Through the darkness of the night, a carriage rattled toward a grand mansion. Inside sat a man with hair like spun silver and a woman in a red gown, now huddled beneath the heavy folds of a shawl.
"We are here. Please, hold on just a little longer," Ivan said.
Floria had reached out to him the moment she felt the sickening shift in her body—a violent instability as she struggled to maintain her human form.
"Ivan… I don't feel good. I can't hold it anymore," Floria stammered. Her skin was deepening into a dark, bruised blue, and fine scales began to prickle across her surface. As she slumped into his arms, Ivan looked down at her wrist. The enchanted thread he had tied there was slowly crumbling into ash.
They met again, he thought grimly. This will not bode well for Floria. I will not let him take her from me a second time.
"Am I going to die, Ivan? Tell me," she pleaded. Every cell in her body felt as though it were shrinking, pulled by invisible, agonizing strings. Ivan watched her wince and writhe as her legs began to press together, fusing by some supernatural force.
Without a word to the coachman, Ivan stripped away her stockings and shoes, wrapping her legs in his own heavy coat. He scooped her into his arms and bolted toward the mansion with inhuman speed.
"MARIANNE! Prepare the tub in my room with warm water. Now!"
Marianne, seeing her master appear as if out of thin air, hurried to obey. It was rare to hear such urgency in his voice, and she knew better than to hesitate.
"Flor? Flor, damn it, keep talking to me. Floria!" Ivan tapped her cheek, desperate to keep her conscious. He cursed the "witchy vampire" under his breath; surely the man knew what this would do to her. When Floria had first summoned him from the motel, he had arrived to find her barely able to stand.
Once the bath was ready, he lowered her into the water and sprinkled a fine blue powder over the surface.
"Don't. Flor, don't," he commanded, catching her wrists as she tried to tear at her clothes in her delirium. He looked toward the door, where Marianne stood waiting.
Get her undressed and keep your lips sealed about everything you see here, he ordered telepathically.
Marianne nodded, sensing the gravity of the situation. As she stepped forward to remove the lady's clothing, her eyes widened in shock. Floria's skin had turned a deep, vibrant blue. Her eyes were now stark white with black slits, flecked with shimmering amethyst. Below the waist, her legs had vanished, replaced by a long, greenish tail adorned with orange fins that ran the length of her spine. Her nails had sharpened into dark talons, and her translucent wings were now laced with angry red lines, as if they were bleeding from within.
As Marianne worked with trembling hands, the bathwater began to swirl with an inky, dark discharge.
The door swung open with a heavy thud. "Mas… Master," Marianne stammered, her composure breaking. "The water… it's turning black."
Do not let anyone enter this wing until I say so, Ivan projected firmly.
Marianne bowed and retreated. Ivan stepped closer to see Floria thrashing, her wings flapping wildly against the water. She let out a shrill, piercing shriek. As the cry echoed through the room, her eyes began to shift from amethyst to a brilliant, molten gold.
"What is happening to me, Ivan? Please, help me," she gasped. Her voice had taken on a strange, resonant quality. She clung to the edge of the tub, her long hair draped over her front to shield her body.
"It is almost over, Flor. Just a little more pain," Ivan said softly. "Once this is finished, you won't have to seek out men to share your bed anymore."
She looked at him with those enchanting gold eyes. Ivan kept his gaze steady; he knew the seductive power of a siren, but he was practiced in resisting it.
"Really?" she whispered. "Does that mean… the man I met today was the one who marked me?"
Ivan sat at the edge of the tub, his back turned to her to afford her some dignity. "He is. The thread I gave you was designed to react to the person who holds your mark."
She looked at him, dazed and vulnerable. "Is that so? What should I do now?"
He reached back, gently caressing her cheek as she looked at him with newfound innocence. "Nothing. You only have to wait until morning. When everything settles, I will send you back home."
Floria closed her eyes, exhausted, while Ivan sat in silence. He remained there, a guardian and a gentleman, until the dark clouds in the bathwater finally faded and the water ran clear once more.
