Page 9 of House of Darkness (The Fallen Star #1)

ESTRELLA

Gilded light filtered through white arched windows and soft sage curtains, revealing rolling hills beyond. Nestled in a massive four-poster bed, I was enveloped by an array of soft green pillows and blankets. The sensation was so luxurious that I almost wished to remain there forever.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you failed.” Matei’s harsh grin emerged from the shadows.

I leapt from the bed as if it had burned me. Being caught sleeping in could be disastrous. I needed to be presentable at all times, which meant rising early. Clad in the same gown from the previous night and with makeup caked onto my face, I needed to bathe before anyone came for me.

The bathing chambers boasted a pristine white tub set into the floor.

With a nozzle and actual plumbing, it was both elegant and modern.

As I turned the nozzle cautiously, steam billowed, and hot water streamed over my hand.

The luxury of a hot bath was something I had never experienced at the academy, and I was excited to try it.

Stripping away my clothes, I lowered myself into the scalding water, hoping its warmth would soothe the chill in my heart.

I scrubbed my skin with a bar of soap until it turned red, then dunked my head beneath the surface.

A small, desperate voice urged me to stay submerged, but I forced it away, lathering my hair with a creamy solution until bubbles formed.

There was still hope, just like my sister said.

The heat relaxed my muscles, easing some of my discomfort.

Once the water began to cool, I emerged, wrapping myself in a plush white towel before heading to the dresser in my room.

The sight that greeted me was breathtaking.

Rows of exquisite dresses, unlike any I had ever seen, were displayed with delicate artistry.

Skirts and bodices crafted from breathable cotton and lace were arranged in an array of colors.

A voice within me stirred at the sight, admiring the beauty for its own sake.

I selected a light yellow gown, carefully working it over my head and fastening the silver buttons up the bodice. The gown’s silhouette swept gracefully to the floor, fitting snugly yet comfortably. The color matched the midday sun’s glow.

Yet the beauty of the gown was starkly contrasted by the bruise on my cheek and the abrasions on my wrists. I had hoped the yellow would bring out the blue in my eyes, but against its vibrant hue, they appeared a hollow gray.

I approached the windows, appreciating the view of rolling hills and lush greenery, an improvement over the dreary gray of the academy.

Leaning against the window, I savored the quiet solitude and warmth.

Living here couldn’t be too bad, with everything so wonderfully bright—if only I could keep the tsar’s favor.

A sudden knock at the door startled me. I glanced at my reflection, adjusting my gown and regretting not attending to my hair and face. I quickly brushed through my hair before hurrying to the door.

On the other side stood a short, curvy vampiress.

She was stunning, with caramel-colored skin and long black locks cascading to her plush hips.

Her body was adorned in a simple smocked dress that hinted at her role as a servant, though I wasn’t sure.

“Good morning, ma’am,” I greeted with a deep curtsy.

Her lips curved into a warm smile. “It’s been a while since I’ve been called that. My name is Isabella, but you can call me Bells, dear.”

“Estrella.”

“I know,” she winked. “I thought I’d escort you to breakfast. It’s easy to get lost here.”

I followed her down the hall, hands clasped behind me. The white marble floors shimmered beneath the light streaming through the arched windows. We descended a grand double staircase to the entry, where the Koraki House crest loomed. The silver raven watched over us, a reminder of who now owned me.

Isabella led me into an opulent dining room, its glass wall looking out onto the lush front gardens. The sight was mesmerizing—fields of jade dotted with vibrant flowers. Captivated by the garden’s beauty, I moved to the window.

Bella joined me. “Beautiful, isn’t it? Roman built it with his mother when he was a boy.”

“Does the tsar require all his servants to call him by his first name?” I inquired, noting her familiarity with him.

Isabella laughed, a bright and hearty sound.

“No—I mean, yes, he does ask the employees to call him Roman. But I’m not a servant, dear.

Though I sometimes feel like one with how hard I work!

” She turned to me, her expression bright and inviting.

