Three days pass in a careful dance of submission and rebellion.
I learn the rhythm of Kael's days - council meetings in the morning, correspondence in the afternoon, court dinners that stretch late into the night. I serve his meals from my place on the floor beside his chair, accept water from his fingers when he deigns to offer it, and sleep on the furs in the corner of his chambers.
But I don't break. And that, I'm beginning to realize, fascinates him.
Today feels different. There's electricity in the air, a tension that makes the servants whisper and hurry past with downcast eyes. Even Mira seems nervous when she helps me into the simple gray dress that marks me as his property.
"The full court will be there tonight," she whispers as she fastens the collar around my throat. "All the noble families. They'll want to see..."
"See what?"
"How far you've fallen. How well you've been... trained."
The word makes my skin crawl, but I keep my expression neutral. "And if I haven't been trained to their satisfaction?"
Mira's hands still on the collar's clasp. "Then tonight might be your last night in the prince's chambers."
The great hall is a cavern of shadows and flickering candlelight when I follow Kael inside. Long tables stretch the length of the room, filled with vampire nobility in their finery - silk and velvet, jewels that catch the light like captured stars. Their conversations die as we enter, replaced by the whisper of fabric and the clink of goblets.
Every eye follows us as Kael takes his place at the high table. I kneel beside his chair as I've been taught, hands folded, eyes downcast. But I can feel their stares like physical weights, pressing down on my shoulders.
"Beautiful creature," someone murmurs. "So young."
"How long do you think this one will last?" asks another voice, pitched to carry.
"Not long," comes the reply. "They never do."
Kael's hand finds my hair, fingers tangling possessively. "Gentlemen, ladies," he says, his voice carrying easily across the hall. "Allow me to present my newest... acquisition."
The word hits me like a slap, but I don't flinch. Won't give them the satisfaction.
"She's lovely," purrs a woman's voice i think, though I don't dare look up. "Does she have any... talents?"
"We're still discovering those," Kael replies, and there's dark amusement in his tone. "Aren't we, pet?"
I nod once, the movement sharp and controlled.
The feast begins - course after course of delicacies I can only smell, wine that flows like blood in crystal goblets. I remain kneeling, accepting the occasional morsel from Kael's fingers when he remembers I exist. The marble floor is cold against my knees, but I don't shift or complain.
I endure.
"More wine, Your Highness?" A servant appears at Kael's elbow, crystal decanter gleaming in the candlelight.
"Please." Kael pushes his goblet forward, but his attention is on Lord Blackthorne's story about a hunting expedition. The servant pours, wine dark as fresh blood catching the light.
That's when it happens.
A stumble. A miscalculation. The servant's elbow brushes against me as I shift slightly, and suddenly the goblet is falling, wine arcing through the air like a crimson waterfall.
It hits the table with a crash that echoes through the suddenly silent hall. Wine spreads across Kael's papers - correspondence, treaties, documents bearing royal seals - staining them dark as blood.
"You clumsy bitch!" The woman's voice cuts through the silence like a whip. "Look what you've done!"
All eyes turn to me. I can feel their hunger, their anticipation. This is what they came for - not the feast, not the politics, but the entertainment. The show.
My humiliation.
Kael stares at the spreading stain, his expression unreadable. When he finally speaks, his voice is silk wrapped around steel. "Clean it."
I look up at him, meeting his dark eyes for the first time since we entered the hall. "Master?"
"Clean. It." Each word is precise, deliberate. "With your tongue."
The hall erupts in whispers and barely concealed laughter. This is the moment they've been waiting for - the breaking point, where dignity finally crumbles under the weight of absolute power.
I could beg. Could cry. Could give them the spectacle of a girl reduced to an animal. Some part of me wants to - the part that's tired of fighting, tired of holding onto pride when it costs so much.
Instead, I meet Kael's gaze and let my tongue dart out to wet my lips.
"As you wish, Master."
The marble floor is cold against my palms as I lower myself to all fours. Every eye in the hall is on me as I lean forward, bringing my face close to the spreading pool of wine. I can smell it - rich and complex, with undertones of something metallic that makes my stomach turn.
But I won't give them tears. Won't give them the broken thing they expect.
I'll give them defiance instead.
My tongue touches the marble. The wine is bitter - like iron, like shame. Like everything in this place. But as I lap up the spill like the pet they think I am, I keep my eyes fixed on Kael's face.
