The vase slipped from my fingers, shattering against the floor in a spray of glass and petals. I stared down at the mess, the last flowers drooping pathetically at my feet as a frown tugged at my lips.

Brilliant, I thought. How was I supposed to prepare for a grand ball when even the simplest task ended in disaster? At this rate, I'd probably trip over my shoes, spill wine on royalty, and accidentally start a small fire. Perhaps I should bring a broom to the ball and save everyone some time.

While bending down to retrieve the fallen flowers, I somehow missed a shard and sliced my hand. Pain jolted me back to reality, and I hissed as crimson beads blossomed on my palm. Perfect. Just perfect. Frustration bubbled up inside me—how had I let this happen? The ball was tomorrow, and every minute felt like a ticking time bomb.

The sound must have alerted someone, because a maid hurried over, blue eyes wide as she took in the scene. "Oh, goodness, dear! What happened?"

"It's nothing," I muttered, trying to downplay the sting in my palm. "Just a minor accident."

The maid frowned, clearly unconvinced. "A minor accident that looks rather serious, if you ask me. Let me get you something to stop the bleeding."

As she rummaged through her apron, I couldn't help but feel embarrassed. "Truly, I'm fine. I really should get back to work, but thanks for the help."

"Definitely not," she insisted, her voice firm yet reassuring. "You shouldn't worry about a thing. I'll take care of this—you've already done more than enough."

I opened my mouth to protest, but she raised a hand to silence me, her face set with determination as she began bandaging my arm. I hesitated, glancing at the mess of flowers and glass strewn across the floor. Perhaps a break would be wise.

"Well, if you're certain," I said, tension easing from my shoulders as I took a step back.

The maid nodded, a small smile breaking through her concern, and I watched her move with quiet efficiency. She was an older woman, her eyes framed by gentle wrinkles that spoke of years spent caring for others.

Her name escaped me, likely because she was new; Percival always hired extra help for the ball each year. Not wanting to interrupt her diligent work, I made a mental note to ask her name later in the day.

The room buzzed with pack members bustling about, each one focused on the preparations for tonight's annual ball. The rich aroma of delicious food wafted from the kitchen, mingling with the warm glow of the candlelit chandeliers that sparkled overhead. I couldn't help but admire the elegance of it all—the dark floral arrangements lending a sophisticated air, while garlands of flowers trailed down the stair rails.

As I glided toward the magnificent piano in the corner, I caught sight of Locke, our musician, skillfully playing a melody that spilled through the air like a siren's song. The enchanting sound curled around me, drawing me in. I couldn't help but sway to the rhythm, completely taken by the sound.

Music had always reminded me of my childhood—those nights when I played the piano as others twirled gracefully, their laughter ringing like a joyful echo. The thoughts filled me with a deep sense of longing. It was a cherished memory, one that brought a saddened smile to my lips as I watched Locke's fingers glide effortlessly over the keys.

"Is something troubling you?" a familiar voice broke through the trance. I turned to see Percival leaning against the wall, concern etched across his features.

Percival was the only one who knew the truth of my upbringing, the only one who saw beyond the façade. He had been my mentor since childhood, stepping in to fill the void left by the father I had never had. He guided me through a world I often felt ill-equipped to navigate because of my human nature.

"Everything is perfectly fine," I replied, forcing a smile that felt more like a mask. "I was just lost in thought—reminiscing about the past."

Percival studied me for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. "Nostalgia can be a heavy burden," he said, his voice steady but gentle. "It's easy to get lost in what once was."

I nodded. "It's just... tonight feels different," I admitted, my gaze drifting back to Locke. His fingers continued dancing over the keys, each strike a flurry of sound, ringing out sharper than the last.

"Perhaps that's because my grandson arrives tomorrow."

At the mention of his grandson, my curiosity piqued. "Is he really coming?" I asked, trying to mask my eagerness with an air of nonchalance that felt about as convincing as a cat pretending it didn't just knock something off the table.

Percival nodded a proud glint in his eyes. "He is. It's been far too long since he's been home."

"He rarely attends the balls. Why now?" I pressed.

Percival's expression grew serious. "He's coming back to discuss the darkening and his engagement to Lorelai," he revealed.

"Lorelai?" I echoed, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

I imagined her marrying Carlisle. A sickening dread curled in my chest. What hope did our kingdom have if she held sway over him? I feared not only for Carlisle's safety but for the future of us all. How long would it take for Lorelai to set her sights on power and destroy our delicate alliances?

Percival's gaze flickered, as though he could see all the turmoil inside me. "Worry will only darken the path ahead," he said, his voice even but heavy. "Carlisle is sharp. We must let Lorelai reveal who she truly is and trust that she'll prove herself worthy of the crown."

I nodded, but his words hung hollow between us. Even Percival, I suspected, knew that shadows had a way of creeping in—especially through doors left open.

Percival's gaze dropped to my bandaged hand. His brow knitted together. "Best if you head up and rest for now," he said. "With your hand, we can't have you overdoing it."

