She accidentally signed to the vampire king’s mute son at a royal banquet. The entire hall went silent. What she didn’t realize, she was the first person outside his tutor who’d ever spoken his language, and the lonely king watching from his throne would move heaven and earth to keep her there. The crystal goblets caught the candlelight like frozen stars.
Lena’s hands trembled as she balanced the silver tray, weaving between lords in velvet cloaks and ladies dripping with jewels. Three months working in the palace, and she still wasn’t used to the weight of vampire eyes following her every move. More wine for Lord Cashes, hissed the headservant, shoving her toward the high table. Lena’s heart hammered.
The high table where the king Saturday she had seen King Aldrich only from a distance. a figure carved from marble and shadows with eyes that could freeze blood in your veins. Tonight he wore black armor even at dinner as if expecting war to break out between the soup and dessert courses. But it wasn’t the king that made her pause. It was the small boy sitting beside him.

Prince Allaric couldn’t have been older than seven. While nobles laughed and clinkedked glasses around him, the child sat perfectly still, staring at his untouched plate. His dark hair fell across pale cheeks, and his small hands rested in his lap like wounded birds. No one spoke to him. No one even looked at him. Lena approached the table, her footsteps silent on the marble floor.
She reached for the king’s empty goblet, her movements careful and rehearsed. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t. A servant rushing past knocked her elbow. Time slowed to a crawl. The tray tilted. Three crystal goblets slid toward the edge, spinning through the air in a cascade of silver and glass.
They crashed onto the table directly in front of Prince Allaric. Red wine exploding across the white tablecloth like fresh blood. The entire hall went silent. 500 conversations died mid-sentence. Forks froze halfway to mouths.
Even the musicians in the corner stopped playing, the final note hanging in the air like a held breath. Lena’s knees hit the floor. Forgive me, your majesty, I but her eyes found the prince first. Wine had splattered across his sleeve. A shard of crystal rested inches from his hand. Yet the boy didn’t flinch, didn’t cry out. He simply stared at the mess with wide dark eyes, his small body rigid with fear he couldn’t voice. Without thinking, Lena’s hands moved.
Are you okay? She signed it quickly, instinctively, the same way she’d signed to her little brother back in the village before the fever took him. Her fingers formed the familiar shapes, the gesture for you, the concerned expression, the questioning tilt. Prince Allaric’s head snapped up. His eyes met hers. Truly met them for the first time.
They were the color of midnight, huge in his small face, and suddenly filled with something that looked like lightning trapped in a bottle. The prince’s hands flew up from his lap. “I’m fine,” he signed back, his movements sharp with excitement. “You can sign. You know how.” His little hands trembled as they formed the words, moving so fast they blurred together.
A smile broke across his face. The kind of smile that hadn’t seen sunlight in too long. “No one hears signs except teacher,” Aller continued, leaning forward in his chair. “Are you new? What’s your name? Do you know the sign for dragon?” “I learned it yesterday.” But silence. The king’s voice cut through the hall like a blade through silk.

Every head turned, every spine straightened. Lena felt the word wrap around her throat like a noose. King Aldrich rose from his throne, unfolding to his full height. He was tall, impossibly tall, with shoulders that blocked out the candle light behind him. His crown sat heavy on his brow, dark metal studded with blood red rubies. He wasn’t looking at Lena. He was looking at his son.
Prince Allaric’s hands froze midsign. The smile slid from his face, replaced by that terrible stillness Lena had seen before. The boy’s eyes dropped his lap and his shoulders curled inward, making him even smaller than he already was. The king’s gaze shifted to Lena. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move.
His eyes were the color of winter storms and just as cold. “You,” he said quietly. “Stunt.” Lena’s legs barely supported her weight as she rose around the hall. Nobles whispered behind jeweled hands. She caught fragments of their words. Sign to the prince. Never seen him respond to anyone. Just a human servant.
How dare she? King Aldrich descended from the platform, each step deliberate. The crowd parted before him like water before a ship’s bow. He stopped three paces from Lena, close enough that she could see the silver threading through his dark hair, the faint scars on his knuckles that spoke of old battles. Where did you learn that? His voice was quiet, but it carried through the silent hall like thunder.
And my village, your majesty Lena’s voice cracked. My brother was born deaf. I learned to speak with my hands so he wouldn’t be alone. The king’s expression didn’t change. Your brother? Where is he now? Dead sire. 5 years ago. Something flickered across the king’s face, too quick to name.
He glanced back at Prince Alaric, who was watching them with desperate, pleading eyes. The nobles waited for the king’s judgment. A few looked eager, hoping for entertainment. Others seemed uncomfortable, perhaps remembering their own humanity buried deep beneath centuries of immortal pride. King Aldrich turned to his steward, a thin vampire with silver spectacles who stood near the throne. Find this woman’s name and post.

Report to my study within the hour. He returned to his seat without another word. The musicians began playing again, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence. Conversations resumed. Servants rushed forward to clean the spilled wine and broken crystal. But Prince Allaric’s eyes never left Lena as she was ushered away.
