Rey had learned quite a bit since he first arrived in this strange, eerie place just a month ago.

First and foremost, much like Earth, there was a powerful hierarchy here. Humans and vampires here lived in tentative and hostile peace. But they hadn’t always. Who was in charge cycled repeatedly throughout history, with bloody wars and violent coups usually preceding the switch. The “out” group was typically isolated and ostracized to the barren northern lands.

That’s where Rey was now.

Ristalia — the great, barren tundra. The furthest reaches of the continent. Just outside of the castle walls, where Rey had only ventured a handful of times, almost all life was clustered around the small city of Tien. It was here where Rey had taken advantage of his new status among these vampires to rustle up a haircut, a small selection of cakes that reminded him of home, and a new cloak to keep out the sharp bite of the Ristalian winter.

He’d been regarded with no small amount of awe, keeping cloistered between a team of the same burly guards who’d once been his captors.

Or the captors of whoever this body had belonged to, once.

He tried not to think about it too hard.

“My Lord,” one of those same guards whispered to him now, just as he’d begun loading the wagon for another morning journey to Tien. “His Highness will be joining you. We will need to switch wagons.”

Rey blinked, tilting his head and glancing over his shoulder. The bright, cloudless winter sky made it difficult to see much past the marble staircase, fresh snow bouncing the bright light into his eyes. It was exhilarating, still — to not worry about going out in the cold. “His Highness is?”

After their first feeding, Rey had seen even less of the King — but he’d heard whispers. Whispers of the King's exceptional vitality and renewed commitment to the efforts on the border with their southern neighbors. Whispers of how special his new concubine must be.

A cacophony of footsteps suddenly reached the top of the stairs, a flurry of activity in Rey’s otherwise peaceful morning.

Rey tucked away his scowl.

The King was flanked by a flock of advisors, each more ostentatiously aristocratic than the next. Velvet cloaks, satin gloves and vibrant jewels.

“You must focus on diplomatic efforts,” one advisor was insisting, a riot of auburn hair plaited over one shoulder. He had slim hands and the kind of walk that had to be taught. “Even in your renewed state, the Family would be difficult to overcome.”

“Don’t be so cautious,” another insisted. His shock of platinum hair was almost as bright as the snow. “If we don’t push back, they’ll just whittle down our forces and we’ll lose with a whimper. They don’t know you’ve recovered — it’s the best time to strike.”

The trio paused as they descended the steps, their guards coming to a clattering stop behind them. Three sets of bejeweled eyes, unblinking and assessing, suddenly focused on Rey.

He froze.

“Ah, good morning, your Highness,” Rey said, pulling his cloak tighter. 

The auburn-haired aide recovered himself first. “Good morning, you must be his Highness’ companion.” Silver licked at the edges of the aide's irises, his pupils blown wide. “Rey, correct?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, I don’t —” 

“Ah! Yes, I am Aden. I act as His Majesty’s aide on diplomatic affairs.” Aden flashed a gentle, well-practiced smile. “You know His Highness, of course. The one to his right is Calvin. He assists with military affairs."

“Interesting,” Calvin said, nose wrinkled. His eyes narrowed. “You are…fragrant.”

“Calvin,” the King said lowly.

“Oh, don’t overreact, Leo,” Calvin said with a wry smile. Rey curled his cloaked even tighter, feeling more like prey than he had since he’d first arrived. 

“I’m not asking you to share him."