CHAPTER SEVEN: A Blade Between Us
Alexander didn't sleep.
Even as Esterphania draped the blanket over him and backed away, he lay there—eyes open, chest rising unevenly, hand pressed lightly to the still-aching wound on his abdomen.
The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting golden shadows across her room. It smelled faintly of lavender and old spellbooks.
Esterphania glanced at him from where she sat cross-legged near the couch. Her dark hair fell across her shoulders, her brows pulled into a thoughtful frown.
She studied him for a moment before finally speaking. "So? What happened exactly?"
Alexander turned his head toward her, his eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
"It was yesterday," he began, voice hoarse but steady. "We were camped near the Shatter Plains. The rest of the troops were sleeping. We'd just finished scouting and were ready to return at dawn."
He paused, his expression darkening. "That's when I heard something. Two footsteps. Light, careful. Too careful. I knew it wasn't one of ours."
Esterphania leaned in slightly, listening intently.
"They came from the shadows. Vampires, but… different. They carried a black dagger that glowed red at the edges. I fought them. Won. Barely. One of them sliced me across the stomach—it was shallow. Just a graze."
He looked down at the wound, now slowed but still tender.
"I thought it was nothing. We burned the bodies. Went back to camp. I didn't tell anyone. But by the time the sun began to rise… the wound had doubled in size. I panicked. Told my captain to stay behind with the others. Rode here alone. Fast as I could."
His voice trailed off, the weight of the decision finally settling. "And now… here I am."
Silence stretched between them for a few long moments.
Then Esterphania's eyes widened.
Her breath caught.
"Wait," she whispered, rising to her feet and pacing toward him. "You said… a black dagger with red glow?"
He nodded slowly. "Yes. Looked like obsidian dipped in blood."
She inhaled sharply. "That wasn't just any blade. That… that's the same kind of weapon they used to kill my mother."
His eyes flicked up. "What?"
"I've read about it. I've studied it. It's a cursed dagger infused with corrupted holy magic. Normally, it takes pure holy energy to destroy a demon. But if the demon has royal blood, it's not enough. They're immune to light. So they infuse it… with rot. With filth. With something unholy."
He stared, processing.
"But the one that cut you… it wasn't holy. It was demonic," she whispered, her hands trembling now. "And no human, vampire, or lycan can dispel a demonic curse. Only a demon can."
She looked up at him, her lips trembling. "That's why no one has survived those blades. That's why they've become the deadliest weapon on the continent."
Alexander swallowed hard. "So… I'm dead."
"No," she said, stepping forward. "I can do it."
His brow furrowed. "You just said—"
"I can do it," she insisted. "I'm a demon. I've been training. I've been preparing. But…"
She hesitated.
"I don't know if I'm powerful enough yet."
Alexander smiled weakly, pain lacing his features. "You are."
"You're only saying that because you want me to save your ass."
"You're not wrong," he admitted, chuckling. "But I still believe in you. Mainly because… you're my only hope right now."
Esterphania rolled her eyes. "Shut your mouth. You irritate me."
He grinned, then winced again.
She closed her eyes, centering herself. Her aura pulsed like a heartbeat—dark purple flames licking at her fingers. The fire in the hearth dimmed, as if the shadows bent toward her willingly.
"I don't like you," she said flatly, stepping in front of him. "I'm only doing this because of Father."
"Fair enough."
"Grit your teeth," she warned. "This will hurt. And I don't want the guards barging into my room."
Without another word, she plunged her hands into the wound.
He screamed—biting into the fabric of the couch as her demonic energy surged into him. It was like fire and ice, like his blood was being ripped apart molecule by molecule.
But she didn't stop.
She muttered ancient words, forbidden ones, etched into the bones of the underworld. Her eyes glowed—burning violet with power. The curse inside the wound sizzled, screamed, and finally—died.
The skin mended. The rot evaporated. The wound vanished.
And then… silence.
Esterphania collapsed to her knees, drenched in sweat.
Alexander gasped for air, blinking as if seeing color for the first time.
"…Thanks, kid," he croaked.
She glared at him. "Don't call me that."
He laughed, head dropping back against the cushions. "Either way… I owe you. A lot."
She stood up slowly, brushing her hands off on her nightgown.
"And I still don't like you," she muttered.
"Wasn't expecting a friendship bracelet."
"Good. Because we're not getting along anytime soon."
"Hell no," he agreed.
They paused—then both burst into quiet laughter.
It was strange. It felt... easy. For the first time in years, maybe ever, she wasn't talking to Alexander the Prince. He wasn't mocking her, and she wasn't hiding behind barbs. Just two broken pieces... stitched together for a moment in the dark.
"You reek of blood," she said, pinching her nose. "Take a shower."
He smirked. "Yes, Your Highness."
"And sleep on the chair," she added, turning toward her bed. "Leave before I wake up. And not a word of this."
He gave a lazy salute. "You got it."
She climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her.
But long after the room fell quiet, they both lay awake—silent, thoughtful, something shifting between them.
Maybe this kingdom wasn't the only thing changing.