His small hands moved one final time, hidden beneath the table, where only she could see. Thank you. Lena spent the next hour in the servants quarters, waiting for the executioner’s summons. The other servants gave her pitying looks and wide birth as if misfortune might be contagious. “You’re the girl who spilled wine on the prince?” an older woman asked, shaking her head. Best make peace with whatever god you pray to, child.
But when the steward finally arrived, he didn’t bring guards. He brought instructions. You are to report to the east-wing kitchen at dawn, he said, adjusting his spectacles. You’ll be assigned the morning shift. Your duties will include preparing and delivering the breakfast service to the prince’s courtyard. Lena stared at him. I I’m not being dismissed. dismissed. The steward’s lips twitched. “No, girl.
You’re being promoted.” He left before she could ask what that meant. That night, Lena lay awake in her narrow bed, replaying the moment over and over. The way the prince’s entire face had transformed when she’d signed to him. The way his hands had moved so fast, so eager, so desperately happy, and the way the king had looked at his son afterward, when he thought no one was watching, not with anger, with something that looked almost like longing.
The king’s private study smelled of old leather and older secrets. Shadows gathered in the corners despite the fire burning in the hearth. As if even light knew better than to push too far into Aldrich’s domain. He stood by the window, watching the moon paint silver streaks across the palace gardens.
Behind him, his steward waited with the patience of someone who’d served for three centuries. “The human waitress,” Aldrich said without turning. “What do you know of her?” The steward consulted his leatherbound ledger. Lena Thorne, your majesty, 22 years of age, arrived from the eastern villages 3 months ago seeking work.
Her references indicate reliability and the sign language Aldrich’s fingers pressed against the cold glass. How does a village girl learn such things? She had a younger brother, sire, born without speech or hearing. She learned to communicate with him before he succumbed to illness. The steward paused. The village priest taught them both. Apparently, it’s a language used in certain human monasteries for silent prayer. Aldrich closed his eyes.
He had hired seven tutors for all Alaric over the past 2 years. Private instructors who came at dawn and left at dusk, teaching his son to communicate in the language of hands and expressions. But they were paid professionals doing a job. Tonight, he had watched his son smile for the first time in months.
Over spilled wine and broken crystal, a human girl had given all Alaric something no amount of gold could buy. Someone who spoke to him simply because they could. The boy was animated, Aldrich said quietly. I’ve never seen him move his hands so quickly. Prince Alic seemed quite taken with her. Yes. Taken.
Such a simple word for the desperate hope that had blazed in his son’s eyes. Aldrich had seen that look only once before. The day Alarik’s mother died, when the boy had screamed silent screams that no one could hear, his small hands forming words his father couldn’t understand. That was the day Aldrich had stopped trying to reach him.
Not because he didn’t love the boy, but because every attempt felt like watching his son drown while standing on the shore, unable to swim. “Assign her to the day shift,” Aldrich said. Near the prince’s wing, the steward’s quill scratched against parchment. Very good, sire. Shall I inform her of the reason for the transfer? No. Aldrich turned from the window.
His reflection in the glass looked older than it had that morning. Let her think it’s simply a new assignment. Nothing more. As you wish. The steward bowed and moved toward the door, then hesitated. Sire, if I may speak freely. Aldrich nodded once. Prince Alaric has been alone for a very long time. Perhaps this is not such a terrible accident after all.
After the steward left, Aldrich sat at his desk and pulled out a drawer he rarely opened. Inside lay a painted miniature, his late wife Elena, laughing with infant allaric in her arms. She’d been human once before choosing immortality to stay by his side. She would have known what to do.
She would have learned the hand language in a week, would have filled their son’s silent world with conversation and laughter. But Elena was gone, and Aldrich had an entire kingdom to rule, wars to plan, treaties to negotiate, a hundred crises that demanded his attention every day. Except none of them mattered as much as the small boy who sat alone at banquetss, invisible in plain sight.
Aldrich’s hand moved experimentally, trying to remember the signs he’d glimpsed at dinner. His fingers felt clumsy, awkward. How did the girl make it look so effortless? He pulled his hand back, frustrated. Tomorrow, he would deal with this tomorrow. Meanwhile, in the servant’s quarters, Lena stared at her new assignment paper in disbelief.
The prince’s wing? Her roommate, Mari, gaped at the notice. Lena, that’s where they send the most trusted servants. People who’ve worked here for years. I must have read it wrong. Lena held the paper up to the candle light, but the words didn’t change. Report to the east wing kitchen at dawn. Deliver breakfast service to Prince Allaric’s private courtyard. Daily assignment until further notice.
You spoke to the prince in that hand language of yours, didn’t you? Mari’s eyes were wide. Everyone’s talking about it. They say he actually smiled. He’s just a child, Lena said softly. A lonely one. He’s the heir to the vampire throne. Mari grabbed Lena’s shoulders. Do you understand what this means? The king doesn’t do anything by accident.
He’s putting you near his son deliberately. A chill ran down Lena’s spine. Why would he do that? Maybe he wants to see if it was a fluke. Or maybe Mari’s voice dropped to a whisper. Maybe he’s testing you, seeing if you’re a threat. I’m not a threat to anyone, but Lena’s hands trembled as she folded the assignment paper. I just The prince looked so scared when the glass broke.
