The midnight ceremony was a masterpiece of vampire aristocratic excess. The grand ballroom of Duke Maximilian's estate had been transformed into a cathedral of shadow and candlelight, with blood-red roses everywhere and moonbeams streaming through strategically pced skylights. The full moon's glow cast an ethereal light across the assembled vampire nobility, who stood in perfect formation according to rank and bloodline.

  It was, by all accounts, the social event of the decade, which was precisely why Duke Maximilian looked like he might prefer a stake to the heart.

  "Ceremonial incense, moon-blessed candles, and is that... yes, they've installed a genuine blood fountain," Max whispered to Winters, who stood stoically at his side. "None of that was in the protocol guide I memorized."

  "Archduke Lucius sent his personal event coordinator, Your Grace," Winters murmured. "Apparently, your union merits particur... grandeur."

  Max tugged nervously at his ceremonial robes, a masterpiece of midnight blue silk embroidered with silver thread that traced arcane symbols of vampire nobility. "I've memorized the traditional vows. Sixteen different versions. Practiced them alphabetically and in chronological order of historical usage."

  "Most thorough, Your Grace."

  "I've categorized every possible procedural variation based on historical precedent and statistical probability."

  "Your dedication is admirable."

  "I've analyzed the ceremonial blood-sharing ritual down to precise milliliter measurements to prevent spilge."

  "Very pragmatic."

  "So why does it feel like I'm going to catastrophically malfunction at any moment?"

  Winters adjusted Max's silver ceremonial colr. "Perhaps because you've approached your own wedding as an academic project rather than a personal milestone, Your Grace?"

  Before Max could respond, the ancient pipe organ began to py, and the assembled nobles turned expectantly toward the grand entrance. Max felt himself being gently but firmly guided to his position beneath an eborate arch of silver bones and blood-red crystals.

  And then Lord Elias appeared.

  Max had reviewed the dossier on his political consort-to-be multiple times. The file included a formal portrait and extensive notes on Elias's position in Archduke Orlov's court. None of it had prepared him for the reality.

  Lord Elias glided into the ballroom wearing ceremonial robes of deepest burgundy that seemed to flow like liquid around his slender frame. His dark hair had subtle blue highlights that caught the moonlight, and those remarkable violet eyes surveyed the room with a curious mixture of calcution and amusement. The traditional silver circlet of a noble consort rested on his brow, somehow looking like it had been designed specifically for him rather than being a ceremonial relic used for decades.

  Every vampire in attendance straightened imperceptibly as he passed, responding to an authority that had nothing to do with rank and everything to do with presence.

  By the time Elias reached the ceremonial arch, Max had forgotten every one of his sixteen versions of vows.

  "Your Grace," Elias greeted him with a formal bow that was somehow both perfectly correct and subtly personalized. "The moon blesses our union tonight." His voice carried the cultured accent of Orlov's court, though Max noticed a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as if he wasn't entirely sure that was the correct greeting.

  "I... yes. Moon. Blessing. Quite." Max managed, already deviating catastrophically from his script.

  The High Officiant—an ancient vampire who had performed noble ceremonies since the outbreak—stepped forward and began the ritual. Max focused desperately on the proceedings, trying to recim his mental catalog of appropriate responses.

  "We gather under the full moon's witness," the Officiant intoned, "to bind these two nobles in consort union, strengthening the ties between our great houses and factions."

  Max nodded vigorously at what seemed an appropriate moment.

  "The blood oath will now be taken," the Officiant continued, gesturing to the ceremonial table where twin silver daggers rested on bck velvet. "Each consort shall make their cut with the bde of their respective faction."

  Max reached for a dagger, grabbing the ornate one with rubies rather than the simpler silver one with sapphires that represented Lucius's faction. Elias's eyes widened in confusion, his hand hovering uncertainly over the remaining dagger.

  "Is this the part where we...?" Elias whispered, a crack in his court fa?ade revealing someone who'd never actually been taught the ceremony, just how to stand decoratively during it.

  The Officiant cleared his throat pointedly.

  "Yes, that's your dagger," Max whispered back urgently. "I took the wrong one."

  "Oh! Then we should—wait, does it matter?" Elias asked, his beautiful face showing genuine confusion as he picked up the remaining dagger. "I wasn't taught this part. I was just supposed to look pretty while someone else handled the complicated bits."

  A ripple of murmurs spread through the assembly. The Officiant's face was a study in controlled horror.

  "We're supposed to use our faction's bdes," Max whispered, "but I took yours by mistake."

  "Oh! Well then..." Elias lifted his voice to address the gathering with a dazzling smile. "We've decided to exchange daggers as a symbol of our factions' unity!"

  His decration was delivered with such beautiful confidence that several nobles nodded approvingly, despite the clear confusion in his eyes. The Officiant, unsure how to proceed with this "tradition," reluctantly continued.

