Theon thought Orion was an interesting child, to say the least. That was a flickering thought which had occurred to him, every once in a while, ever since his nephew was three. That was around the same age when he himself committed his second crime.

  In some human cultures, matricide was one of the most severe sins imaginable. That had been his first sin. And, the second sin had been not much lower in its severity than the first. Death would have been a merciful blessing but here he was. Not a blessing for any living being on earth including himself.

  So, when he looked at this child, running around with the children of sentinels and palace servants, in the courtyard way out of the corridor and the front hall he was at, he found himself in him. The brown curls, sparkling blue eyes, and those chubby reddish cheeks. Not that any of Orion’s features resembled him. The entire palace adored his nephew. “Look at him. He has the sunny sky in his big round eyes,” remarked the visiting countess, sitting at the far end of the hall and seeing him through the window.

  She had never seen the sunny sky in her long boring life. She was a conservative, who loved routines and norms as nearly as her life. She would open the windows at 7 pm sharp and would close before the sun rose without fail every single day.

  “You’re right, love,” agreed the count while picturing his new concubine waiting for him in his separate chamber, naked.

  Thoughts would penetrate into his mind while he was not paying attention. Orangey rays of the everlasting lamps fell over every occupant in and out of the hall.

  But, the countess was right about Orion’s eyes which were blue like day sky and were uncharacteristically alive, while his own were neither. His eyes resembled two sets of diamonds under lenses. They had colors and pigments, but only enough to be 'freaky'. Not that those sentinels would say that to his face, they only thought so.

  He shifted his gaze from the boy to the words before him.

  Look at them, they faded in and out of his head. He had been reading this book or pretending to do so for the past hour; nobody had realized he hadn’t turned another page. While he did not know the normal state of the entrance hall, it was occupied by only three people, except for the sentis, today.

  Swish! The wind picked up with the movements of his kind. Next, it was followed by brilliant violent fabric landed over his meticulously polished black leather shoe. Well, here it was, another conversation that should not begin.

  “Pardon, my lord.”

  He looked up from some hundred pages long leather-bound book someone unknown had placed on this marble table beside him. The countess had large bosoms which was highlighted by a tight corset. She was a tall female, the same height as her husband who was by her side with her hand around his arm.

  “Would you…?”She glanced down at her handkerchief.

  She was trying to look coy. That was his best judgment without reading her mind and it had taken him a few pregnant seconds.

  “Of course my lady.”

  With the tilt of the tip of his shoe, the handkerchief flew into his fingers, or so it seemed, against gravity.

  “Impudent!” scolded the count, his round mouth twisting above his narrow chin.

  Few people in the kingdom knew who he was or his existence. This couple considered him a young low-rank noble visiting the palace. Kicking at a countess’s handkerchief was such an intolerable behavior for them.

  He handed her the handkerchief and she batted her lashes. Ignoring her angry husband, she began, “Would you like—”

  “Not really.” He muttered, lowering his eyes back to the book. “Go on now. You’re disturbing my night.”

  The countess’s eyes widened.

  The count barked, his fangs lengthening. “What did you just say?!”

  “Now. That’s nothing to be furious about.” He rose to his feet and cupped their faces one by one. Gave a peck on their cheeks to look convincing.

  When he was back in his seat, they gazed at him, eyes glazed.

  By the time they proceeded their way to the inner halls, they had remembered him as a friendly new face they had encountered tonight and nothing more.

  The problem was: that he would start any friendly interaction, intending to end it as quickly as possible. Without resorting to erasing or manipulating any memory. But, seven hundred years of isolation had not been helpful in polishing his social attitudes and despite his initial intentions, he would end up revealing what he was not: a friendly, gentleman vampire.

  He turned another page. He finally read the words. It was about a betrayal and he did not agree with the author on how she saw it. Human women, they were too kind. Some human men too. He would have eradicated whoever betrayed him. If they fled, he would turn the world upside down to find them. That was one reason he had come down from his tower tonight if you’d take the initial betrayal of a father into this millennium-old vengeance.

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  No. Of course not. He was not waiting for that father here. He had been in the grave very long ago. He was waiting for someone else.

  There he came, a tall thin male in a long dark coat. A messenger from one of the furthermost territories. Those long boots had covered human lands that sprawled between the king’s sector and his. His baron had sent him out to ask financial resources from the palace and he had questions about his new baron. He shut the book and intercepted him in the middle of the hallway.

  He had surprised him. Messengers were of the fastest vampires; they could easily run 200 miles per hour without a need to slow down or stop except when they needed to be fed. He had believed nobody could shock him in speed.

  “You’ve come such a long way. Let me escort you to the throne room, my lord.” He slung his arm over the messenger’s shoulders.

  “I’m no lord, sir. Thank you.” He was stunned but was afraid to be rude to him by shirking off his arm.

