Morning sunlight filtered through the high windows of the East Wing, bathing the halls in a pale golden glow. The mansion was already alive with the soft bustle of servants preparing for the day. Clara, carrying a folded set of clean linens, moved quietly toward Nerine's room.
She knocked once.
"Miss Nerine?" she called softly. No answer.
She knocked again, a little louder. "It's morning, miss. You asked me to wake you early."
Still nothing.
Clara frowned, her fingers curling around the brass doorknob as she pushed the door open. The bed was empty, the sheets slightly rumpled, and the pillow faintly indented where a head had lain. The curtains were drawn halfway, letting in the light, but there was no sign of her mistress.
At first, Clara thought she might have risen early and gone for some fresh air. But when she checked the balcony, the chairs were untouched. No cloak was missing from the stand by the door either.
Her unease grew. She hurried from the room and went straight for the butler, who was overseeing the arrangement of silverware in the main dining hall.
"Mr. Hale," she said, trying to keep her voice steady, "I… can't find Miss Nerine in her room. She's not outside either."
The butler's brows knit. "Did she tell you she'd be leaving her room?"
"No, sir."
Within minutes, the quiet hum of the morning turned into a tense stir. Servants began moving through the corridors, checking the gardens, the library, even the unused guest rooms.
Kael descended the main staircase just as the commotion reached the front hall. His eyes narrowed at the sight of the small gathering. "What's going on?" His voice cut through the murmur like a blade.
The butler straightened. "My lord… Miss Nerine is unaccounted for. We've been searching the house...."
Kael's tone turned colder. "Unaccounted for?" His gaze swept the hall. "Check my sister's room. Now."
As if summoned, Penelope appeared from the corridor, still adjusting the lace cuffs of her morning dress. "What's all this noise about?" she asked, stepping down the final stair.
"Lady Sofia is missing," Kael replied curtly.
Penelope blinked in surprise. "I haven't seen her since we got home last evening. I thought she retired early."
Kael didn't waste another second. Without another word, he turned and strode toward Nerine's room. His boots echoed against the polished floors. The moment he stepped inside, he scanned the space with a practiced eye—searching for anything the servants might have overlooked.
It was then, in the stillness, that his ears caught it—a faint, slow heartbeat.
His head turned sharply toward the far side of the bed. Moving quickly, he rounded the edge… and there she was.
Nerine lay crumpled on the floor, her hair spilling across the polished wood, a broken glass beside her with water soaking into the rug. Her breathing was shallow, her skin pale.
Without hesitation, Kael bent down, slipping one arm under her knees and the other behind her back, lifting her as though she weighed nothing. He straightened slowly, his expression unreadable but his eyes hard.
The butler and Clara appeared at the doorway. Clara gasped. "M-my lord—"
Kael turned his gaze on her, and she faltered instantly.
"When," he asked quietly, dangerously, "were you planning to tell me about the wound on her waist?"
Clara's eyes went wide. "I...i...she said it was nothing....."
"That was not my question," Kael interrupted, his voice like ice. "You saw it. You knew. And yet you left it untreated?"
The butler stepped in, "My lord, perhaps....."
Kael's glare silenced him. "You are her maid, Clara. Your duty is to protect her, not to obey her when she makes a foolish decision about her health. Do you imagine I care for her opinion on the matter when she's lying unconscious on the floor?"
"I… I'm sorry, my lord," Clara stammered, shrinking back.
"Sorry will not keep her alive," Kael said coldly, brushing past them with Nerine in his arms. "Fetch the physician. Now."
The urgency in his tone left no room for argument. Within minutes, the estate's physician arrived with two assistants, their leather satchels clicking open to reveal instruments and jars of herbs. Nerine was placed on the bed, her breathing steadier now, though her cheeks remained pale.
Kael stood beside her the entire time, arms crossed, his posture rigid. He said nothing, but his gaze followed every movement of the physicians.
Penelope, hovering near the doorway, kept glancing between her brother and Nerine. The tension in the room was heavy; even the servants seemed to tread more quietly.
After a thorough examination, the physician straightened and bowed slightly. "My lord, she is not gravely ill. The young lady is simply exhausted, coupled with a mild chill. With proper rest and a strengthening draught, she will recover."
Kael gave a curt nod. "Write her prescription. Give it to my sister."
The physician complied, handing the note to Penelope, who left with him to have the medicine prepared. The others filed out, leaving Kael alone with Nerine.
For a moment, he simply stood there, watching her. She looked impossibly small against the expanse of the bed, one arm resting limply by her side.
It was early afternoon when she stirred, a faint crease forming between her brows. Her lips parted as if she were speaking to someone unseen.
"…Momma… do… don't leave me…"
A single tear slid from the corner of her eye.
Before he realized it, Kael reached down, brushing the tear away with the pad of his thumb. His gaze lingered on her face, and for an instant, something unguarded flickered in his eyes—something that vanished as quickly as it came.
The sound of the door opening broke the moment. Kostas stepped inside, bowing slightly. "My lord."
Kael straightened. "We were ambushed last night."
Kostas's expression hardened. "By whom?"
"Half-blood rogues," Kael replied. "Too organized to be acting alone. I suspect the witches and vampires are working together again. Double the guard. I want every man alert. If they dare come this close, we make them regret it."
"Yes, my lord." Kostas bowed again before leaving.
Moments later, Penelope returned, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of herbal concoction. The scent was sharp—ginger, bitter root, and something metallic. She set it on the side table and sat at the edge of the bed.
"How do we give this to her when she won't open her mouth?" Penelope muttered to herself. She dipped the spoon into the liquid, gently pressing it to Nerine's lips. The moment she tried to tilt it, most of the liquid slid down her chin.
Penelope sighed in frustration, dabbing the spill away with a cloth. She tried again, but Nerine's lips remained sealed.
Kael's shadow fell over her. "Move."
She blinked up at him. "Brother, she can't..."
He didn't answer. Instead, he took the bowl from her hands. Holding it with one hand, he lifted it to his lips and took a mouthful.
Before anyone could comprehend his intention, he leaned over Nerine, pressing his mouth firmly to hers. Penelope froze, eyes wide, her cheeks warming, and the maids in the room quickly turned away, faces flushed.
Kael tilted her head slightly, coaxing the liquid into her mouth. She swallowed reflexively, and he pulled back just enough to take another sip, repeating the process until the bowl was nearly empty.
When he finally straightened, his expression was unreadable, though his voice carried its usual commanding calm. "Clear the room. She needs to sleep."
Penelope rose quickly, gathering the empty bowl, and the maids hurried to follow her out. The door shut behind them, leaving the room in a hush.
Kael stood for a moment longer, looking down at her. Then, as though remembering himself, he turned and walked out, heading toward his own chambers, his face composed—but his aura… not quite as steady as before.