Chapter 10: Betrayal - Lady Isabella's Double-cross:

The moonlight streamed through the open balcony, casting a silver glow over Lady Isabella's alabaster skin as she sat across from Morgana. The air was thick with the scent of ancient tomes and the subtle hint of betrayal. Lady Isabella's fingers entwined gracefully around the stem of her wine glass, her blood-red nails a stark contrast to the crystal.

"Surely you understand the precarious position this puts us in, Morgana," Isabella's voice was a melodic whisper, yet it carried the weight of steel.

Morgana, draped in shadows, leaned forward, her eyes glinting with a predator's keenness. "Do enlighten me, dear Isabella."

"Drakon and Eleanor, they possess knowledge and artifacts that could threaten us all," Isabella said, her gaze never faltering. "I have come to believe that my own safety hinges on their... containment."

"And what secrets do these two hold that could sway your loyalty so?" Morgana's interest piqued, her posture straightened with an elegance matched only by the danger in her tone.

Isabella's lips curled into a smile, though it did not reach her eyes. "Eleanor carries the Amulet of Tenebris, a relic with the power to control the very shadows. Drakon, he has been decoding the Prophecy of Endless Night. Together, they could unravel our dominion."

"Such valuable information, Isabella," Morgana purred, rising to her feet like a wraith ascending from the depths. "You've served your interests well tonight."

Isabella watched with a sense of hollow victory as Morgana disappeared behind the velvet curtains, the future uncertain but her immediate status secured—for now.

Days turned into weeks, and Isabella's malice towards Eleanor festered like a wound left untended. She couldn't shake the bitterness that gnawed at her insides, fueled by the knowledge that her father, the king, was supposed to be her husband before Eleanor's mother married him. That was why she asked to be turned into a vampire after she runs away in grief after she was rejected by Eleanor's father . The mere sight of Eleanor, with her radiant beauty and unyielding spirit, was a constant reminder of what could have been hers.

In the castle's grand hall, where shadows danced in the flickering torchlight, Isabella's disdain for Eleanor simmered beneath the surface. She watched as Eleanor conversed with Drakon, their laughter mingling with the soft strains of music that filled the air. Jealousy twisted in Isabella's gut like a serpent, tightening its grip with each passing moment.

As the night wore on, Isabella found herself drawn to the balcony, seeking solace in the cool night air. She leaned against the stone railing, her thoughts consumed by thoughts of vengeance. Eleanor had stolen everything from her – her birthright, her father's affection, and now, the love of the one man Isabella had ever truly desired.

A voice interrupted her reverie, cutting through the darkness like a dagger. "Lady Isabella."

Startled, Isabella turned to see Ezekiel, his eyes grave with concern. "What do you want, Ezekiel?" she snapped, her temper flaring.

Ezekiel approached her cautiously, his expression unreadable. "I couldn't help but notice your... animosity towards Lady Eleanor. Is there something you wish to share?"

Isabella bristled at the implication. "Why should I confide in you, of all people? You're nothing but a servant, beneath my notice."

Ezekiel's gaze hardened, his voice tinged with steel. "I may be a servant, but I serve the crown. And if there is a threat to the kingdom, I will not hesitate to act."

Isabella's eyes narrowed, suspicion coursing through her veins. "What are you insinuating?"

Ezekiel took a step closer, his voice low and intense. "I have heard whispers, Lady Isabella. Whispers of your alliance with Morgana, of your plans to betray the king and seize power for yourself."

Isabella recoiled, her heart pounding in her chest. "You dare accuse me of treason?"

"I dare speak the truth," Ezekiel replied, his gaze unwavering. "And if you value your life, you will heed my warning. The king may be blind to your schemes, but I am not."

With that, Ezekiel turned on his heel and strode back into the castle, leaving Isabella alone with her thoughts. Fear gnawed at her insides, a cold dread settling in the pit of her stomach. Could Ezekiel be right? Had she been played by Morgana, used as a pawn in a game she didn't fully understand?

Desperation clawed at Isabella's chest as she struggled to make sense of the situation. She knew she had to act, to protect herself from the accusations that threatened to destroy her. But how? And who could she trust in a world where betrayal lurked around every corner?

As the night wore on, Isabella retreated to her chambers, her mind whirling with dark thoughts and half-formed plans. She knew she had to tread carefully, to navigate the treacherous waters of court politics with cunning and guile. For if she was to survive, she would need all the allies she could muster – and the strength to face whatever dangers lay ahead.