Meanwhile, within the walls of Zarafeth Palace, a red-headed man was in the midst of a gruesome indulgence. He sat in an expansive bathtub, the water stained a deep, visceral crimson from the bodies of three maids he had drained dry.
"Your Majesty, shall I bring more women?" asked a lean man, standing a respectful distance from the king, who was currently gripped by a rampant bloodlust.
"Zarch, go and prepare the potions," the vampire commanded, rising from the tub.
Zarch stepped forward to assist him with a robe. He bowed low to the man who was none other than King Liam Atkinson, a ruthless pureblood. A loyal servant, Zarch had served the crown for two generations and understood the King's dark lineage well. Liam's father had been the scion of a powerful pureblood line and a dark witch; he had eventually married a mermaid who was kept in human form, though her death had become inevitable once she entered the treacherous world of the royals.
Zarch entered a private chamber where no one but the King was permitted. Having served the previous monarch, Zarch was well-versed in the nuances of ancient spells. "Your Majesty, the preparations you requested are ready," he announced as the tall, red-haired vampire entered. With a flick of his hand, Liam dismissed Zarch, desiring solitude.
For a century, Liam had waited for his "little rabbit." Now that he had found her again, there was no turning back. He drew a ritual circle and, using the potion, performed a divination that finally located her.
"Just a few more days, and Floria Saipon will be mine again," he murmured. Liam was a possessive sovereign; he did not share what he claimed. From the moment that blonde woman had entered his life, she belonged solely to him—to love and to own. He would crush any pest that dared to flutter around her.
Taking a seat, he called out, "Zarch, invite Mr. Oscar Saipon to the palace tomorrow to discuss royal business dealings."
Oscar Saipon was a man of immense reputation, known across the lands for his business acumen. While the world believed him to be human, there was something unsettling about his success. A mere human could rarely reach such heights in a sector populated by cunning species who would normally eat them alive.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Zarch replied.
The following morning, at half-past three, a carriage pulled up before the Saipon mansion. Ivan stepped out, supporting Floria by her shoulder, and led her inside as the butler opened the door. After helping Floria to her room to rest, Ivan joined Mr. and Mrs. Saipon in the tea room.
"Did everything go according to plan? She won't have to endure this again, will she?" Lily asked, her voice tight with concern.
"It is done," Ivan replied solemnly. "She will not have to deal with that particular agony again."
Despite his words, the couple remained grave. "She has suffered so much since Alice left her," Oscar said. "We cannot bear to see her like this. Ivan, tell us—who is he?"
Ivan was an Elf of incomparable power and foresight, but even he was bound by the ancient laws of his kind. "I cannot give you the name you seek, Oscar. There are things that neither you nor I can change. Now that Floria has met him again, her heart will make it difficult to separate them. The body may forget, but the soul always traces its way back to its destined place."
Oscar and Lily exchanged a worried look. They lived in a society where unmarried women were shunned; their daughter was nearly twenty, and they knew she would eventually need to marry simply to protect her from the venomous gossip of the public.
"Will we be able to find other hybrids for her? Someone capable of protecting her?" Lily asked.
Ivan shook his head thoughtfully. "Many hybrids do not survive birth," Oscar noted grimly. "And those who do tend to hide from common creatures. It will be difficult to find a match."
The lines of worry deepened on the faces of the witch and her husband, but they were suddenly stunned by Ivan's next words.
"Mr. Saipon, please allow me to woo your daughter," Ivan said steadily. "I may not be able to offer her a traditional family, but I will keep her happy. I will protect her with everything I am."
Oscar fell silent for several long moments. Lily searched Ivan's eyes, looking for the sincerity behind the request. Elves were powerful, and while they were not always benevolent, the Saipons had known Ivan for a long time—though perhaps not long enough to truly know his heart.
"I think," Lily said finally, "we should leave the decision to Floria. It is her choice to make."
Both men nodded in somber agreement.
The following morning, the royal assembly fell into a deathly silence as King Liam entered. Every head bowed in unison. "Long live the King, Your Majesty," the herald announced.
Liam gestured for him to continue. A stout dwarf with a grey mustache, holding his hat respectfully under his arm, stepped forward. "Ruffles at your service, sire. The King of Mornareth requests a joint assembly to discuss the recent border unrest."