I wanted to make sure he was all right. Well, tomorrow you’ll get your chance to make sure again. Mari squeezed her arm. Just be careful, Lena. The royal family isn’t like us. They don’t think like us. And that little boy, he’s not just a child. He’s property of the crown. That night, Lena dreamed of small hands forming desperate words in the dark and a king made of winter watching from a distance, unable or unwilling to reach.
Dawn broke cold and golden over the palace. Lena’s hands shook as she balanced the breakfast tray, not from its weight, but from the knowledge of where she was taking it. The prince’s courtyard lay at the end of a marble corridor lined with portraits of stern-faced vampire ancestors.
Their painted eyes seemed to follow her, judging, a human servant walking where few were permitted. She pushed open the iron gate with her hip. The courtyard took her breath away. Night blooming flowers covered every surface. Moon vines and shadow roses that should have closed with the sunrise but somehow remained open here. their petals luminescent in the early light. A small fountain burbled in the center, its water crystal clear, stone benches curved beneath a willow tree that wept silver leaves.
And there, sitting cross-legged on the grass, was Prince Allaric. He hadn’t noticed her yet. His attention was fixed on something in his hands, a small bird’s nest cradled carefully in his palms. He was examining it with a serious concentration only children could muster, his dark hair falling into his eyes. Lena set the tray on a nearby table. The soft clink of porcelain made Allaric’s head snap up.
His eyes widened. Then his whole face transformed. That same brilliant smile from last night breaking across his features like sunrise. “You came,” he signed, scrambling to his feet. The bird’s nest wobbled dangerously. I thought maybe I dreamed you. Nobody told me you’d be here.
Are you my new breakfast person? What’s your name? His hands moved so fast, Lena. Almost couldn’t keep up. She laughed, setting down the teapot before signing back. Slow down, little prince. Yes, I’m real. My name is Lena. Lena? He fingerpelled it carefully, learning. That’s a nice name.
Can you stay while I eat, please? Teacher doesn’t come until after lunch, and there’s nobody to talk to. And he stopped abruptly, his smile faltering, his hands lowered, and that shuddered look returned to his face. The same one from the banquet when his father had spoken. “I’m sorry,” he signed small and quick. “You probably have other work. I shouldn’t keep you.” Lena’s heart cracked. She knelt on the grass beside him, ignoring the deuce.
soaking into her dress. I have nowhere more important to be than right here. Allaric stared at her. Then slowly, the smile crept back. Really? Really? For the next hour, Lena learned more about Prince Allaric than she’d imagined possible. He showed her his collection of interesting stones arranged by color along the garden wall.
He explained through elaborate signs and animated expressions how he was studying the birds that visited the fountain each morning. A family of sparrows had built a nest in the willow tree and he’d found this fallen one beneath it. Do you think they’re sad? He signed holding up the empty nest that they lost their home. Maybe Lena signed back. But birds are clever. They’ll build a new one.
I would build them one, but my hands are too big. He looked at his palms sadly. Well, too big for bird nests. Too small for everything else. What do you mean? Allaric hesitated. His hands moved slowly now. Carefully. Father has big hands. Warrior hands. He can hold swords and sign treaties and lift heavy things.
My hands can only do this. He wiggled his fingers talking that nobody else understands. I understand. Lena signed. You’re the only one except teacher. All Alaric sat beside her on the grass. Do you know what’s funny? In the whole palace with hundreds of people, only two can hear me. And one of them is paid to.
The casual way he said it, as if he’d accepted his isolation as simple fact, made Lena want to gather him up like the fallen nest and promise to keep him safe. “Well, now you have me,” she signed. “And I’m not going anywhere.” Alaric’s eyes grew suspiciously bright. He nodded quickly, then stood and tugged her hand. “Come on, I want to show you my favorite spot.
” He led her to the far corner of the courtyard, where the morning light hit just right, making the dew covered grass sparkle like diamonds. He sat down and patted the ground beside him. “This is where I come when I’m sad,” he signed. “It’s pretty. Pretty things help.” They sat together in comfortable silence, watching the sun climb higher.
A sparrow landed on the fountain’s edge, cocked its head at them, then flew away. “Lena” Allaric signed after a while. “Can I ask you something? Anything? Why did you help me last night? You could have gotten in trouble. You still might.” Lena thought about her answer carefully because you looked scared and nobody should be scared and alone at the same time.
Alaric absorbed this. Then he signed with the blunt honesty of children. I’m scared and alone a lot. Before Lena could respond, footsteps echoed from the corridor. Both of them turned. A figure stood in the archway, silhouetted against the morning sun. King Aldrich.
He wasn’t wearing his armor today, just dark clothes that made him look less like a warrior and more like a man. His eyes moved from Lena to his son, then to their hands, frozen mid-con conversation. How long had he been watching? Allaric scrambled to his feet, his earlier joy evaporating. He bowed his head, small and formal and perfectly obedient. The king took one step forward, stopped.
His jaw worked as if he wanted to say something, but didn’t know how. Finally, he turned and walked away without a word. Alaric sat back down slowly. He didn’t sign anything else that morning, just held the bird’s nest in his lap and stared at where his father had been standing. Rain hammered against the palace windows like a thousand impatient fingers.