I paused, glancing from my hand to his face, confused. "It's barely a scratch. I've had worse in training, and you never seemed worried before."

"Humor me just this once," he replied, his lips curling into an almost smile before he turned away as if to avoid any more questions.

There was something about his briskness that held an unusual excitement, and as I made my way up the stairs, I felt my curiosity grow. The man was always up to something.

Seeing that spark in Percival was...a relief, a glimpse of the man he used to be. Lately, he looked like he was carrying a mountain on his back. Worry had carved deep lines into his face. His eyes, once sharp and lively, dimmed, dulled by something that looked uncomfortably close to fear. It left an ache in my chest just to look at him.

The Darkening continued creeping into our lands and with Carlisle returning, the council's scrutiny had likely tightened, each decree like a twist of the knife.

Percival, elder and alpha of the Shadow Pack, embodied the burdens we all bore. 

His kind was capable of shifting into shadow wolves, which is extremely rare. Even still, for all his power, Percival had always stood for peace among the packs, his influence extending well beyond our borders. 

Perhaps that was the crux of the issue. Other elders regarded him with wary eyes. In Percival, they saw a threat, a man whose quiet authority could shake their very world to its knees if he so desired it.

Dropping onto my bed after a long day of work, I let out a deep sigh of relief. Happiness washed over me as I closed my eyes, feeling the stress slowly dissipate from my body.

Laying here, I cast a glance around my carefully decorated room, and a wave of contentment washed over me. Percival had crafted the plans when he took me in, his attention to detail obvious in every corner.

The dark gray walls and floor-to-ceiling windows framed the elegant columns that divided the room, creating a sense of home. The soft, plush brown carpet beneath my feet added a touch of luxury, while the fairy lights strung across the ceiling cast a warm, inviting glow, perfectly complementing the myriad of candles I had scattered about.

Closing my eyes, I envisioned tomorrow: his mesmerizing gray eyes locking onto mine, a warm smile dancing on his full lips as he greeted me. How the rich, velvety timbre of his voice would envelop the room, drawing me in as we shared stories and laughed, reconnecting over all that had unfolded since our last parting.

I shot up, my heart racing. How could I allow my thoughts to wander into such dangerous territory? 

It felt reckless to even entertain the idea of longing for him. Shaking my head in disbelief, I rushed to the bathroom, eager to shake off the confusion swirling in my mind.

The elegance of the mirror above the sink greeted me as I approached, but the reflection staring back sent a jolt of panic through my chest. My hair was a wild mess, a stark contrast to the poised version of myself I wished to be. How could I even entertain thoughts of Carlisle when I looked like this?

"Get it together," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn't afford the luxury of love—not now...not ever. There were too many risks and far too much at stake.

Determined to shake off the tension, I turned toward my closet, hoping to find pajamas. I opened the door, expecting to see my usual collection of soft fabrics, but a beautiful dress caught my eye instead.

Grabbing the gown, I watched as the gold embroidery shimmered in the light, catching like stars against a midnight sky. It was the fabric that made you forget about life's little troubles. 

The flowing silk felt luxuriously soft against my fingertips, a reminder of my one true weakness: comfortable clothes that made me look far fancier than I felt in decades. The dress was a perfect combination of blues, whites, and gold—my favorite colors, especially gold. There was something thrilling about draping myself in colors that said I could probably fight a war, but why ruin the gown?

As I held it against my body, I could already envision how it would drape and dance with my movements. If I didn't look good in this, it was my fault.

This had to be a gift from Percival; I was certain of it. No wonder he had been so adamant about me coming up to my room. Knowing him, he was probably practically bursting at the seams—subtlety wasn't exactly his strong suit, especially when it came to gifts. The man had the patience of a hyperactive pixie, and keeping surprises under wraps was about as likely as him passing up dessert.

Percival understood that without his guidance, I would likely arrive in a plain gown or something entirely unsuitable for the occasion. Personally, I saw no reason for the extra fuss. Being presented as human in a society surrounded by immortal beings often made me an outcast.

Given my low status here, ​​I figured my appearance was the least of anyone's concerns.

But Percival was adamant that I present myself with grace. According to him, it wasn't just about appearances—it reflected the worth he believed I deserved. And, he had added with a sigh, of my impeccable taste.

Stepping onto the gray carpet, I filled the bathtub. The steam curled around me and I placed my towels on the edge, taking a deep breath and undressing. The cool air brushed against my skin, while the soothing scent of lilies wafted through the room, easing the tension in my shoulders. Carefully, I stepped into the inviting warm water.

Leaning back, I closed my eyes. The gentle candlelight danced across my eyelids, while soft music filled the air. Slowly drifting to sleep, my thoughts turned to tomorrow. I wished fervently for everything to go as planned and for the ball to be a night of joy. But beneath the surface, a nagging uneasiness lingered. Tomorrow would not merely be a celebration; it would serve as a trial, revealing the extent of the darkness that threatened to consume us all.

Oh, and Carlisle will be there...yep, no pressure at all.