"A fine idea, Scot," Liam replied, a charming yet predatory smile dancing on his lips. "But for now, let's see who else has been busy. Minister Lee, I have heard of the disputes in Begies. It seems you are overdue for a rest. Why not step aside while we address the people's grievances ourselves?" He turned his gaze to his brother. "Prince Rory shall investigate the matter in Begies and pay a visit to Mr. Lee's residence. I am sure the Minister would be delighted to host him."
Minister Lee collapsed to his knees, his face ashen. "Pl-please, Your Majesty, forgive me! I shall mend my mistakes... I—"
In a blur of steel, the man's sentence was cut short. Liam stood over the body, blood dripping from his sword, his expression cold. "Prince Rory, Warren—you both will handle the dispute in Begies. The Lee mansion and all its assets are now yours to dismantle."
Rory, a handsome merman-vampire hybrid with lush brown hair and hazel-green eyes, bowed alongside Warren. "Yes, Your Majesty." The court was soon dismissed after the King handled a few more tribal matters, including sentencing a thief caught in the royal treasury to the gallows.
At the Saipon mansion, the atmosphere was far lighter. The family sat around the dining table, where Floria appeared much healthier than the night before. Lily was in the middle of a story, recounting the childhood mischief of her children.
"...and that was how Jace opened the gate to the sheepcote! All the sheep scattered across the hills, and Jace was banned from sweets for an entire week," Lily laughed. The room filled with hearty amusement. Even Lillian felt a sense of peace, though she had tried and failed to open the mysterious box with a spell earlier that morning.
"Lillian, dear, have some more. Ethan, pass her the omelet and vegetables," Lily insisted, piling food onto everyone's plates. Oscar watched his wife with a fond smile, well-acquainted with her habit of "food-pushing."
"Lillian," Oscar said, turning to his daughter, "the house registration will be transferred into your name. I have business in Derefield soon, so you and Jace will accompany me there once your studies are finished for the term." Both children nodded obediently.
Later, while the children were being tutored by Ethan and Floria was in the library packing registers for the trip, Oscar and Lily walked in the garden.
"Oscar, do you think Floria will give Ivan a chance?" Lily asked, leaning into her husband's side.
"That is up to her," Oscar replied. "They have known each other for years. Given how difficult it is for someone of her nature to find a suitable match, it isn't a bad prospect. It doesn't even matter if she chooses not to extend the family line."
"But you know how society treats an unwed woman," Lily sighed.
"Do not worry, Lily. We will handle it as we always have." As a witch, Lily had never expected to have a family; in many lands, witches were hunted or burned. She felt blessed that Alice had come into her life like a light, leaving her with such lasting happiness.
"They grow so fast, don't they?" Lily murmured. "It feels like only yesterday I was holding Jace in my womb."
"Indeed. But the worry of the soul mark is behind us now," Oscar said. "We can look toward the future. Though, with the way Jace looks at Lillian, I sometimes worry he might run away with her out of pure impatience." They both shared a quiet laugh.
Back at the palace, Liam stood on the balcony of the royal quarters, a glass of blood-wine in his hand. His younger brother, Rory, approached him.
"It looks like you'll need to visit the Lee estate yourself soon," Rory said. "The case is getting messy. We found letters and piles of embezzled gold hidden there. How did you know he was the one involved?"
"Humans," Liam replied nonchalantly, watching the horizon. "His heartbeat betrayed him the moment the case was mentioned. But he wasn't the mastermind—merely a pawn meant to divert our attention."
"They actually thought they could kill you while you were away from your seat of power," Rory chuckled. "How foolish."
"It would be a tragedy to die just as my life has become interesting again," Liam remarked.
Rory's eyes went wide. "You found her? Oh my... what is her name? Does she look the same? Did she recognize you?"
Liam's lip twitched, but he offered no answer, turning to walk back inside.
"Hey! Where are you going?" Rory shouted after him.
Liam ignored him and signaled a servant. "Prepare the breakfast table."