Watching. Challenging. He owns my body - but never my spirit.
I don't look away. Don't lower my gaze in submission. I meet his stare even as I lick wine from the stone floor like an animal.
Something flickers behind those ancient eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or hunger. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly, and I see his hands clench into fists on the table's edge.
He wanted me to break. Expected begging and tears and the sweet satisfaction of another girl finally accepting her place.
What he got was defiance served with dignity he doesn't know how to swallow.
"Good pet," he murmurs finally, but the words sound strained. Forced.
The court watches in fascination as I finish cleaning the spill, every drop of wine licked from the marble floor. When I finally sit back on my heels, my lips are stained dark and my pride is battered but unbroken.
"How... thorough," the woman I've come to know as Lady Sera says, her voice dripping with disdain. "Tell me, Your Highness, is this how you train all your pets?"
"Only the special ones," Kael replies, but his eyes never leave my face. "Only those worth the effort."
Silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken things. The court fades into background noise, their whispers and cruel laughter becoming nothing more than distant buzzing.
Because in this moment, it's just him and me. Master and pet. Vampire and something else entirely that neither of us understands yet.
He lifts his goblet - a fresh one, hastily provided by a trembling servant - and takes a sip. But his hand shakes slightly, so subtly that only I notice.
I smile then. Just a slight curve of stained lips, barely visible to anyone watching.
But he sees it. And for the first time since I've known him, Prince Kael Drakmoor looks uncertain.
Looks unsettled.
"Again," he says suddenly, his voice rougher than before. "There's more wine on the floor."
I look down and see he's right - a few drops have scattered beyond the main spill, dark against the pale marble.
"Yes, Master," I say, and lower myself to clean those too.
But this time, when my tongue touches the stone, I let my eyes drift closed. Let a soft sound escape my throat - not quite a moan, but something that makes every vampire in the hall shift uncomfortably in their seats.
When I look up again, Kael's knuckles are white where he grips his goblet.
"That's enough," he says sharply, standing so quickly his chair scrapes against stone. "Court is dismissed."
"But Your Highness," Lord Blackthorne protests, "we haven't finished-"
"I said dismissed." The command carries absolute authority, the kind that has backed empires and toppled kingdoms.
The nobles file out reluctantly, their disappointed murmurs following them into the corridor. They came for a show and got one, just not the one they expected.
Soon we're alone in the great hall, just Kael and me and the echo of what just happened between us.
"Stand," he commands, but his voice lacks its usual steel.
I rise gracefully, wine-stained lips curved in that same small smile. "Was that satisfactory, Master?"
He stares at me for a long moment, something dangerous flickering in his dark eyes. "You enjoyed that."
"I survived it."
"That's not what I meant."
I tilt my head, playing innocent. "Then I'm afraid I don't understand."
He moves closer, each step deliberate and predatory. "You turned my punishment into a performance. Made degradation look like... like..."
"Like what, Master?"
"Like power." The words are barely a whisper, but they hit like a thunderclap.
Because that's exactly what I did. Took his attempt to humiliate me and turned it into something else entirely. Something that left him shaken and uncertain while I remained unbroken.
"I don't know what you mean," I lie smoothly.
His hand shoots out, fingers gripping my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. "Don't. Play. Games. With. Me."
"I wouldn't dream of it, Master."
We stare at each other across the space between us - hunter and hunted, master and pet, vampire and something that calls to the darkness in his blood even as it terrifies him.
"You're dangerous," he breathes, thumb tracing along my wine-stained lower lip.
"I'm a pet," I remind him. "Nothing more."
But we both know that's a lie. Have known it since the moment I refused to scream when the iron burned my skin. Have known it every time I've chosen dignity over surrender, defiance over broken submission.
"Yes," he says finally, but his voice carries doubt for the first time since I've known him. "You are."
He releases my chin and steps back, but the space between us still crackles with tension.
"Come," he commands, turning toward the door. "It's time for bed."
I follow him from the hall, past flickering torches and portraits of long-dead ancestors. But as we walk, I catch our reflection in a darkened window - him tall and pale and perfectly controlled, me smaller but somehow matching his stride.
Not following. Walking beside him.
Like an equal.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, it feels like coming home to something I never knew I'd lost.
And in the darkness behind us, wine still stains the marble floor where I chose dignity over degradation, defiance over surrender.
Where I turned his test into mine.
And somehow, impossibly...
I think I might have won.