“I’m the general of the interior, managing the Crown.

I’ve been doing that since my acolyte days. ”

A part of me felt guilty for assuming her position. It was a horrible offense to assume such a low ranking of a general of the Crown. But something else she said quickly caught my attention. “You were an acolyte?”

She nodded. “For Leonidas. Strange how things change, isn’t it?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Isabella’s gaze lingered on my face, and I felt a twinge of embarrassment at having called her “ma’am” out of habit. She brushed her hand lightly over my cheek. “I remember feeling like everything I did was scrutinized. I know you might not believe me, but that isn’t the case here.”

I lowered my head. She was right; I didn’t believe her. “Thank you, Bells. I do feel comfortable here with your hospitality.”

She clicked her tongue but didn’t press further. “Let’s eat, dear. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

The dining room featured a massive oak table, adorned with a blue runner and silver filigree. Two places were set—one with an ornate tea set and the other a generous spread of food. The aroma of fresh bread, garlic, and butter filled the air.

At the academy, our diet was strictly controlled, so I had never been offered such an array of food.

The table was laden with warm rolls, sliced cheeses, fruits, cured meats, and a jar of spread that looked suspiciously like zacusc?, one of my favorites.

I sampled the food, savoring the zing of pepper and eggplant on the warm bread, careful to observe the proper dining etiquette under the general’s gaze.

Isabella poured wyne into her cup, her refined mannerisms sharply contrasting with the vile meal. The sight made me uneasy, but I did my best to ignore it. I kept my voice low when I asked, “May I ask where His Majesty is?”

“He had to leave on important business. It’ll be a few days before he returns.”

My mind raced with the realization that the tsar’s absence presented a rare opportunity to escape.

If I acted quickly, I would only have to avoid Isabella and the servants.

But once Roman returned, it would be nearly impossible to evade his omnipresent power.

I considered fleeing to Aetror, where Matei would be unable to find me.

The shadow of his threats could only stretch so far.

After breakfast, Isabella was summoned away, leaving me with a chance to explore the castle.

The freedom of being alone was surprisingly liberating.

To plan my escape, I needed to familiarize myself with the castle’s layout, so I set out to explore.

There had to be a servant door that would grant my escape.

The castle was vast and confusing, filled with multiple entertainment areas, a ballroom, and a library, each bathed in the sun’s golden rays and adorned in shades of blue and silver.

I tried to keep track of the servants I encountered—at least ten vampires who paid me little attention as they went about their duties.

After what felt like an eternity, I discovered an unassuming door leading to the castle grounds.

Early spring sunlight bathed the front gardens, the cheerful chirp of birds and the soft gurgle of water filling the air.

In the center of the circular cobblestone drive stood a magnificent fountain made of a weeping stone angel.

His wings were outspread, and tears poured down his chiseled face into the pool below, teeming with brightly colored fish.

Neatly trimmed hedges formed a barrier to the lush vegetation beyond.

I stepped outside. Though I should have been searching for an escape route, my feet led me to the garden.

I paused before a bush bursting with bright pink flowers, their sweet aroma filling the air.

Cupping one of the blossoms, I inhaled its perfume.

A thorn pricked my thumb, and I stared numbly at it.

What kind of cruelty had the flower endured to need such defenses?

A tear slipped down my cheek, which I wiped away.

How pathetic I was—a cracked doll crying over flowers.

There was no time for that; I needed to plan my next move.

I tore myself away from the bush and surveyed the drive.

It ended at a river, its swirling waters bubbling beneath a cobblestone bridge that marked my only escape.

That was where I needed to go. I traced the path in my mind, convinced that as long as I made it over that bridge, I would be free.

I meant to return inside to prepare for my escape, but something stopped me.

I sat at the fountain, shaded by the imposing silhouette of the angel.

My hand trailed in the water, the fish nibbling at my fingers.

The tranquil atmosphere was a balm to my battered soul.

I clung to the hope that one day I could escape this place and enjoy such beauty freely, for without it, I had nothing.