The dog's whimpers shattered into silence as the vampire prince's fangs tore deeper.
Its fur was wet with blood, its body limp in his pale hands. He drank until the animal's heart fluttered and failed, until even the echo of life was gone.
He let the corpse drop with a hollow thud on the marble floor.
Crimson smeared his lips, dripping lazily down his jaw.
The air was thick with iron, with death, with power.
Around him, servants in black silks knelt, their foreheads pressed to the stone. Not one dared breathe too loudly.
"My lord," one finally whispered, eyes fixed on the ground. "Preparations are complete. By sundown, the girl will be delivered."
The prince's tongue flicked against his sharp teeth, catching the last of the blood. His eyes — silver veined with red — narrowed.
"Offered like cattle?" His voice was a velvet blade. "Does she come willingly?"
The servant swallowed hard. "No, my lord. The village chose her. They… they said it was her, or their children would burn."
The prince's smile was cruel, cold, beautiful.
He turned back to the dead dog and nudged it with his boot, as though testing the weight of fate itself.
"Good," he murmured. "I prefer them unwilling."
The torches flickered, and for a moment the hall seemed to bow with the servants — not to the crown he did not yet wear, but to the hunger that ruled him.
The servants kept their heads low, waiting for dismissal.
But the prince rose, his cloak sliding from his shoulders like a shadow untethered. His fangs caught the light, still wet with the dog's blood.
"No," he said, voice a low growl. "I will not wait until sundown."
The chamber trembled with the words. The servants flinched.
He turned toward the great arched windows, where the night pressed against the glass like a promise.
His silver-red eyes gleamed with a hunger that had nothing to do with food.
"She will not be delivered to me." He licked his lips, cruel and deliberate. "I will take her. Tonight."
"My lord?" one of the braver servants dared to whisper. "It is… against custom."
"Customs," he said, striding past them, his hand closing around the hilt of his blade, "are for kings. I am not a king. I am thirsty."
The last torch sputtered out behind him, leaving the servants in darkness as his footsteps echoed away, carrying the weight of a decision that would stain more than the night.
The great doors slammed behind him, the sound echoing like a death knell.
The vampire prince was gone, but the night would carry him to her.
†‡†‡†‡
Aeryl pressed her face into her sister's arms, her sobs muffled by worn linen.
Her shoulders shook, small and breakable, as though her body already knew it was being given away.
"I can't believe it," she whispered hoarsely. "I can't believe Father won't fight for me. Not even on this."
Her elder sister smoothed trembling fingers through Aeryl's hair, but her own tears betrayed her calm.
"He can't, Aeryl. You're a hybrid. They would burn the whole village if he defied the decree. You… you were chosen to save us. Or.... they'd kill us.... all."
Aeryl pulled back, eyes swollen and wet, her dark and long lashes sticking together. "Chosen?" she spat. "No. Offered. Like a lamb for slaughter."
The walls of their small chamber groaned as the wind pushed against them.
Outside, the villagers lit torches, preparing the path for the monster who would come.
Aeryl gripped her elder sister tighter, the way a drowning soul clings to driftwood. "I don't want to go. Gods help me, I don't want to go."
And somewhere, beyond the hills and trees, the prince's silver-red eyes gleamed in the dark.
Lilah cupped Aeryl's damp cheeks, forcing a fragile smile through her own tears. "You need to rest, little bird. If you don't sleep, you'll face him weak. I'll pray for you tonight, until my voice breaks."
"Prayers won't save me," Aeryl whispered bitterly, her voice trembling.
Before Lilah could answer, the door creaked open.
Their old mother stumbled inside, her apron still stained from the day's work, her face streaked with tears.
She covered her mouth with both hands, as though even breathing too loudly might shatter what little strength remained.
"Mother…" Aeryl's voice cracked, and she reached out with desperate fingers. "Come with me. Please—come with me when they take me. Please, Mother."
Her mother fell to her knees beside the bed, clutching her daughter's hands so tightly the knuckles blanched. "If I could, I would follow you into his castle, into his very jaws. But if I leave, your father, your sisters—this family will burn. They won't even let me."
Aeryl shook her head furiously, blond hair falling across her wet cheeks. "So I'm to go alone? To a monster's bed, like a lamb tied for slaughter, while you all hide behind your prayers? I am going to be killed, mother."