Birds were whistling merrily outside Eirewen's window to greet the rising sun. Hedge sparrows and bullfinches hopped from branch to branch. The soft melody wrapped around Eirwen's ears and plunged a dagger into them.

The princess lifted her head and shielded her eyes from the sun's savage rays. Everything hurt, from the top of her head to the tip of her smallest toe. Her pulse throbbed in time with the spikes of pain behind her eyes. This was the worst she'd felt after one of Heldie's desserts. Next year she'd say no, this was the last straw.

Eirwen pushed herself out of bed and her knees buckled. The cold stone floor bruised her knees. A whimper forced its way past her lips. Everything would settle soon enough. At least the horrid thirst hadn't returned this time. The thirst for something warm to soother her dry throat. At best the dryness was a tickle along the back of her throat. It was nothing more than what she felt when she had a cold.

At worst her throat became an icy tundra. No amount of hot tea cut through it. Eirwen could only wait for it to pass on its own. The rest of the side effects she could ignore until some fresh air had soothed them away.

A sharper whistle followed by a five note melody cut through the obnoxious birds. She smiled and raced to the side of the window. Her body was hidden from view when she peeked out from behind the heavy green velvet curtains. She could just make out Ezekial leaning over the high wall of the courtyard. Eirwen whistled back the melody, exchanging the final low note for a high one.

In a few rushed moments, she pinned back her thick black curls and threw her nightgown aside for one of the dresses Heldie had given her from her mother's room. The deep blue dress with the panel of white ruffles down the front of the skirts had the best fit of the lot. The long layered sleeves were the only things she'd considered altering. She could do that another day.

Eirwen paused at the door to the courtyard. He'd only ever seen her in her everyday work clothes. Was this too much? Would he think she was trying to look better than she was? She took a step back, biting at the tip of her pinky.

A gloved hand pressed against her upper back. "Go on, princess. Don't leave him waiting too long," Ryker urged her. The huntsman had his crossbow slung across his back and a sack of fresh catches tied to his hip. The smell of blood made her nose crinkle.

"Are you sure it's really alright for me to be speaking to him? What if he's working with the people who killed my parents?" she asked nervously. True, Ezekiel claimed to be from a kingdom where he was the expendable son. Following that line of logic he would be the last person to help his kingdom by conquering another, even as easy as it would be to take their castle. A darker thought plagued her. A thought of Ezekiel claiming Heldie's throne for himself.

"You would both have been children when that happened. It's best not to judge people before we truly know them," he advised. Ryker pressed against her back again and tugged the door open at the same time.

Eirwen had no choice but to stumble out into the sunlit courtyard. She squinted and raised a hand to shield her eyes. "Ezekial?" she called. Maybe she'd taken too long and had left. It was impossible to see with the light reflecting off everything in sight.

"There you are," Ezekiel shouted from her left.

The sudden shout startled her half to death. Her heart leapt into her throat like a bird taken down by a snake. It refused to settle. With the unshakeable fright came the unquenchable thirst. Just as the other effects were the worst they'd been, the thirst almost brought her to her knees. She felt arms wrap around her to support her weight.

The world went red.

"...wen! Eirwen! Stop!" Heldie was screaming in her ear.

Queen and princess were entangled on the floor, struggling for control of the other. Heldie had one arm locked around Eriwen's waist while the other was around her neck. Her grip trembled with the effort to hold the thrashing young woman in place.

Bit by bit Eirwen's senses returned and she went still. Her body sagged against Heldie's as the exhaustion overtook her. Across from them she could just barely make out Ryker dragging an unconscious Ezekial away. She reached out for them and her head lolled back.

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Eriwen awoke back in her bed, still in her gown with a heavy blanket wrapped around her. She was alone, a cup of cold tea on her bedside table. The drapes had been closed tightly but she had no trouble seeing around the darkened room. It almost seemed clearer than before. Small noises from around beyond the door tickled the edge of her hearing. Among them was a steady heartbeat that drove her to her feet.

The hall was as empty as the room. Her bare feet made no noise on the thin rugs running down the center of the halls. The heartbeat grew louder the closer she got to her mother's rooms. It was a thunderous roar by the time she opened the door. Her hands were pressed to her ears to muffle it and then, it was gone. A soft whisper took its place to call her name. Her dress left a trail in the thick dust.

Along the wall she found a loose stone that pulled out easily when she tugged it. The cavity behind it was pitch black, but the whisper urged her on. "Well... how bad could it be?" she wondered aloud. Her birthday was already as bad as it could get at this point. Eirwen reached in with her hand. Her fingertips brushed against rough wood and she pulled a box free.

There was no lock, no latch. The top slid off without any effort. Inside rested a leatherbound book tied shut with a thin piece of green ribbon. It looked untouched by time. The pages inside were just as well preserved and she marveled at the neat flowing writing that filled them. She gasped when she saw her name among the words.

Faint footsteps grew closer to the door she'd closed behind her. Eirwen held her breath, clutching the box and journal to her chest. She looked around for a way out but fear kept her rooted in place. Just when she'd decided to dive under the bed the footsteps faded away from the door. She replaced the stone and ran on tiptoes to the door and didn't stop until she was back in her own room.

The tea still sat untouched by the open window. It was only a matter of time before Heldie came to check on her. She would demand answers from her this time.

The voice whispered her name again, drawing her eyes down to the journal. It was such a soft call, warm and comforting. It dug into her mind and she shut her eyes against the blinding pain. When it faded the voice was still there and her grip on the diary was painfully tight. It felt warm under her hands.