"Your Majesty," the servant bowed. "Lord Davies is here and wishes to see you."
"Invite him to join me for breakfast," Liam commanded.
It was a rare occurrence. Since losing his loved ones a century ago, Liam rarely sat for formal meals, sustaining himself only on the blood of servants. To the palace staff, he was a mystery—a king who rarely slept with women, and when he did, ensured they never lived to tell the tale.
In the royal dining hall, Liam sat alongside Rory and Warren. Rory was enthusiastically enjoying his meal while Warren remained at a stiff, formal attention.
"My Lord, the investigation at the Lee mansion requires your presence," Warren reported. "There are signs of involvement with witches, though the true architect behind the scheme remains elusive."
Liam continued to eat, seemingly indifferent to the report, though he listened to every word.
Rory leaned in with a smirk. "Brother, surely you don't intend to leave my future sister-in-law outside the palace forever?"
Liam took a slow sip of blood from his crystal glass. "I am letting the little rabbit enjoy her freedom for a few more days," he mused. Then, turning to his commander, he added, "Warren, it has been far too long since we held a gala. Announce a royal ball for this week. Ensure Mr. Oscar Saipon receives a personal invitation for his entire family. Since he now works for the crown, it would be a pity if he were absent, wouldn't it?"
Warren understood immediately; the King's interest in the Saipon family was far from professional. Liam's reputation for debauchery was well-known, yet it was of a strange, dark variety—he refused to keep concubines, preferring to discard, or rather execute, those who shared his bed.
"It shall be done, My Lord," Warren replied. After breakfast, Rory departed for the Imperial Council to handle the legal paperwork of the treason case, while Warren set out to organize the upcoming festivities.
At the Saipon mansion, Floria was sorting through the registers in the library when she discovered an old diary. As she flipped through the aged pages, her eyes fell upon a letter:
'Dear Floria,
This is your mother, Alice. I hope this letter finds you well. If you are reading this, it means I have long since departed, but I find peace knowing I have left you in Lily's care. My dear, you were the most important thing in my life. I do not regret a single moment—from meeting Lily to settling down with your father—it was all worth it. Never abandon who you are. What you are is a gift to be cherished. There will be times when you feel hatred or despair, but looking toward the light is all that is required. Live your life well, for my sake.
Your loving mother, Alice.'
Tears blurred Floria's vision. She realized then that her mother had likely known everything—the soul mark, the pain, and the destiny that awaited her. For years, Floria had carried a heavy burden of shame. She still saw the face of William, the cheerful human man she had once hoped to marry. She had cared for him, but in a moment of desperation during a spreading magical poison, she had inadvertently caused his death. The guilt of killing an innocent man had made her vow never to seek another engagement.
Wiping her eyes, she closed the diary and donned a dark green gown, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she headed to the public library.
Inside the library, Ivan stood behind the counter, though his gaze constantly drifted toward the entrance. He was rehearsing how to ask Floria out. He knew the shadow William's death cast over her heart, but he knew he had to act before the Vampire King made his move.
"Welcome, and a very good morning, Miss Wells," Ivan said politely to a vampiress who had approached him.
"A very good morning, Mr. Westwood," she replied coyly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I've come to return this. You truly have impeccable taste in literature."
"You flatter me," he replied. He heard the door open and his posture shifted. "Good morning, Miss Floria."
As Floria stepped inside, the vampiress turned to greet her. "Good morning, Miss Wells. A pleasure to see you," Floria said, though her smile was tight. She could sense the woman's predatory intent. Does she really think she can claim Ivan? Floria thought with a spark of uncharacteristic possessiveness. She should know better than to think he would choose her.
"Ivan, why don't you show the lady more books since she admires your taste so much?" Floria suggested, her smile widening.
Ivan caught the challenge in her eyes. "I would be happy to," he said, deciding to play along to provoke her. As they moved through the stacks, he purposely chose a shelf right next to where Floria was working.
"Tell me, Mr. Westwood, do you enjoy parties and balls?" the vampiress asked.
"Why do you ask, Milady?"
"I rarely see you at such events. I wondered if you preferred quiet places."
