'He says he won't prioritise me,' Seraphina thought, a small, knowing spark igniting in her chest. 'But he sat here and fed me soup with a spoon. He is a liar. A big, scary, and emotionally constipated liar!'
The most dangerous place in the world was right next to Duke Kaelus von Nacht. But because of who he was, it was also the absolute safest place in existence. It was the eye of the hurricane.
Seraphina pulled the cape tighter, letting it swallow her up to her chin.
"No," she said. Her childish voice was soft, but it held not a single tremor of hesitation.
Kaelus's eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch. "No?"
"I don't want to go to the boring monks," Seraphina said, shaking her head. "They probably eat boiled cabbage. And their clothes are scratchy."
Kaelus stared at her. "Did you comprehend anything I just told you? There will be assassins out there trying to kill you, and there will be poison mixed in your food."
"I know," Seraphina nodded solemnly. "But the Duke, you said you would protect me. You have a big sword; even the floaty people are scared of you."
She shimmied forward, crawling to the edge of the mattress until she was mere inches from him.
She reached out from beneath the cape and placed her tiny, warm hand on top of his massive, leather-clad knee.
"I want to stay with you, Duke," she declared, looking straight into his eyes. "I will be Seraphina von Nacht. I will be a good bait. I won't cry when it's loud. Just... don't leave me in the dark again."
Kaelus looked down at the small hand resting on his knee. The sheer audacity of her choice stunned him.
She wasn't staying out of ignorance; she was staying despite the truth. She had calculated the risks of standing beside the Reaper and decided it was better than standing alone.
The wriggling sensation in his chest flared up, hot and undeniable.
"You are a very strange child," Kaelus murmured, his voice rough with an emotion he refused to name.
"I'm a mushroom," she reminded him with a sleepy smile.
A slow, terrifyingly beautiful smirk ghosted across Kaelus's lips. It was a rare expression, one that usually spelt doom for an enemy army.
But right now, it was directed solely at her, a silent acknowledgement of her absolute brazenness.
"Very well," Kaelus said, standing up. "If you are to bear the name, mere words are insufficient. The Imperial Court does not respect verbal agreements. They respect power and blood."
He reached to his hip and unsheathed a small, ornate silver dagger. The blade was etched with ancient, jagged runes that seemed to drink the meagre light in the room.
Seraphina's eyes widened slightly, but she didn't pull back.
"Give me your hand," Kaelus ordered.
She extended her small right hand. Kaelus took it gently in his large, calloused grip. With practised, surgical precision, he pressed the tip of the silver dagger against the pad of her index finger.
Prick.
Seraphina winced softly, but she didn't pull away. A single, perfectly round bead of crimson blood welled up on her skin.
Kaelus then turned the blade on himself. Without blinking, he sliced the pad of his own thumb.
"The blood of the North is iron and ice," Kaelus chanted softly, his voice resonating with an ancient, heavy cadence that made the air in the room vibrate. "It does not break. It does not yield. What is mine is shielded by the Bastion. Who strikes my blood, strikes the wrath of the Winter."
He pressed his bleeding thumb directly against her bleeding finger.
The moment their blood mixed, a blinding flash of silver-blue light erupted from their joined hands.
Seraphina gasped as a rush of heat surged up her arm. It didn't hurt; it felt like a warm, heavy blanket wrapping around her soul.
In the air above their hands, the blood didn't drip. It defied gravity, twisting and weaving into a complex, glowing geometric pattern. It was the crest of the House of Nacht, a dire wolf howling beneath a shattered moon.
The glowing crest hovered for a second, then abruptly shot downward, sinking directly into the skin of Seraphina's wrist.
It left behind a faint, silver, tattoo-like mark that shimmered for a moment before fading completely into her pale flesh.
"It is done," Kaelus said, releasing her hand and wiping his own thumb with a handkerchief. The cut on his skin was already closing, courtesy of his monstrous healing factor.
Seraphina rubbed her wrist, her eyes wide with awe. "What did that do?"
"It is a Blood Ward," Kaelus explained, sheathing the dagger. "It legally and magically binds you to my lineage. If anyone tries to place a curse on you, it will rebound onto me, and I will destroy it. If anyone tries to verify your identity with Church magic, it will read as the true blood of the Archduke. You are now, officially and irreversibly, my daughter."
He paused, looking down at her. "There is no turning back now, Seraphina."
"Okay," she said simply, yawning widely. The adrenaline of the conversation, combined with the heavy meal and the magical ritual, had finally drained the last reserves of her energy.
Kaelus watched her eyes droop. He stepped forward and gently pushed her backwards onto the pillows.
He lifted his heavy cape, adjusting it so it covered her completely, leaving only her face exposed. He then pulled the duvet up over the cape, ensuring no draft could reach her.
He was tucking her in. The Reaper of the North was tucking a child into bed.
If Sir Lucas or Sir Gallahan saw this, they would likely drop dead from the shock.
"Sleep," Kaelus commanded softly.
"You're not leaving?" Seraphina asked, her voice slurring, her eyelids fighting a losing battle against gravity. "The floaty people..."
"I am not leaving," Kaelus assured her. He stepped back from the bed and walked over to the heavy writing table near the window.