The great hall buzzes with the low hum of evening conversation, nobles gathered around tables laden with silver and crystal. Tonight's feast is in honor of Lady Seraphina's visit, though the honor feels more like a curse settling over the castle like winter fog.
I kneel beside Kael's chair as usual, the absence of my collar still strange against my throat. Without its familiar weight, I feel exposed, vulnerable in ways I'm only beginning to understand. The nobles' eyes linger on my bare neck with curiosity and calculation - some disappointed that I've apparently earned favor, others intrigued by what this change might mean.
"Such a lovely evening," Seraphina purrs from her place of honor at Kael's right. She's magnificent in deep purple silk, jewels catching the candlelight like captured stars. "And such... interesting company."
Her gaze flicks to me meaningfully, and I keep my expression neutral despite the ice forming in my veins.
"Indeed," Queen Elenora agrees from the head of the table. "Though I confess surprise at certain recent... developments."
The words carry weight, and I catch the meaningful glances exchanged between the royal women. They're discussing me as if I'm not here, as if I'm furniture that's been rearranged in a way that displeases them.
"Some changes are temporary," Seraphina says smoothly, lifting her wine goblet. "Others... require correction."
*****
The feast continues with course after course of elaborate dishes. Roasted meats glazed with honey, vegetables that glisten with butter, breads so fresh they steam when broken. The wine flows like blood in crystal goblets, and conversation weaves between politics and pleasantries with the practiced ease of those born to power.
I remain kneeling, accepting the occasional morsel from Kael's fingers when he remembers I exist. But tonight feels different - charged with an undercurrent of tension that makes even the servants move more carefully.
"More wine, Your Highness?" A young serving girl approaches Kael's chair, decanter gleaming in her trembling hands.
"Please," Kael says, pushing his goblet forward. But his attention is on Lord Blackthorne's commentary about trade disputes, and he doesn't notice the girl's nervous fumbling.
"Allow me," Seraphina interjects smoothly, rising from her chair with fluid grace. "I insist on serving our host personally."
She takes the decanter from the startled servant, dismissing her with a wave. "Such lovely crystal," she murmurs, examining the goblet. "A family heirloom, I'm sure."
"My grandmother's," Queen Elenora confirms. "Passed down through generations of Drakmoor queens."
"How... fitting." Seraphina's smile is radiant as she pours wine into the goblet. Dark liquid catches the candlelight, swirling like liquid rubies. "I do hope I'll have the honor of using such beautiful pieces myself someday."
The implication hangs in the air like incense. She sets the goblet on the table beside Kael's plate, but as she does, her elbow brushes against the crystal accidentally. The goblet teeters, wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
"Oh!" she gasps, reaching to steady it. But the movement is too sharp, too sudden. The goblet tips, and wine pours across the table in a dark flood.
Directly toward me.
*****
The wine hits me like liquid fire.
It soaks through my dress, burns against my skin, and immediately I know something is wrong. A strange heat blooms across my chest. I blink, once, twice - why is the room tilting? This isn't the clean burn of alcohol - this is something else, something that makes my vision blur and my throat close.
"How clumsy of me," Seraphina says, her voice pitched to carry across the suddenly silent hall. "I'm so sorry, dear. Here, let me help clean that up."
She reaches for a napkin, but I'm already falling. The world tilts sideways, colors bleeding together like watercolors in rain. My knees hit the stone floor, hands scrabbling for purchase on nothing.
"Pet?" Kael's voice seems to come from very far away. "What's wrong?"
I try to answer, but my throat has closed completely. Can't breathe. Can't speak. The hall spins around me like a child's top, faces blurring into indistinct shapes.
"Perhaps she's simply overwhelmed," I hear Seraphina suggest. "The excitement of such a grand feast, the honor of serving at the high table..."
But Kael is already moving. Strong hands lift me from the floor, and through my failing vision I see his face - not the cold mask he wears in public, but something raw and desperate and afraid.
"Everyone out," he commands. "Now."
"Kael, surely that's not necessary-" the Queen begins.
"I said everyone out!" His voice carries the authority of a prince and the desperation of a man watching something precious slip away. "Guards, clear the hall. Immediately."
The last thing I remember is being lifted in his arms, carried from the hall while my body burns with whatever poison Seraphina has given me. Her "accident" was anything but, and we both know it.
*****
Consciousness returns in fragments.
Cool cloth against my forehead. The scent of herbs and something medicinal. Gentle hands checking my pulse, my breathing, the dilation of my pupils.
"Will she live?" The voice is Kael's, but strained beyond recognition.
"The poison is weakening," comes the reply - an older woman's voice, probably the castle's healer. "But it was a near thing. Another few minutes and..."
"But she'll recover?"
"With proper care. The fever will break soon."
I try to open my eyes, but they feel weighted with lead. My body burns with fever, every muscle aching like I've been beaten. But gradually, awareness returns.
I'm in Kael's chambers, lying on his bed instead of my usual furs. The massive four-poster that I've never been allowed to touch now cradles me like something precious.
"Leave us," Kael says to the healer. "I'll watch over her."