Lena had been delivering breakfast to Allaric’s courtyard for 6 days now, and each morning the prince was already waiting for her, usually with something new to show her. A butterfly wing, a perfectly round pebble. Once a drawing heed made of the two of them sitting by the fountain. But today, the courtyard was empty. Lena sat down the tray, worry gnawing at her stomach.
Had something happened? Had the king changed his mind about her assignment? A small hand tugged at her sleeve. She spun around to find Allaric standing behind her, practically vibrating with excitement. His hair was damp from the rain, his clothes spotted with water. “Come with me,” he signed urgently. “I want to show you something secret.” “Prince all Alaric, you’re soaked. You should.” “Please,” his eyes were huge and pleading.
“It’s important, and it’s inside. How could anyone say no to that face? All Alaric grabbed her hand and pulled her through a side door she’d never noticed before, down a narrow servant’s passage, then up a spiral staircase that seemed to climb forever. Finally, they emerged into a long hallway lined with tall windows. At the end stood an enormous oak door carved with intricate symbols.
The royal library. We can’t lean a sign quickly. Servants aren’t allowed. But all Alaric was already pushing the door open. The library was magnificent. Shelves stretched up three stories connected by spiral staircases and narrow bridges. Rainray light filtered through stained glass windows, painting the floors in muted rainbows.
The smell of old paper and leather hung thick in the air. Isn’t it wonderful? All Alaric signed, his face glowing. Nobody comes here anymore. Father’s too busy. The nobles think reading is boring. It’s just me and the books. He pulled her toward a low shelf in the corner where oversized picture books sat gathering dust.
He selected one with a faded cover showing a castle and a dragon. These are vampire fairy tales, he signed. Teacher reads them to me, but I like them better when I tell them myself. He opened the book and Lena saw that someone, probably a tutor from years past, had added small sign language diagrams in the margins, showing how to sign each important word.
Allaric’s hands began to move, telling the story. His signing was beautiful, expressive, and fluid, painting pictures in the air. He signed about a brave knight and a lonely dragon who couldn’t breathe fire. about how everyone feared the dragon because of what he was supposed to be, not who he actually was. Lena found herself drawn into the tale.
When Allaric signed the part where the dragon finally roared, not with fire, but with wind that carried flower petals, she acted it out, sweeping her arms wide and making him laugh silently, his small shoulders shaking with mirth. “Your turn,” he signed, pushing another book into her hands. This one was about a princess who lived in a tower.
Lena signed the story, exaggerating her expressions, making All Alaric’s eyes grow wide at the scary parts and light up during the happy ones. When she signed about the princess dancing alone in her tower, she stood and twirled, nearly knocking over a stack of books.
All Alaric clapped his hands, not making sound, but the gesture of applause anyway. He jumped up to join her, and they spun together between the bookshelves. The forbidden library transforming into a stage for stories only they could tell. They didn’t hear the door open. Allaric. The king’s voice cut through their joy like a blade through silk. Lena’s heart stopped.
She dropped into a curtsy so fast her knees hit the floor. Pain shooting up her legs. Beside her, all Alaric froze midspin, his arms falling to his sides. King Aldrich stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his dark cloak. His expression was unreadable, carved from stone, revealing nothing. “Forgive me, your majesty,” Lena gasped. “I didn’t mean to. The prince wanted to show me. I should have refused.” “Shunt.
” She obeyed, legs trembling. “This was it. She’d be dismissed, possibly worse.” But the king wasn’t looking at her. He was watching his son. All Alaric stood perfectly still, had bowed, waiting for judgment. All the light had gone out of him, replaced by that terrible resigned stillness. The king stepped into the library.
His boots echoed on the marble floor. He walked past Lena, past the scattered books, until he stood directly before Allaric. Then he did something unexpected. he knelt, brought himself down to his son’s level, his cloak pooling around him like spilled ink. All Alaric’s head came up slowly, confusion written across his small face.
The king’s hand moved, clumsy, uncertain, forming a single sign. One Lena had taught him during their morning conversations, though Allaric couldn’t know that. Happy. It was rough, the fingers not quite right, but the meaning was clear. You look happy. The king tried to sign, though his hands stumbled over the words. Allaric’s eyes went wide. His mouth opened in a silent gasp.
The king looked at Lena then, and she saw something in his expression she hadn’t expected. Not anger, not suspicion, desperation. “Stay,” he said quietly. “Continue.” He moved to a chair near the window, far enough to give them space, close enough to watch. He didn’t pick up a book or pretend to work.
He simply sat and observed as Allaric, after a long moment of shock, slowly picked up the story book again. “Should we?” Allaric signed hesitantly to Lena. She glanced at the king. He nodded once. So they continued. All Alaric signed his stories and Lena acted them out, and occasionally, very occasionally, Allaric would look over at his father as if checking to make sure this wasn’t a dream.
The king watched his son speak with his hands, and though he couldn’t understand most of it, he didn’t look away. Not once. The whispers started small, like poison seeping through cracks. Did you hear? The human girl spends hours alone with the prince in the library of all places. Completely inappropriate. The king allows it.