"Mother," Eirwen whispered. She opened the journal to the first pages and traced her finger over the looping letters on the page. The pain came again, more manageable this time. In her mind's eye she saw a woman standing over her with a wide smile and her dark hair pinned back. Firelight reflected in her red eyes.

Eirwen settled onto her bed and flipped through the pages to find the passage she'd first seen her name. It was dated only a few months before her birth in the dead of winter.

I have never put much stock in the words of seers and the like. Their fickle moods are as unreliable as the winter storms that plagued us last week. How can one know the future with any certainty? Perhaps it is time I reevaluate my prejudices.

The sun broke through today and I felt well enough to step out into the gardens. Clarence is too busy these days with visiting dignitaries to tend to my every need. He worries about me, and the baby. Our dear Eirwen. I am certain you will be a girl and he does not argue.

My roses are barren now but I thought I spied a final blossom resting at the center of the bush. The thorns pricked my finger and five drops of blood fell across the fresh snow. A strong kick nearly doubled me over. There is no doubt in my mind this was a sign. Tomorrow I will go into town to see the seer.

Reading the words was the closest Eirwen had felt to her mother since... she couldn't remember when. Heldie never spoke of her and her father was gone too soon to share much of anything. He only ever told Eirwen that her mother was a princess from a far away land and she'd saved him. A pretty fairytale for a sad daughter.

Eirwen flipped to the next page, pausing to listen for approaching footsteps. All was still.

The blood, one drop for every year.

The woman saw more than I wanted to know and I could not leave without knowing everything. I cannot forgo the information which could spell life of death for my sweet girl.

My girl, my Eirwen, she saw you, happy and just as beautiful as I'd always dreamed. A queen with your own power. I am so proud of you. My heart breaks to know I won't be there with you. I can only hope my future is not set in stone and I will find a way.

The blood on the snow was a warning. One drop for every year of your life that I will see. It isn't enough time to tell you everything I must. I can only hope the words here in this diary will be of some comfort and guidance. Your father will try to help but these are things he has little knowledge of.

My dear Eirwen, I hope this finds you before it is too late. It lies with me to tell you of our true legacy, that of the nachtengel. It is a curse and a gift passed down in our family, my family. We are dark beings who bring death and pain to those who cross us. I came to this land for a cure and lost my chance to save your father. I don't regret my choice and now I only hope I can help you do what I couldn't. If I can help you resist this call for blood then everything will be worth it.

You are all that matters now.

Eirwen let the journal fall from her hands into her lap. Apparently in her final years, her mother had lost her mind. Further in the entry it went on to mention their unnatural abilities and need for blood. The unbelievable feats of strength and almost magical abilities just weren't possible.

And yet there had been that moment in the courtyard.

Ezekiel's blood screamed for her.

She thumbed through the next few pages in the diary. Fear grew in her heart the further she read. One day it would be not only impossible to ignore the bloodcall but nearly impossible to stop her. Who might she hurt then?

There was a mention of a cure in the journal. Her mother had done half the work already in getting here. It couldn't be far now. If she could find it she could be there and back before anyone really missed her.

Eirwen threw together a small pack with enough food for a few days and one of her mother's dresses. Runaway or not it wouldn't do to be fully without a proper dress. The journal joined the dress with a spare pair of socks. She shifted the loose floorboards to pull out a hidden pair of trousers and pulled those on with a thick shirt, leaving the ruffled dress draped across the bed.

Both of the old banners were carefully folded in the hidden compartment. They felt sturdy when Eirwen pulled them taut. There was no time to hunt down a rope when Ryker and Heldie might be roaming the corridors. These would have to make do. She fashioned a rope out of the banners and her old dresses.

The ground looked so much further away now that she had one foot planted on the narrow ledge that ran along the outer wall. Unforgiving stone awaited her should she fall. Eirwen focused on slow even breaths as she tied her makeshift rope to the heavy iron bars of the window. It had kept out the wind, rain, and snow all this time, surely it would hold her for the short trip down.

Eirwen hefted her bag onto her back and swung her second leg out of the room. The ledge was sturdy under her feet, a narrow safety net. Inch by inch she moved her foot back until one leg was fully suspended in the air. "Just go, go," she told herself.

One more breath and she slid down the rope.

The second banner which she'd used for the end of the rope came loose when she was still a few feet from the ground. Her knees buckled on impact and she rolled until her back hit the raised platform where the well rested. Seconds of silence passed.

Eirwen allowed herself a brief celebration as she checked herself for scrapes. She tucked the banner into her bag, threatening the integrity of the stitches. Leaving it behind would have been a sure sign something was amiss. She needed every advantage to remain undetected.

Ahead was the wall Ezekiel had thrown himself over so many times. He was a scrawny boy who was shorter than she was. If he could manage then so could she.

As Eirwen bounced on her toes in preparation, something on the ground caught her eye. A crushed bouquet had been left by the well. Primroses and violets with battered petals were tied together with a green ribbon.

Beyond the smell of the flowers she detected a familiar smell of woodsmoke and pine needles. Guilt wormed its way into her stomach. In all her rush to leave she hadn't spared a second of thought for the boy who'd been so kind to her. His last memories of her would be of some monster desperate for his blood.

Maybe it was better this way, if he never saw her again. She couldn't hurt him that way.

When Eirwen swung her legs over the wall it was with a single primrose tucked behind her ear.