  "Present your wrists for the blood oath," he commanded.

  Max had practiced this part extensively with various substitutes—red wine, tomato juice, and finally actual blood from willing donors. He had perfected the precise angle of incision to prevent excessive bleeding while fulfilling ceremonial requirements.

  What he hadn't accounted for was how his hand would shake when faced with his consort's expectant gaze.

  The ceremonial cut he made on his own wrist went deeper than intended, sending a stream of blood onto the pristine ceremonial cloth between them. He then turned to take Elias's wrist, trying to compensate by using a lighter touch—which resulted in barely breaking the skin.

  "Is it supposed to—should there be more blood?" Elias whispered, looking panicked. "I've only ever stood beside the altar holding decorative objects during these ceremonies."

  "A bit more pressure perhaps," Max muttered, adjusting his grip to complete the cut properly. Their wrists were then pressed together, blood mingling in the ancient vampire tradition.

  "Recite your vows of union," the Officiant instructed.

  Max's mind went completely bnk. The sixteen versions of vows he'd memorized had vanished, repced by a strange buzzing sound. The silence stretched as the assembled nobles began to exchange gnces.

  Elias stared at him with growing arm, then leaned in to whisper, "I don't know the vows either! I thought you would say them and I'd just repeat whatever you said!"

  The silence grew agonizing until Elias, clearly panicking behind his perfect smile, loudly decred, "In Orlov's court, we practice the tradition of silent vows! The... um... Fourth Night Protocol? Or possibly the Third? It states that blood speaks louder than words!"

  He raised their joined wrists slightly. "Our mingled blood expresses what mere nguage cannot. That is the... traditional approach of my faction."

  Several older vampires looked confused, while others nodded appreciatively at what they assumed was an Orlov tradition they hadn't heard of—no one wanting to admit ignorance of aristocratic customs.

  The Officiant, clearly deciding to move things along, nodded. "The blood speaks the truth of your union. Now, the consorts will share from the ceremonial goblet."

  A single crystal goblet filled with a special vintage of blood-wine was presented. According to tradition, each consort would take a sip before passing it to the other—a simple enough procedure that even Max's frazzled nerves should have been able to handle.

  Should have.

  As he reached for the goblet, his ceremonial sleeve caught on one of the eborate silver candleholders, tipping it precariously. In his haste to prevent a fire, he knocked the goblet with his elbow, sending blood-wine arcing through the air in a spectacur crimson spray that somehow managed to miss Elias entirely while spttering across the Officiant's ancient ceremonial robes.

  The collective gasp from the assembled nobility seemed to suck all the air from the room.

  "Is this part of the ceremony?" Elias whispered desperately to Max, looking genuinely confused.

  Before Max could respond, Elias raised his voice with confident authority he clearly didn't feel. "In Orlov's court, we have a saying—blood-wine on the officiant brings a hundred years of prosperity to the union! Is that not also practiced in Lucius's territories?"

  He delivered this completely fabricated tradition with such earnest confusion and perfect beauty that several nobles immediately nodded, while others looked embarrassed not to have known this "common knowledge."

  "How... fascinating," the Officiant managed, clearly torn between outrage and uncertainty about contradicting a consort from Orlov's mysterious court. "I... have not encountered this particur tradition before."

  "Really?" Elias asked with genuine surprise. "But it's so... traditional! Isn't it?" He looked around desperately, his perfect court mask slipping to reveal someone who had absolutely no idea what he was talking about but was committed to the performance.

  The Officiant, either convinced by Elias's beautiful conviction or simply wanting to salvage his dignity, cleared his throat. "The ceremony is... concluded. I pronounce this consort union valid under vampire w and custom. May your houses be strengthened through this bond."

  The ceremony concluded with a speed that suggested everyone involved was eager to proceed to the reception, where hopefully fewer irrepceable items would be damaged.

  As they processed out of the ballroom, Elias leaned toward Max, his confident smile belied by the panic in his eyes. "Did I do that right? I've never actually participated in a ceremony before—I usually just stand there looking decorative while the important vampires handle the talking parts."

  "You... improvised remarkably well," Max replied, maintaining a strained smile for the benefit of watching nobles.

  "Oh good," Elias sighed with relief. "I had no idea what I was doing. They never taught me the actual protocols, just how to look pretty during ceremonies."

  Max stared at him, momentarily speechless. "But you seemed so confident."

  "That's the only thing they did teach me," Elias replied with a surprising touch of bitterness beneath his perfect smile. "How to look confident while having absolutely no idea what's happening."

  Before Max could respond, they were swept into the receiving line, where noble after noble approached to offer congratutions and, more importantly, assess the political implications of this unexpected union between factions.