"Your Highness, I really should-"
"I said leave us."
Footsteps retreat. A door closes. And then it's just us in the flickering candlelight.
"Stupid girl," he whispers, but his voice breaks on the words. "Stupid, reckless girl."
Cool cloth touches my forehead again, and I realize his hands are shaking. The fearsome vampire prince who destroyed his own brother over a cup of water is trembling as he tends to me.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he continues, voice barely audible. "The moment you felt the poison, why didn't you..."
But I couldn't have told him. Could barely breathe, let alone speak. And by the time I realized what was happening, it was too late.
"I should have seen it coming," he says, cloth moving to cool my fevered cheeks. "Should have known she would try something like this. Should have protected you."
His touch is impossibly gentle - not the commanding possession I'm used to, but something reverent. Like I'm made of spun glass and might shatter at any moment.
"Don't leave me," he whispers, and the words are torn from somewhere deep in his chest. "Please. Don't leave me."
*****
I drift in and out of consciousness for hours, maybe days. Time loses meaning when fever burns through your veins like liquid fire. But through it all, he's there.
Cool hands checking my temperature. Fresh cloths to combat the fever. Water dripped between my lips when I can't hold my head up to drink. His voice, reading to me from books I can't focus on, just the sound of his words weaving through the darkness.
*****
When I finally wake fully, golden sunlight streams through the tall windows. My fever has broken, leaving me weak but clear-headed for the first time in... how long?
Kael sits in a chair beside the bed, fully dressed but disheveled. His hair is mussed, his shirt wrinkled, and there are dark circles under his eyes that speak of sleepless nights.
"How long?" I whisper, voice raspy from disuse.
"Three days," he says, leaning forward. "You've been unconscious for three days."
"The poison..."
"Is gone. The healer confirmed it this morning." His eyes search my face, looking for signs of lingering weakness. "How do you feel?"
"Like I've been trampled by horses. But alive."
"Alive is good." Relief floods his features. "Alive is... everything."
I try to sit up, but my body protests. Strong hands immediately steady me, helping me prop myself against the pillows.
"Easy," he murmurs. "You're still weak."
"You took care of me." It's not a question. Through the fever haze, I remember his hands, his voice, his constant presence.
"Someone had to."
"The servants could have-"
"No." The word comes out sharp, definitive. "No one else touches you. No one else tends you. You're mine to care for."
The possessiveness in his voice should frighten me. Instead, it sends warmth through my chest that has nothing to do with fever.
"Seraphina?" I ask.
"Claims it was an accident. Apologized profusely for her clumsiness." His smile is sharp as a blade. "She's been most concerned about your recovery."
"I'm sure she has."
"The wine was meant for me," he says quietly. "The goblet was mine. You only got hit because of the spill."
"Are you certain?"
"No." His fingers trace along the coverlet, not quite touching me. "But it's easier to believe than the alternative."
"Which is?"
"That she tried to kill you specifically. That she sees you as enough of a threat to risk poisoning you in front of the entire court."
The words hang between us, heavy with implication. If Seraphina tried to kill me, it means she sees me as more than just a pet. It means she recognizes something in me that even I don't understand.
"Thank you," I say softly. "For saving me."
"Don't." He stands abruptly, moving to the window. "Don't thank me for doing what I should have done in the first place."
"What do you mean?"
"I should have protected you. Should have seen the danger. Should have known that bringing you into the great hall would make you a target."
"You couldn't have known-"
"I should have known!" He spins to face me, and I see the guilt eating at him. "You're mine. My responsibility. My... my everything. And I nearly lost you because I was too blind to see what was right in front of me."
The confession hangs in the air like smoke. *My everything.* The words should terrify me. Instead, they make something shatter softly inside me - not breaking, but opening. Like a door I didn't know was there.
"I'm not going anywhere," I tell him.
"You can't promise that."
"I can promise to try."
He's quiet for a long moment, staring out at the courtyard where normal life continues. Servants go about their duties, guards patrol the walls, and the world spins on as if nothing has changed.
But everything has changed. In three days of fever and fear, something has shifted between us. Something that makes the air crackle with possibility and danger in equal measure.
"She'll try again," I say.
"I know."
"And next time, she might succeed."
"Over my dead body."
The words are spoken quietly, but they carry the weight of a vow. A promise that he'll destroy anyone who tries to harm me, even if it means destroying himself in the process.
"Get some rest," he says finally. "You're still weak."
"Where will you sleep?"
"Here." He gestures to the chair beside the bed. "Where I can watch over you."
"The bed is large enough for two."
The suggestion hangs between us, dangerous and tempting. For a moment, I see want war with propriety in his dark eyes.
"Sleep," he says again, but his voice lacks conviction. "We'll discuss sleeping arrangements when you're stronger."
As I drift off to sleep in his bed, surrounded by his scent and the lingering warmth of his care, I feel something settling in my chest. Not love - not yet. But something deeper than fear. Stronger than gratitude. Something like... belonging.
And in the chair beside me, Kael keeps watch through another night, his eyes never leaving my face as I sleep peacefully for the first time since arriving at his castle.