Sophia’s entrance was precisely as grand as Rey had anticipated.

Though he was little more than an accessory, the attention was still overwhelming, and it made his skin itch. As unpleasant as he was, Rey was relieved to spot Aden waiting in the wings, his thick auburn hair hanging loose over an ivory-clad shoulder.

“Lady Sophia Antoinette Loewe,” someone announced. Their deep voice was full and reverent. The guests, a sea of opulent fabric and shadowed eyes, turned abruptly in their direction. “And her escort, Lord Reynold Anthony, concubine to his Highness King Leopold Fisk III.”

A gentle murmur filled the ballroom. Rey minded his steps. He didn’t want to embarrass his only acquaintance, after all.

They were immediately surrounded by the same ladies from that first meeting. Lady Valerie, who’d been in yellow that day, had traded her soft color pallet for a darker red. She immediately clasped Sophia's hand with urgency. “Lady Sophia! You are unerringly beautiful, as always. Happy naming day!”

Something told Rey he should kiss Sophia’s remaining hand, so he did, bowing his head. “Happy naming day, my Lady. Thank you for inviting me to escort you on such an important day.”

The other ladies cooed. “I’m so envious, Sophia,” Eleanor told her, with a flutter of her thick lashes. “I can scarcely believe the King would allow his concubine to escort you on your naming day. He must adore your family to even consider doing so. This should put a stop to those nasty rumors.”

“Oh, those rumors were baseless from the start,” Lady Cassidy said with a grimace. Her dark walnut hair, piled atop her head in a thick knot, had been wrapped with a net of sparkling emeralds. “No one truly believes the Laurents would replace the Loewes. A human as the right hand to the King? Absurd.”

Sophia met Rey’s eyes in silent apology. “Aden was never worried, nor was I. But it certainly does not hurt our reputation to be escorted by a man of such status as Lord Reynold.”

Reynold. He’d had to give his full name, eventually, and ‘Reynold’ was the less egregiously modern take of what it had once been. Anthony was a common surname in the empire, at least according the King’s library, and would make it more difficult for anyone to trace his human lineage. Considering his complete lack of history here, Rey hoped to keep those prior connections vague.

He still had no idea exactly where he — this body, at least — had come from. Gentle probing of his guards had only revealed that he’d appeared one night, haggard and silent, feverish and refusing to respond. The guards, convinced that he had died in the night, were startled to discover him alive and alert the following morning. That was when he’d been brought to the King for appraisal.

His memories here seemed sharper by the day, vivid and real. Meanwhile, his time on Earth grew muddier and muddier. He could no longer recall his the names of his school friends, only the bright joy of their company and the white cut of their smiles.

“Are you ready, my Lady?” Lady Valerie asked, twisting her hands in the fabric of her dress. “It’s nearly time now.”

“Of course,” Sophia confirmed, a determined expression on her petite face. “I have been for years.”

Rey had been sure to read up on the tradition before coming to the party. The naming day ceremony, a standard for all vampires on their 25th birthday, was when members of the title class discovered their secondary affinity as a vampire.

There was little written about the ceremony, so Rey knew only the basics, but from what he could tell it involved Lady Sophia being “read” by one of the community elders and a storied artifact. She was to be accompanied by her closest relative, and could not drink for two weeks prior to the ceremony. 

Rey knew little of the Loewe family dynamic, but he hadn’t spotted the older generation since his reincarnation, so he suspected Aden would join her.

They spent another hour speaking with the attendees before Aden finally approached, a wrinkle in his brow, one gloved hand on Sophia’s bicep. 

“It’s time, sister,” Aden said quietly. 

The ballroom fell into a hushed silence, and Rey felt a cold dread creep up his spine as Sophia was lead toward a dais, something in his blood singing.