Can you imagine? Lena heard the rumors in the servants hall, in the corridors, even in the kitchen where she collected all Alaric’s breakfast each morning. The other servants no longer met her eyes. Some looked at her with envy, others with pity. Mari pulled her aside one evening, her face pale. They’re saying you’ve bewitched the prince. That you’re using him to get close to power. That’s ridiculous. He’s 7 years old.
Lena, listen to me. Mari gripped her shoulders. Lord Cases spoke to the council yesterday. He said, “It’s unseammly for a human servant to have such influence over the air. He called you a security risk. A security risk for teaching a lonely child to smile.” But the noble’s opinions didn’t truly frighten Lena.
What frightened her was the look on Allaric’s face when she was 10 minutes late to breakfast one morning, the panic in his eyes, the way his hands had trembled when he signed. I thought they made you leave. She was becoming important to him, too important, and that made her vulnerable. The summons came on a gray afternoon. Lord Chancellor Valyrias requests your presence in the East Solar.
A guard informed her, his expression carefully neutral. Lena’s stomach dropped. The Lord Chancellor was the king’s chief adviser, second only to Aldrich himself in authority. His word could end her career or her life. The east solar was a cold room despite the fire burning in its hearth. Lord Valyrias stood by the window, his back to her. He was an ancient vampire, thin as a blade with silver hair pulled back in a severe knot. Miss Thorne, he didn’t turn around. Do you know why I’ve called you here? No, my lord. I think you do.
Now, he turned and his eyes were like chips of ice. You’ve been seen spending considerable time with Prince Alaric. Time that exceeds your duties as a breakfast server. The prince enjoys having someone to talk to, my lord. I only, the prince, Valyrias interrupted, is the heir to the vampire throne. His companions should be carefully selected from noble families, not plucked from the servant class on a whim.
Lena’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. With respect, my lord, those noble families don’t speak his language. A temporary limitation. The boy will outgrow this affliction. He’ll learn to communicate properly like any other royal. He already communicates properly, just not in the way you understand. The words escaped before Lena could stop them.
Valyrias’s eyes narrowed dangerously. You forget yourself, girl, his voice dropped to a whisper. Let me be clear. There are members of this court who believe Prince Allaric is unsuitable as heir. They see his silence as weakness, a liability. Lena’s blood ran cold. They want to replace him. They want a strong successor, one who can address the council, negotiate with foreign dignitaries, command respect.
Valyrias moved closer, circling her like a predator. Your presence complicates matters. You make the prince comfortable in his isolation. You enable his refusal to adapt. I help him feel less alone. You help him remain helpless. Valyrias stopped in front of her. The kindest thing you could do for Prince Alaric is to distance yourself. Let him struggle.
Let him learn to survive in a world that won’t sign back to him. That’s cruel. That’s reality. Valyrias’s expression softens slightly. Or perhaps it was a trick of the light. I’m not a monster, Miss Thorne. I’ve served this kingdom for four centuries. I’ve seen weak rulers destroy nations.
Prince Allaric needs to be strong, not coddled. He walked to his desk and pulled out a sealed letter. This is a transfer order. You’ll be reassigned to the South Wing, effective immediately. Better wages, lighter duties. You’ll never have to see the prince again. Lena stared at the letter as if it were a snake.
And if I refuse, then you’ll be dismissed entirely. No references. No final wages. Valyrias set the letter down between them. Take the night to consider. But understand, this is not a negotiation. It’s mercy. Lena went to the courtyard the next morning, her heart heavy as stone. She’d spent all night wrestling with the decision.
Take the transfer and save her livelihood, or refuse and lose everything. But when she saw all Alaric waiting by the fountain, her choice became clear. He knew immediately something was wrong. “What happened?” he signed, rushing over. “You look sad.” “I’m fine, Shalit. You’re lying.” His small face was fierce. “Your hands are doing the thing they do when you’re upset. All stiff.
Did I do something wrong?” All Alaric signs grew smaller, more hesitant. I can be quieter during our lessons. I won’t ask you to stay so long. Please don’t be angry with me. Oh, sweetheart. No. Lena knelt and took his hands and hers. You did nothing wrong. Nothing.
Then what? How could she explain that his world was full of people who saw him as a problem to be solved? That they wanted her gone because she made him happy. Some people think I spend too much time with you. She signed carefully. Alaric’s face crumpled. “Father, no other people. People who don’t understand.” “They never understand,” he signed.
And the resignation in those small hands broke her heart. “It’s okay. You can go. Everyone leaves eventually.” The casual acceptance in his signs, as if abandonment was just another fact of life, like rain or sunrise, made Lena’s decision for her. I’m not going anywhere, she signed fiercely. Do you hear me? I’m staying. But you said, “I don’t care what they say. You’re my friend. Friends don’t leave.
” All Alaric stared at her. Then he threw his arms around her neck and held on tight, his small bodies shaking with silent sobs. Neither of them saw the figure watching from the balcony above, King Aldrich, who had heard every word of Valyrias’s warning, and now watched his son cling to the only person who’d chosen to stay.
