Seraphina's POV
I woke up to someone holding my hand.
My eyes flew open. The ceiling above me was unfamiliar—dark wood with silver patterns. Not my chambers. Where—
"You're awake." The voice was male, old, and relieved.
I turned my head. An elderly vampire sat beside the bed, his weathered face kind despite the glowing eyes. He wasn't holding my hand—he was checking my pulse, his fingers cold against my wrist.
"Who are you?" My voice came out scratchy.
"Dr. Theron. Royal physician." He released my wrist and pulled out a small light, shining it in my eyes. "How do you feel?"
"Like I got hit by a carriage." I tried to sit up but he gently pushed me back down.
"You had a seizure. Quite severe. You've been unconscious for six hours."
Six hours. I looked around the room—this wasn't my chambers. It was smaller, simpler. A medical room.
Then I remembered.
The seizure. Falling. And Lucien—
"The prince," I said quickly. "He was there. He came into my room when I fell—"
"Yes." Something flickered across Dr. Theron's face. "He carried you here himself. Refused to let anyone else touch you."
My heart stuttered. "Where is he now?"
"Gone. He left the moment I arrived." Dr. Theron's ancient eyes studied me carefully. "But not before demanding I save you. Quite forcefully, I might add."
I didn't know what to do with that information. The prince who hated me, who couldn't stand to look at me, had carried me to safety?
"You're gravely ill," Dr. Theron said, pulling my attention back. "This wasn't a normal seizure. There's something very wrong inside your body."
Here it was. The truth I'd have to tell.
"I'm dying," I said flatly. "Brain tumor. Glioblastoma, stage four, inoperable. I have less than a month left. Maybe three weeks now."
Dr. Theron's eyes widened. In all his ancient years, I'd clearly surprised him.
"Does Prince Lucien know?"
"Why would he care?" Bitterness crept into my voice. "He won't even look at me. I'm just a painful reminder of someone who's already dead."
"You're wrong about that." Dr. Theron stood and walked to a cabinet, pulling out vials and instruments. "The way he looked at you when he brought you here... that wasn't indifference."
"What was it then?"
"Terror."
The word hung in the air between us.
Dr. Theron returned with a silver needle. "I need to take a blood sample. Your blood smells... different. Sweet but fading. Like death approaching, but mixed with something else I can't identify."
I held out my arm. The needle pinched but I barely felt it. I was used to needles by now.
As my dark red blood filled the vial, Dr. Theron's expression grew more troubled.
"Fascinating," he murmured. "And deeply concerning."
"What is?"
"Your blood shouldn't smell sweet to vampires. Human blood is either appetizing or neutral. Sweet usually means corruption or magic." He held the vial up to the light. "I need to study this. Whatever is happening inside you—it's not just the tumor."
A chill ran down my spine. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know yet. But I will find out." He labeled the vial carefully. "In the meantime, you need rest. No excitement, no stress—"
"I'm in a vampire palace bound to a prince who hates me," I interrupted. "How exactly am I supposed to avoid stress?"
Dr. Theron's lips twitched in what might have been a smile. "Fair point. At least try to avoid having any more seizures. They're hard on your body."
"I'll do my best."
He helped me back to my chambers. Elena was waiting there, pacing frantically.
"Oh thank the stars!" She rushed over, taking my other arm. "I found you on the floor and screamed. Then the prince—" She stopped abruptly.
"Then the prince what?" I asked.
Elena and Dr. Theron exchanged a look.
"Nothing," Elena said too quickly. "Rest now. I'll bring you food."
They left me alone in my chambers, with more questions than answers.
Three days passed.
Three days of crushing boredom and loneliness.
I explored the palace during those days—or at least the parts I was allowed to enter. Endless hallways of black marble and silver torches. Libraries with books in languages I couldn't read. A ballroom so large my footsteps echoed for seconds.
And everywhere, those crimson roses. Their scent followed me, sweet and cloying.
Elena checked on me daily, bringing food I barely touched. The headaches made eating difficult.
Twice a day, I attended formal dinners in the great hall. It was apparently required for the "prince's bride." I sat at a long table surrounded by vampire nobles who stared at me like I was a strange insect.
They whispered behind their hands.
"She looks so much like Arianne."
"Poor thing doesn't know what she's gotten into."
"The prince hasn't visited her once. He must truly despise her."
I kept my head high and pretended their words didn't cut.
But Lucien never appeared. Not at dinners. Not in the hallways. Not anywhere.
It was like he'd vanished.
The blood bond between us stayed locked tight. I could feel it there in my chest—a connection to him that he refused to open. Sometimes, late at night, I'd press my hand over my heart and try to reach through it.
Nothing. Just cold walls.
By the fourth night, I couldn't take it anymore.
I needed air. Space. Something other than these suffocating palace walls and pitying stares.
I slipped out of my chambers after midnight, wearing a simple dress Elena had left me. The palace was quiet—most vampires were out hunting or attending to whatever immortals did at night.
I walked without direction, letting my feet carry me through hallways I hadn't explored yet. Down a corridor lined with covered paintings. Through a doorway that opened onto a stone path.
And suddenly I was outside.
A garden stretched before me, wild and overgrown. The crimson roses here were different—darker, bigger, their thorns like black claws. They grew over everything, choking out other plants, claiming the space as their own.
It felt abandoned. Forgotten.
The moon hung huge and bright overhead, casting silver light across everything. In the distance, I could see the rest of the palace—lit and alive. But this section was dark.
I walked deeper into the garden, drawn by something I couldn't name. The roses' scent was overwhelming here, so strong it made me dizzy. Or maybe that was the tumor.
I found a marble bench hidden among the roses. It was cracked and weathered, covered in vines. But carved into the stone were words:
"Here, where we first kissed, I promise to love you until the stars die."
My breath caught.
This was their place. Lucien and Arianne's secret garden.
And I'd just walked into it.
"What are you doing here?"
The voice came from the shadows—low, dangerous, and achingly familiar.
I spun around.
Lucien stood at the garden entrance, and for the first time since the bonding ceremony, his mask was completely gone.
He looked devastated.
"I didn't know this area was forbidden," I said quickly, my heart pounding. "I'll leave—"
"No."
He stepped into the moonlight, and I forgot how to breathe.
He wasn't wearing his royal clothes. Just a simple black shirt that showed the lines of his throat, his collarbones. His white-blond hair was loose, falling past his shoulders. His silver eyes glowed brighter than the moon.
And he was looking at me like I was killing him just by existing.
"Stay," he said, his voice rough. "I need to understand what cruel trick you are."
He walked toward me, each step deliberate. Predatory.
"What magic makes you wear her face?" He stopped right in front of me, close enough that I could feel the cold radiating from his body. "What spell did you cast to look exactly like the woman I loved?"
"I didn't cast anything," I whispered. "I don't even know who I look like—I never saw her alive."
"Liar."
His hand shot out, cupping my face. His touch was ice-cold but sent heat flooding through my body. The blood bond flared to life between us—I felt his anguish crash into me like a wave.
Grief. Longing. Rage. And underneath it all, want so desperate it stole my breath.
"You're not real," Lucien whispered, his thumb tracing my cheekbone. "You can't be real."
His touch was gentle despite his words. Almost reverent.
And I realized with a jolt—he wasn't pulling away.
For the first time since we met, Lucien Nightshade was actually touching me.
And he looked like it was destroying him.