if I’d break.

My appetite vanished completely, but I forced myself to take another bite. Then another.

I would not give Olya the satisfaction of seeing me waver.

Even if every instinct screamed at me to run.

"Well," Olya said brightly, breaking the oppressive silence. "On a more pleasant note—the Moonstone Masquerade is in a week."

I felt Vladimir’s attention shift slightly.

"The Ascendant’s Gala," Olya clarified, though her tone suggested she knew he was well aware. "Since you’ve been voted in as High Alpha again, your attendance is, of course, mandatory." She smiled. "And I assume you’ll be bringing a companion this year?"

Her eyes slid to me, assessing.

"I haven’t decided," Vladimir said evenly, his eyes still on me.

Why?

"Haven’t decided?" Olya laughed, light and airy. "Vladimir, you can’t possibly attend alone. Not after everything that’s been said. The court will expect—"

"I said I haven’t decided."

The finality in his tone left no room for argument.

Olya’s smile tightened, but she simply shrugged. "As you wish. Though I do hope you’ll at least consider it. The Moonstone Masquerade is such a significant event. It would be a shame to waste the opportunity. Veronique will be there as always."

Her gaze lingered on me for just a moment too long.

Waste the opportunity.

I understood perfectly.

She wasn’t talking about Vladimir wasting an opportunity.

She was talking about me.

The girl who knocked over glasses. The girl who couldn’t walk without limping. The girl who would humiliate him in front of the entire court if he dared to bring her.

I kept my eyes on my plate, forcing down another tasteless bite.

"I’ll take it under advisement," Vladimir said coolly.

And that was that.

The conversation shifted. Olya began discussing some political matter I didn’t understand, her voice pleasant and smooth as if she hadn’t just spent the last ten minutes systematically dismantling what little confidence I had left.

I sat there, silent, trying not to think about masquerades or galas or the fact that in two weeks, Vladimir would have to make a choice.

Bring the clumsy half-blood who didn’t belong.

Or leave her behind where she couldn’t embarrass him.

I already knew which one he’d choose.

"So about your new beta..." Olya began.

"The examination is already underway across the realm," he replied, smoothly interrupting her. "The candidates will be chosen from the highest scorers as always."