The knock on Allaric’s chamber door came after midnight. The prince sat cross-legged on his bed, arranging his collection of stones by moonlight. He’d long since given up trying to sleep at normal hours. The silence of night felt less lonely than the silence of day.
When the door opened, Alaric looked up, expecting his night guard. Instead, his father stood in the doorway. King Aldrich seemed too large for the frame, his broad shoulders nearly touching both sides. He still wore his council clothes, though he’d removed his crown. Without it, he looked different, tired, almost human. All Alaric froze, a smooth riverstone clutched in his hand.
His father never came to his chambers. They saw each other at formal dinners, at council presentations where all Alaric sat silent and decorative, at occasions that required the heirs presence, but never here. Never in this private space that belonged only to Allaric. The king stepped inside and closed the door. Good evening, father.
All Alaric signed formally, setting down his stones and sliding off the bed to bow. Aldrich held up a hand. Wait. His throat worked as if the words were stuck there. Finally, may I sit? All Alaric nodded, confused. His father never asked permission for anything.
The king lowered himself into the chair by Allaric’s desk, a small chair meant for a child, making him look almost comical, like a bear trying to fit into a doll’s house. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and for a long moment simply looked at his son. Alaric shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. His hands moved nervously. Did I do something wrong? No. Aldrich’s voice was rough. No, you did nothing wrong.
Silence stretched between them. All Alaric’s fingers twitched, wanting to sign to fill the emptiness with words his father wouldn’t understand, but he kept his hands still, waiting. I’ve been thinking, Aldrich said finally, about your mother. Alaric’s eyes widened. They never spoke about her. Not since she died.
She would have known what to do, what to say. The king’s hands clenched into fists. She was good at talking, connecting. I’m good at war, at strategy, at breaking things. He looked at his scarred knuckles. But not this, not what. Allaric signed before he could stop himself. His father stared at the hand movements. And Allaric saw frustration flash across his face.
The same frustration Allaric felt every day trying to exist in a world that wouldn’t speak his language. That Aldrich said quietly. Not that. He stood abruptly began pacing. The small room made him seem like a caged animal. I’ve conquered kingdoms, negotiated peace treaties in five languages, commanded armies of thousands. But I can’t, he stopped, his back to Allaric.
I can’t talk to my own son. Allaric’s chest tightened. He never heard his father sound like this. Lost, vulnerable, almost desperate. The king turned to face him. You move your hands so fast. with Lena in the library in the courtyard. I watch you and it’s like you’re speaking in lightning and I he held up his own hands large and calloused. I understand nothing. I could teach you.
Allaric signed eagerly, hope blooming in his chest. It’s not hard, just shapes and but his father wasn’t looking at his hands. Couldn’t read the offer being made. All Alarik’s hands fell to his sides. Aldrich saw the movement, the disappointment. Something seemed to break in his expression.
He crossed the room in three strides and knelt before his son. The second time in two weeks he’d lowered himself to Allaric’s level. Show me, he said. One sign, just one for son. Allaric’s breath caught. Slowly, he raised his hand and demonstrated a simple gesture, fingers pointed at himself, then swept outward. Aldrich copied it, clumsy and uncertain.
His fingers didn’t quite match the shape. Alaric took his father’s hand, so much larger than his own, and gently adjusted the position. His father’s skin was warm, rougher than he’d expected. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d touched like this. Like this, he signed with his free hand. Like this. Aldrich repeated the gesture, and this time it was almost right. Allaric nodded enthusiastically.
Then he showed him another sign. Father. It was more complex. A hand to the forehead, then brought down to the chest. Protective. Strong. Aldrich practiced it three times before getting it right. When he finally did, he looked at Allaric with an expression the prince had never seen before. Pride, maybe, or relief.
Say something to me, all Alaric signed, his hands trembling with excitement. Please. His father’s jaw worked. He raised his hands, formed the signs slowly, deliberately. My son, two words, simple, imperfect, everything. Allaric’s eyes flooded with tears. He launched himself at his father, wrapping his small arms around the king’s neck.
Aldrich caught him, held him, one large hand cradling the back of his son’s head. They stayed like that for a long time in the moonlight chamber, neither of them signing or speaking, just holding on. When Aldrich finally pulled back, his eyes were suspiciously bright. He tried to sign again, struggled, then gave up, and simply spoke. I need help.
Will you teach me more? Will your friend? Will Lena teach me? All Alaric nodded so hard his whole body shook. Tomorrow then after council, Aldrich stood, smoothing his clothes back into order. At the door, he paused. His hands moved, uncertain but deliberate, forming the signs Allaric had just taught him. “Good night, my son.” All Alaric signed back, “Good night, father.
” After the king left, Allaric climbed back into bed and stared at the ceiling, his heart racing. For the first time in 5 years since his mother died and his world went silent, he let himself believe in something he’d thought lost forever. Hope. In his private study, King Aldrich sat in the darkness, practicing the signs over and over until his hands cramped. He had failed his son for too long.
But he wasn’t too late. Not yet. The spring procession was the kingdom’s oldest tradition, a celebration of renewal, when the royal family greeted their subjects from the grand balcony and accepted their blessings for the coming season. In 7 years, Prince Allaric had never participated. The boy will be a distraction.