"Not necessarily," Ivan replied. "As a sculptor, I find crowds to be an excellent source of inspiration."
The vampiress took a deep breath. "Then, would you perhaps like to be my date for the royal ball this week?"
Ivan's playful smile vanished. Floria stopped what she was doing, her ears perked for his answer.
"Forgive me, Milady, but as you can see, I am already occupied with Miss Floria for the evening of the ball. I hope you don't mind."
Floria's jaw nearly dropped. He was dragging her into a ball she hadn't even planned on attending! The vampiress's expression soured. "Oh... I see. Perhaps another time then?"
"Certainly," Ivan replied smoothly, handing her a book. Once she had departed, Ivan marched over to Floria.
Before she could speak, he snatched the book from her hands. "You dare to try and pawn me off on a vampiress?"
"And you dare to commit me to a ball without asking?" she countered. "You know I have no interest in such things."
Ivan's gaze turned serious, losing its usual playfulness. "Flor, I know you aren't ready to move on. But you shouldn't hide from life. As a gentleman, I am asking you: be my date for this ball. Just give it a chance. If you still hate the idea afterward, I will never mention it again."
Floria hesitated. She had no future with any other creature, so why not? "I don't want to disappoint you, Ivan. You're right—I shouldn't hide. It's a deal. Just for the ball."
Ivan's face lit up with a triumphant grin. "Let's go."
"Where?"
"You'll see. Saleen, the library is yours for the afternoon!" he called out to his assistant.
As they settled into the carriage, Floria felt a strange hollowness in her chest. Ivan had always been kind, but her heart still felt like a void. She couldn't stop thinking about the mysterious man she had met. Who was he? Was he still alive? What had happened in her past life?
"Ivan, where are we going?" she asked, trying to quiet her mind.
"To Begies, to the mansion. I have something special to show you."
Floria nodded and looked out the window. Years ago, she and her father had helped a group of Elves, and in return, they had been gifted the estate in Begies, now famous for the Elves' exquisite carvings. Being around them always made her feel at peace; they reminded her of her mother.
"Jace, will everything be alright?" Lillian asked softly.
They sat in the carriage after a long morning of studies, heading toward the Imperial Council. Jace sat opposite her, one leg crossed over the other, idly twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. In a separate carriage ahead of them, Mr. Oscar Saipon traveled with Mr. Jason, a vampire merchant who managed the raw materials for the family business.
"What do you mean?" Jace asked.
"I mean... witches entering the Council. Especially now, with all the rumors of ambushes against our kind."
Jace sighed and gently pulled her closer. Lillian sat with a modest distance between them, looking at him with an innocent urgency that made him want to shield her from the world entirely. "Sweetheart, do you really think the Council is devoid of witches?"
Her eyebrows knitted together. "There are witches there?"
He chuckled, taking her hand in his. "There are. And the Council knows it. The secret is that everyone, regardless of their caste, must watch their own back. As long as you don't disclose what you are, no one can charge you without evidence. Just ensure you don't use any spells while we are inside, alright?"
Lillian nodded obediently. Her mother had kept her sheltered for so long that the inner workings of royal politics were a mystery to her.
"Lillian, there is much you need to learn," Jace added, his expression turning uncharacteristically grave. "The people out there... you must never trust them."
"I understand," she whispered.
To lighten the heavy mood, Jace smiled. "Have you ever seen the Wonderland fair?" Her eyes sparkled as she shook her head, and Jace gave her an enchanting smile, patting her head affectionately.
The carriage halted before a massive, white-painted edifice. It was a sprawling complex of floors and quarters, large enough to swallow a first-time visitor whole. The air was filled with the rhythmic clip-clop of horses and the bustling energy of the capital.
Lillian and Jace followed Mr. Oscar and Jason until they reached the "Trade Records" wing. From there, the pair climbed another flight of stairs to the "Land Registry" office. The hallway was a cacophony of chatter as people moved back and forth in a frantic dance of bureaucracy.
Jace glanced back at Lillian. He knew she was rarely exposed to crowds and could see the subtle way she recoiled from the noise. Before she could drift away, he grasped her hand firmly.
