Chapter 3

I took the leather pouch.

After the first sip, the feeling of thousands of ants biting me eased a bit. With the second and third sips, I could feel my fingers again.

Caelan knelt before me, motionless.

When I finished, I tossed the pouch aside.

"Speak," I said. "You did not risk your life just to feed me the blood."

He looked up. "Your Majesty, you must leave tonight."

"Why?"

"The prince doesn't want to kill you." He pulled a withered plant from inside his cloak.

Its leaves were silver, its stem black.

"Ghostleaf." He said.

I glanced at it, but I had no idea what it was.

"It's tasteless and odorless. When ground into a powder and mixed into a vampire's food, it can cause an adult vampire to lose half their strength over three months," he said, pausing before continuing, "That stuff's been in your kitchen for three months."

I clenched my fists. "Who did this?"

"The prince gave the order. Your steward in charge of meals was replaced a month ago."

I let out a laugh.

It wasn't a happy laugh. It was a harsh, unfamiliar sound dragged up from deep in my throat.

"So these past three months," I said, "my craving for blood wasn't getting worse. I was being poisoned."

"Yes."

"So while he was making me drink poisoned blood," I continued, "he was also slipping slow-acting poison into my food."

"Yes."

"So he doesn't want me dead."

"He wants you alive," Caelan said. "Alive, locked up in his dungeon, so he can drain your blood once a week. Then he'll use you to force the vampires into signing a humiliating treaty."

I didn't say a word.

I stared at my shadow on the carpet. It looked paper-thin.

Over the past three years, I would visit his palace every seven days, and the moment I stepped inside, he would wrap a cloak around my shoulders himself.

When I left, he would see me all the way to my carriage.

I couldn't deny there was courtesy, but there might have been something more.

From day one, he had been calculating everything: figuring out exactly when I would be too weak to resist, and working out the perfect dose to mix into my blood so I would never notice a thing.

He even calculated the exact moment my heart would finally be worn down to nothing.

"Caelan," I said.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you telling me this?"

He lowered his head. "Three years ago, in the Blackpine Forest. A squad of elven riders was ambushed by monsters. You happened to pass by and killed the monsters.

"You were injured, but you still gave your cloak to the youngest knight, because he was shivering from the cold."

"That knight was you?"

"Yes."

"I don't remember."

"I do." He looked up. "Your Majesty, my life has belonged to you ever since that day."

I simply looked at him.

Candlelight danced across his face. He was so pale, his lips nearly colorless. Blood continued to seep from his back, soaking through his cloak and spreading into a small red stain on the carpet.

I reached out, gently brushing his cheek. "Does it hurt?"

"No."

"You're lying."

"A little."

I let out a laugh. This time, it was genuine.

"Caelan," I said, "once I get through this, I'll make sure the bastard who whipped you suffers every lash in return, with interest."

He didn't say a word. He rested his head lightly against my hand.

Before dawn, the door opened again.

It wasn't Lucian. It was my uncle, Valentine, the High Elder of the vampires.

He entered with six other elders, filing in one after another. All of them were wearing dark expressions.

"Isolde!" Valentine's first words came out as a shout. "Do you have any idea what you did yesterday?"

I sat in the chair by the window, remaining seated. "I know."

"You publicly humiliated the elven prince. You've destroyed our century-old alliance with the elves. You've ruined the vampires' lifeline!" Valentine's voice was thick with anger.

"Yeah."

"Yeah?" His beard bristled with fury. "That's all you can say? Without the elven king's blood, the vampires can't survive! Do you understand?"

"So before there was the elven king's blood," I looked at him, "how did the vampires survive?"