Lord Valyrias had argued every year. Better to keep him inside until he’s older, more capable. But this year, when the council convened to discuss the ceremony, King Aldrich’s voice cut through the debate like a sword through silk. My son will stand beside me. The council chamber fell silent. Your majesty, Lord Cases ventured carefully.
With all due respect, the prince cannot address the people. It would be awkward for everyone involved. He will stand beside me, Aldrich repeated his tone, allowing no argument. and Miss Thorne will accompany us as his interpreter.” The murmurss rose like a swarm of angry bees. “A human servant on the royal balcony, interpreting for the air, unthinkable, unprecedented.” Aldrich let them protest. Then he stood, and the chamber quieted.
“My son is the heir to this throne. It’s time the kingdom saw him not as a silent shadow, but as their prince, his eyes swept the room, daring anyone to challenge him. This discussion is over. The morning of the procession, Lena’s hands shook so badly she could barely lace her dress, a new one, deep blue with silver threading, provided by the king’s steward.
Appropriate for the balcony, he’d said, as if it were perfectly normal for a servant to stand beside royalty. Mari helped pin Lena’s hair. You look terrified. I am terrified. Lena stared at her reflection. What if I make a mistake? What if I can’t translate fast enough? What if? What if you help a little boy be seen by his kingdom for the first time? Mari squeezed her shoulders. You’ve got this.
In his chambers, all Alaric was equally nervous. He stood before the mirror in his formal attire, a small version of his father’s ceremonial robes, black and silver, with the royal crest embroidered on the chest. He looked like a prince from a story book. But his hands wouldn’t stop trembling. His father entered without knocking, also dressed in full regalia, crown, cape, the ancient sword of the realm at his hip.
He looked every inch the Warrior King until he saw his son’s fear and immediately knelt. Scared, he signed. His signing had improved dramatically over the past 3 weeks of daily lessons with Lena. Alaric nodded, not trusting himself to sign back. “Me, too,” Aldrich signed, and Allaric’s eyes widened in surprise. His father scared. The king smiled, a rare, genuine expression.
But we’ll be scared together. And Lena will be there. You trust her. Yes. Then trust this. Aldrich’s hands moved slowly, making sure his son understood. You deserve to be seen, to be heard, not hidden away like something broken. But I am broken. Allaric signed, his small hands heavy with resignation.
I can’t speak like you. Aldrich caught his son’s hands in his own. You speak perfectly. The world just needs to learn your language. He said it aloud, then signed it. Imperfect, but heartfelt. The world needs to learn your language. The grand balcony overlooked the main courtyard where thousands had gathered.
Humans and vampires alike, dressed in spring colors, carrying lanterns even in daylight as tradition demanded. Lena stood to the side as the royal family emerged. The king first, majestic and commanding, then Allaric, so small beside his father, his face pale but determined. The crowd erupted in cheers. But as they noticed the young prince, many seeing him clearly for the first time, the sound faltered, confused.
Aldrich raised his hand for silence. His voice carried across the courtyard, amplified by ancient acoustics built into the palace walls. “My people, today my son joins me not as a shadow, but as your prince,” he gestured to all Alaric, who stepped forward, his legs shaking. Aldrich’s hand moved to his son’s shoulder, steady and supportive. “Prince all Alaric will address you now.
Miss Thorne will provide his voice.” Lena moved to stand between them, visible to all. A human girl on the royal balcony, history being made in real time. Alaric looked up at his father, terrified. Aldrich nodded encouragement. The prince’s hands began to move. “Thank you for coming,” he signed, and Lena’s voice rang out clear and strong.
“Thank you for coming.” The crowd stirred. Allaric’s hands moved faster, gaining confidence. I know I’m different. I know I can’t speak the way you expect. But I can still listen. I can still care. I can still hope to serve you someday. Lena translated every word, her voice steady even as tears pricricked her eyes.
My father taught me that strength comes in many forms. Allaric continued glancing at the king. And my friend taught me that being different doesn’t mean being less. He paused, looking out at the sea of faces. Then his hands moved in a sweeping gesture that needed no translation, a sign for beautiful, directed at the lanterns they carried.
Someone in the crowd, a small child, waved back, mimicking the gesture. Then another person signed, “Hello,” clumsy and uncertain. Then another. A ripple of movement spread through the crowd as people began raising their hands, attempting simple signs, trying to speak back to their prince in his own language. All Alaric’s face transformed.
His signs became animated, joyful as he told them about the spring flowers in his courtyard, about birds and stories and hope. And beside him, King Aldrich raised his own hands. Proud, he signed for all to see. Proud of you. The crowd understood the gesture even without translation. The emotion was universal. The cheers that erupted weren’t polite ceremony.
They were genuine, thunderous, and warm, washing over the balcony like a wave. For the first time, Prince Allaric wasn’t invisible. He was seen. The lanterns floated like fallen stars over the city, thousands of them drifting upward into the twilight sky. From the palace balcony, a private one this time, far from ceremony and crowds, three figures watched in comfortable silence.