"Hold on tight, Lillian," he urged. She stared at him, momentarily dazed by the contact. "I... I'm sorry, I was just—"
"Shh. It's fine," he whispered with a wink. "I've got you, sweetheart."
They approached a desk manned by a short, stout man with a belly like a bloated balloon. "Mr. Hall," Jace greeted him smoothly. "What a pleasant day."
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Saipon," the man replied.
"This is my fiancée, Lady Cameal," Jace said, his voice steady. "We are here to transfer a house registration into her name, according to the terms of the will."
Lillian's heart skipped a beat. Even though she knew it was a cover story for her protection, she couldn't help the blush that crept up her neck. She and Mr. Hall exchanged polite bows before he led them into a quieter side room.
"Miss, may I ask whose name is currently on the land documents?" Mr. Hall asked.
Lillian looked at Jace. He gave a small, encouraging blink. "My mother, Clarabelle Cameal," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "She has been... missing for three weeks now."
"My deepest condolences," Hall said. "Have you registered a formal complaint?"
Seeing Lillian struggle with the lump in her throat, Jace took over. "We did, three days after she failed to return."
The man nodded and handed over several documents. "Please fill these out so we can begin the process." Lillian meticulously recorded her name, background, and their residency in Ironvale.
"Thank you, Miss Cameal, Mr. Saipon. Please return in one week for the finalization."
As they stepped back into the main hall, a cry went up: "Long live the Second Prince!"
The crowd surged toward the walls to make a path. As they stood at the front of the line, Lillian felt a pair of piercing, hazel-green eyes fixed upon her. Panic flared—did he know she was a witch? Cold sweat broke out on her forehead until she felt Jace's hand on her shoulder, grounded and protective.
Prince Rory, dressed in rich velvet with a mantle that trailed elegantly behind him, scanned the crowd. He was here to personally collect records for the Minister Lee case. His eyes lingered on Lillian. Something about her—her eyes, the way she carried herself—reminded him of someone. He noticed the icy-blue-eyed youth beside her, Jace Saipon, whom he had met through business. Jace's hand on the girl's shoulder was a clear territorial mark.
Rory moved toward the desk as the crowd dispersed. As he approached, a discarded paper caught his eye. It wasn't the content that intrigued him, but the handwriting. It was Spencerian calligraphy—a skill taught almost exclusively to royalty, with specific flourishes, like the highlighted þ, unique to certain dynasties.
"Mr. Hall," Rory said, his voice smooth as silk. "Who was that lady, and what was her business here?"
The clerk bowed so low his stomach nearly touched his knees. "My Lord, she was here to transfer land registry. Her mother has been missing for some time."
"I see," Rory murmured. His eyes darkened with sudden intensity. "Get me all the records under Minister Lee's name, including any transfers made in the last month. I want them in half an hour."
"Right away, My Lord! Please, take a seat—"
"No," Rory smiled, a look that didn't reach his eyes. "I'll be back." With a blur of supernatural speed, he vanished.
Meanwhile, Jace had led Lillian to the "Wonderland" fair.
"Jace, look! The Wheel of Fortune! Please, can we play?" Lillian was jumping with excitement, her earlier fear forgotten.
"Alright, alright," he grinned. After losing two rounds, they finally won a small, wooden carving of a couple.
"We won, Jace! We won!" she cried, hugging him tightly.
Jace's smile broadened. Seeing her eyes shine with such innocent joy made every risk worth it. She was like a child in many ways, and she was all his to protect. After eating and playing until the sun began to dip, they returned to the carriage.
"Lillian, get inside. I'll be right back," Jace said, kissing her forehead. He felt her grip his sleeve momentarily. "Be good."
He locked the carriage door and turned to the coachman, Sam. "Sam, do not let her out. Stay with her. If even a single hair on her head is harmed, I will take you apart with my bare hands."
The lean man bowed, terrified by Jace's sudden coldness. "Yes, sire."
Jace slipped into a nearby alleyway. He had sensed them since they left the Council—vultures catching a scent. A group of vampires with masked faces stepped out from the shadows.