  Throughout the reception, Max watched in bewilderment as Elias attempted to navigate vampire social waters. Despite his apparent confidence, Max noticed Elias frequently hesitating before greetings, clearly trying to remember which title went with which rank. He compensated beautifully with charm when he couldn't recall protocols, deflecting with smiles and graceful gestures where proper etiquette failed him.

  When Max accidentally addressed Countess Veronique as "Your Excellency" (a title reserved for Archdukes) instead of "Your Eminence," Elias jumped in—not to correct, but to join the error with enthusiastic conviction.

  "Yes, Your Excellency," Elias echoed with perfect court smile pstered on his face, "the Duke and I were just discussing how traditional titles fail to capture true significance. Is it the Fourth Night Protocol or the Third that allows for title elevation during unions? I was only taught to stand in the correct position during ceremonies, not the actual rules."

  Max watched in horror as the Countess's face froze, but somehow Elias's beautiful confusion and earnest admission of ignorance charmed her into a reluctant smile rather than offense.

  By the time the final nobles departed near dawn, Max was exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with physical exertion and everything to do with social anxiety. The moment the doors closed behind the st guest, he mumbled something about "reviewing the ceremonial documentation" and fled to his library, where he barricaded himself among his beloved books and artifacts.

  It was there, surrounded by the comforting smell of ancient paper and preserved technology, that Elias found him an hour ter.

  "Your Grace?" Elias called softly from the doorway. He had changed from his ceremonial robes into simpler but still elegant evening attire. "The staff was concerned when you disappeared."

  "I needed to... catalog my thoughts," Max replied, not looking up from the ancient tome he wasn't actually reading.

  Elias stepped into the library, his eyes widening as he took in the sheer volume of books and preserved artifacts. "I've never seen so many books in one pce," he admitted, his formal court accent slipping slightly to reveal genuine wonder. "They actually let you read all these?"

  Max looked up, surprised by the question. "Let me? They're my books. I collected them."

  "Oh." Elias ran his fingers lightly over a nearby shelf. "In Orlov's court, books are decorative status symbols. Most nobles own them but don't read them. Actually reading too much is considered... unbanced."

  "Unbanced," Max repeated ftly. "And what do they consider a wedding ceremony where the groom assaults the officiant with a beverage?"

  To his surprise, Elias ughed—a genuine sound entirely different from the polite court chuckle he'd employed during the reception. "Memorable," he answered, perching gracefully on a nearby chair. "Vampire court ceremonies are usually dreadful affairs where everyone pretends to know exactly what's happening while most of us just stand where we're told and try not to make eye contact with the important nobles."

  He leaned forward slightly, those unusual violet eyes meeting Max's directly. "May I tell you a secret, Your Grace? I never thought I'd say this to a vampire of your standing, but you're surprisingly... genuine."

  "Genuine," Max echoed, certain he was being mocked.

  "Indeed. Do you know what my role has been at Orlov's court for decades? Decorative background. Stand beautifully at events, ugh at the right moments, never express an actual opinion. I wasn't even taught proper protocols—just how to stand and look pretty while the important decisions happened around me."

  Elias gestured around at the library. "And now I'm consort to a Duke who appears to have actual interests beyond blood-drinking and political maneuvering. It's unexpected."

  Max adjusted his gsses, studying Elias with new curiosity. "I was under the impression you were sent here primarily for political advantage."

  A fsh of something—surprise, perhaps—crossed Elias's face before his court mask returned. "How forthright," he remarked. "Most nobles would pretend this was a love match ordained by the stars."

  "I find accuracy preferable to romantic fiction," Max replied.

  Elias's mouth curved into a smile that seemed more genuine than any he'd dispyed during the ceremony. "As I said. Refreshing." He stood gracefully. "I understand you value your privacy, Your Grace. The staff has prepared my quarters in the east wing, as you requested. I won't intrude on your library sanctuary."

  He moved toward the door, then paused. "Though if you wouldn't mind... perhaps sometime you might show me some of these books? I've always wanted to read actual history rather than the court-approved versions."

  Max found himself nodding before he'd fully processed the request. "I... yes. That would be acceptable."

  "Excellent. Good night then, Your Grace." Elias offered a bow that was technically perfect yet somehow personally warm. "Or rather, good day, as dawn approaches."

  After Elias had gone, Max sat motionless, surrounded by his books and artifacts. He'd spent weeks dreading this political union, anticipating a consort who would be either a spiteful political spy or a vapid court decoration.

  Lord Elias was clearly neither—or perhaps skillfully pretending to be neither, which was almost more intriguing.

  "Curious," Max murmured to himself, automatically reaching to pet Ptolemy, who had materialized on his desk. "Most curious indeed."

  The cat purred, batting at the ceremonial wedding contract still bearing drops of their mingled blood.