All Alaric sat between his father and Lena, his legs swinging over the edge of the stone bench, still wearing his formal robes though he’d convinced someone to remove the stiff collar. His face glowed with lingering excitement, cheeks flushed from the day’s events. Did you see how many people tried to sign back? His hands moved rapidly, the way they always did when he was happy.
There was a little girl in a yellow dress who signed hello and thank you and I signed back and she smiled so big and breathe. Lena signed laughing silently. Allaric grinned but didn’t slow down. And the baker from the East Market, he signed bread and asked if I liked bread and I said yes. And he looked so happy that I understood. And what’s he saying? Aldrich asked, leaning forward.
His signing had improved, but Alic’s excited speed still outpaced his ability to follow. He’s recounting everyone who signed to him today. Lena translated warmth in her voice. All 47 of them in detail. Aldrich’s expression softened. He reached over and gently caught one of his son’s flying hands. “Slow down,” he signed carefully. “I want to understand.
” All Alaric took a breath and started again, slower this time, making sure his father could follow. He signed about the crowd, about the feeling of being seen, about not being invisible anymore. And Aldrich understood most of it. Not all. There were still signs he didn’t know, concepts he couldn’t quite follow, but enough. More than enough.
When all Alaric finished, the king’s hands moved deliberately. Proud of you. So proud. It was the same sign he’d made on the grand balcony, but somehow it meant more here in private with no audience to perform for. Alaric threw his arms around his father’s waist, and Aldrich pulled him close, one large hand cradling the back of his son’s head the way he used to when Allaric was an infant before the silence had grown between them like a wall. “Thank you,” Aldrich said quietly to Lena over his son’s head.
“For giving him back to me. I didn’t do anything, Lena replied. I just listened. You did everything. The king’s eyes were bright in the lantern light. You saw him when the rest of us were blind. A comfortable silence settled over them as they watched the lanterns drift higher, carrying the city’s wishes and prayers into the night sky.
After a while, Allaric pulled away from his father and signed something Lena couldn’t quite catch. The king frowned, trying to follow, then looked to Lena for help. He’s asking if you’ll tell him a bedtime story, she translated in sign language. So he can understand every word. Aldrich’s expression flickered. Uncertainty, fear of failure, then determination. I can try, he signed. But I’m not good at stories.
You don’t have to be good, Alaric signed back. You just have to be here. Something in those words struck Aldrich deeply. Lena saw it in the way his shoulders dropped, the way his breath caught. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said, starting to rise. “No.” Alaric signed urgently. “Stay, please. You’re part of this, too.
” So, she stayed. King Aldrich, ruler of the vampire realm, conqueror of kingdoms, began to sign a story. clumsy and slow, frequently pausing to ask Lena for help with signs he didn’t know. It was about a warrior who’d forgotten how to be gentle and a small bird who taught him to listen instead of fight. It wasn’t a very good story. The plot wandered.
The signs were imperfect. But Alaric watched his father’s hands with complete focus, his dark eyes shining. And when Aldrich sang the part where the warrior finally understood the bird’s song, the prince smiled so wide it looked like his face might split in half.
When the story ended, Allaric clapped his hands in the silent applause Lena had taught him, bouncing with delight. Again, he signed, “Tell another one.” “It’s late.” Aldrich signed back, but he was smiling. “Tomorrow. Promise. Promise.” Alaric yawned despite himself, the excitement of the day finally catching up with him. Aldrich stood, lifting his son easily.
7 years old, was still young enough to be carried, though not for much longer. At the doorway, the king paused and turned back to Lena. His free hand moved, forming signs that had taken him hours to practice in private. Thank you for teaching me to see my son. He was always there, Lena signed back.
You just needed to learn his language. We all did. Aldrich agreed. Then with his son drowsing against his shoulder, he added, “Tomorrow I’m issuing a royal decree.” Sign language will be taught throughout the palace to the guards, the servants, the council members, everyone. Your majesty, that’s it’s not enough, but it’s a start.
His expression was serious. now regal. No child in my kingdom should feel invisible because the world won’t learn their language. And no parent should be separated from their child by something as simple as words. He carried Allaric away, the prince’s small hand trailing behind them, fingers moving sleepily in unconscious signs, even as he drifted toward dreams.
Lena remained on the balcony, watching the last lanterns disappear into the stars. She thought about the terrified girl who’d spilled wine 3 weeks ago, certain she’d be executed for speaking to a prince. About a lonely boy who’d learned that being different meant being invisible. About a king who’d forgotten how to be a father until his son taught him that strength came in many forms.
Below in the courtyard, she saw palace guards already practicing signs with each other, laughing at their mistakes, trying again. Servants teaching nobles. Nobles teaching children. A language of hands spreading through the palace like spring flowers after a long winter. A new tradition born from a moment of broken crystal and spilled wine.
Born from one simple question. Are you okay? And an answer that changed everything. Yes. Now I am. 6 months later, the Royal Library held its first public signing hour. Prince Allaric, now eight, taught a room full of children, human and vampire alike, how to sign their names, tell stories, and speak without voices.
His father attended every session, sitting in the back, still learning, still trying, still there. And when all Alaric signed his stories, hands moving like lightning, painting pictures in the air, the entire room understood. Finally, the silent air had found his voice, and the kingdom had learned to listen.