"What's a brat doing here, Mark?" one sneered. "Let's gut the kid first, then we can take the little witch—"
The vampire's words ended in a gargle as all of them were suddenly forced to their knees by an invisible pressure.
"You pieces of filth," Jace said, his voice dropping to a murderous, cold register. "You aren't even worth the effort of lifting my hand."
"Galid, that's no human!" one screamed. "Kill h—"
The vampire collapsed, dead before he hit the ground. The others panicked. How could a mere human do this?
"What nasty creatures," Jace mused. "I think my ears would bleed if I had to hear another word from you. I'll be merciful and give you a quick end."
In seconds, four of the five vampires were dead. Jace grabbed the last one, Mark, by the hair, forcing him to look into his dark, raging eyes. "Why are you here? Who sent you for her?"
"We were told... bring the witch alive... with the box..." Mark stammered, his eyes glazed.
"Who told you?"
Before the vampire could answer, he began to cough up thick, black blood and white foam. "Poison," Jace hissed, dropping the body.
He sprinted back to the carriage. He found the coachman cowering and the carriage door wide open. "Lillian! Fuck! Sam, where is she?"
The coachman pointed a trembling finger toward the clearing. There stood Prince Rory, holding a bloody crystal sword.
"Jace!" Lillian cried. She ran from behind the Prince toward Jace, her arm bleeding. Jace caught her in a fierce embrace.
"I told you to stay in the carriage! Why do you never listen?" he barked, though he pulled her into his chest with shaking hands. "You scared me, Lilli."
Rory laughed, wiping his blade. "Such bunnies should be kept in cages, Mr. Saipon, or someone might eat them up."
"A very good afternoon to you, Prince Rory," Jace said, giving a stiff bow while keeping Lillian shielded behind him. "Thank you for the assistance, but my fiancée will soon be able to protect herself."
"You seem very confident," Rory noted, his eyes drifting to a raven perched nearby. "Though I see the lady has a pet tagging along."
A raven? Damn it, had it not flown away? "The lady loves animals," Jace countered quickly. "She has her own stable."
Rory's smile turned mischievous. A woman with royal handwriting running a stable? The young Saipon was clever, but the lies were becoming transparent. "Indeed, women do love their pets. You may go."
As they turned to leave, Rory called out, "The barrier was quite impressive, by the way. But your 'bunny' has long legs; she found her way out anyway."
Jace had placed a powerful witchcraft barrier around the carriage, but Lillian's desperation had apparently breached it. He practically shoved her into the carriage and slammed the door.
"Jace, I... I'm sorry," Lillian whimpered.
He didn't answer. He cornered her against the carriage wall, his playful persona completely gone, replaced by a look of sheer, dangerous fury.
"What were you thinking?" he hissed. "I told you to stay put. Is it so hard to follow one simple instruction?"
"I... I thought I heard you calling me," she sobbed. "They wanted to kill me, Jace." She looked at the blood on his shirt and began to tremble.
Jace punched the wall beside her head, making her flinch and close her eyes in terror. Seeing her fear, his rage instantly curdled into guilt. "Lillian... look at me. I would never hurt you. Never. Trust me. You don't have to fear anyone, least of all me."
"I do trust you," she whispered, looking exhausted.
"Come here." He patted his lap. When she hesitated, he gently pulled her onto him. "Jace?"
"Hush," he said, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. "Did the Prince save you?" He carefully rolled up her sleeve to inspect the wound on her arm. His jaw tightened—the blood was turning black. Those bastards actually touched her.
"He did. I went out because I heard your voice, but you weren't there. Where did you go, Jace?"
He looked into her doe-like eyes. He couldn't tell her he had been busy slaughtering a pack of vampires. "I went to get you these," he lied softly, pulling out a pair of beautiful, bluish translucent gloves.
"They're gorgeous," she breathed, touching the delicate fabric.
Jace continued to pamper her, cleaning the wound and speaking softly until the adrenaline faded and she fell asleep against his chest. He looked down at her, his expression a mix of adoration and grim resolve.
You always scare me, my little squirrel. You are the one thing in this world I cannot afford to lose.