  Theon was dressed in a green coat, embroidered with black threads, over his dark brown vest and black dress pants. Expensive clothing of a noble. After a walk to the throne room with him, he had confirmed the messenger had no knowledge of his identity. The baron in his memory was a mundane figure who overindulged in pleasures and nothing more. He might have to pay a visit to those fringe sectors if he wanted to learn something substantial.

  He turned his feet to his tower with no more plan than to fantasize what he would do to the person he was searching for if he were indeed alive. His days had been like this, for centuries, filled with cold fury, and an unquenchable desire for revenge. He enjoyed the dark well he had drowned himself in. Ophelia thought she could save him. She would whisper words into his ears when she lay with him, the things that might bring him to loosen his mental claws on the poison he had been coating his soul with.

  Ophelia was the adoptive daughter of Princess Meriall. She arrived at the City of Tenebrosus with her family twenty years ago and had been made a countess years later. She insisted she’d rather be here by his side instead of being granted land to govern, away from him. After hearing that in the throne room, his brother and sister-in-law had come to believe that she was the only soul on earth who could save him.

  She couldn’t. Nobody could but the death of his enemy.

  He slowed down his steps and narrowed his eyes. Ah…the boy’s wicked thoughts had flowed into his mind alongside familiar tangy scents. For the rest of the occupants in the palace, this fresh blood would be well mixed with a thousand other similar scents. Orion was playing hide and seek when he was in the front hall, a rather ordinary way to have fun in which children should indulge, but he was no more.

  He redirected back to the eastern courtyard where he was having a grand performance with his… friends—which was a socially accepted word to describe the children who were around Orion’s age, who knew him and mingled with him. The more fitting word would be his victims.

  His laughter was audible halfway through the palace. Childlike and innocent as the maids called it. The king and the queen had considered themselves the luckiest beings on earth for conceiving him, the reasoning behind that belief he could little understand.

  “Uncle?” he greeted, uncertainly, at the sight of him, from his small throne. He frowned, worry streaked across his features but he did not look away. Even millennium-old vampires would have done otherwise.

  “I always thought he had weird eyes,” a certain someone had remarked about his own, very long ago.

  This occurrence was uncanny.

  He swept his coat back, putting his hands into the pants pockets, as he strolled down into the courtyard.

  The king. The peasants. The nobles. And the guards. The perfect miniature court consisting ten children was standing, sitting, and sprawling across the grass amidst flower beds. The glows of magic lamps and the moonlight flickered across his round features. The guards were punishing the peasants and the nobles were clapping alongside the king. The punished were bruised, more than bruised, they were bleeding under their tiny blouses and shirts, covered in tears, but silent per the king’s order. Vampires and humans.

  The clamoring little crowd halted, shrinking away.

  “I could have sworn your mother and father taught you to be… kind.” The word sounded unnatural coming out of his own mouth, but he was his uncle after all.

  “How would you know? You were always up there,” the child muttered. It was flat tone, full of confidence for…

  An eight-years-old, wasn't he? Or Nine? Frequently, he would lose track of time, and this nephew he would only remember on rare occasions. Like this one.

  “Good question, isn’t it? How would I know?”

  He scrutinized the human children's wounds, from standing where he was. Orion had purposefully selected them to be criminals, the ones to be punished. He had known humans were fragile.

  “I’m almost impressed, Orion.” He took a step forward. “You have a good sense of timing.”

  “We were just playing.”

  He began a staring contest with the little cruel king. Orion looked down, grudgingly.

  Sentinels were not guardians. Though they had seen the event unfolding, they would not be bothered with children.

  “Get up.” He uttered.

  “Why?”

  He crossed the distance between him and the toy throne and his nephew jumped up, his fingers fidgeting. The lamps swayed with the wind.

  “This is not good.” He took his seat which was way too small. He had to settle at the edge. Still, he crossed his legs, for performance. “I didn’t mean your throne, of course.”

  He rarely ever joked and this was a wasted effort since he didn’t receive a smile or an expression. Just an assessment. He was nothing like his father. When his father was around his age, he had done no such things as assessing people, particularly the ones he was intimidated by, or so he assumed. He had not been around Magnus when he was eight or nine. He was somewhere else, very occupied.

  Theon waved at the criminals to get up. “Go stand over there. Yes, at the side.” He returned his gaze to the king, addressing his earlier remark. “I meant you being the crown prince, and how you’re having fun.”

  Again, he received no response.

  “This is wrong, don’t you think? Hurting your peers?” he drawled, to intimidate him. “You made them throw stones at them. Beat them with branches.”

  Orion was quick to protest. Or to lie. “They…they liked it! They are not my peers!”

  He paused to think. This was getting complicated.

  “It seems fun, to be fair,” he smiled. The rest of the children recoiled, except his nephew. “What if I joined? I’ll be the king this time.”

  “You can’t be the king! I’m the crown prince. You—” he swallowed. “You’re just a prince. Father and mother don’t even like you.”