Chapter 8

Lena’s POV

"Consort," Alistair said, his voice deep and slightly rough. He did not ask me to sit, forcing me to stand.

"My Lord," I replied, maintaining the posture and tone Helen had drilled into me.

"I am told you grasp the materials you have been studying with unusual speed," Alistair observed, his tired eyes scanning my face. The intensity in his eyes was astounding. "Most nobles' daughters are ignorant. All they think of are fine dresses and glittering jewelry."

"I stayed indoors most of the time, My Lord, but I was not idle," I explained, using Lena Hale's already established solitary life as an excuse for my academic discipline. "I spent my time studying the library’s limited collection. Reading was my only occupation."

Alistair gave a slow nod. "Reading. An efficient use of time."

He then slid a dense military analysis across the desk. It detailed a strategic review of the House of Drakos on the eastern border.

"Forget the pleasantries," he commanded. "Tell me your assessment of this. Five minutes. Be direct."

My focus immediately went to the text. It detailed Drakos's significant military build-up, but I could also see that it contained its severely depleted supply wagons and food stores which one might not notice if they didn't look closely.

"The Lord of Drakos is acting from weakness, My Lord," I stated, quickly analyzing the data. "He is spending vast resources to appear strong, but he is fundamentally overextending his supply lines. He cannot sustain a prolonged conflict without collapsing his own system. His current stance is a bluff designed to exploit the perceived instability after your father’s death."

Alistair stared at me, his eyes widening slightly.

"An unconventional assessment," he murmured, leaning back slowly. "And perceptive. You see the weakness behind the strength."

He ran a hand over his face, a gesture of deep weariness. "I trust no one in this court, female. My own council is filled with spies who report to my uncle. I know there is a high chance he wants my throne. My father was a wise King. His death was a betrayal that shook the territories to their foundation."

"You believe the King’s killer is still in the palace, My Lord?" I asked, keeping my voice low.

Alistair looked at me with an intensity that pierced the dim light. "I know the killer is still here.”

He looked truly exhausted, fighting both his need for blood and the stress of ruling an unstable court. I felt the sudden desire to soothe him and offer my blood up on a platter to him.

Instead, I returned to the Consort's Wing, still reeling from the knowledge he had shared. Over the next few days, Alistair summoned me several more times. It was never for pleasure and never for blood. It was always strictly professional but I had a feeling he was just looking for excuses to see me. He would send me dense reports on everything from human trade disputes in the southern provinces to the movements of the rival House of Drakos.

I would read them and give him my thoughts on them.

In one session, he presented a petition from a human noble family claiming another family was violating the Blood Law by hoarding resources.

"What is your judgment, Consort?" Alistair asked, leaning forward, his golden eyes narrowed. He still looked tired, but the sharpness was ever present. Why was he not coming for my blood?

"The petition is a distraction, My Lord," I stated. "Both families are hoarding. The family that filed the petition is trying to use the law to eliminate competition. If you rule against the defendant, the plaintiff will simply take the defendant's resources and hoard more. The core issue is your council is not properly monitoring the human quotas."

Alistair stared at me, then gave a genuine laugh. "The system is rotten, is that what you are saying?"

"The system is being exploited by lazy managers, My Lord," I corrected. "You need to replace the council members who oversee that province, not just punish the offending family."

He finally gave a smile, the tired lines around his eyes softening slightly. "You don't fear suggesting drastic measures, Lena. Good."

I liked it whenever he used my name…my new name…but whatever. It still made my belly flutter and the praise also contributed to the warm feeling.

"My father was respected, but he was too trusting," Alistair said, pacing the study. "He saw the best in everyone. That was his downfall."

"And you trust no one," I observed quietly.

Alistair stopped and looked at me. "I trust the evidence of my own eyes, and now, I trust the calculations of your mind. I have to. The stakes are too high."

He walked over to a high, dark window and looked out at the palace grounds. He hadn't fed in over a week now which was well beyond the twice-weekly minimum he required. His movements were slightly less fluid and his temper seemed close to the surface. He was going to explode soon.

"I need to feed, Lena," he said, his voice quiet. "Since I first smelt your blood running through your veins, I haven't been able to drink another. They pale terribly in comparison. But you seem to be scared of me and I am also scared of myself."

My heart hammered. Such twisted confession. He was putting his honor above his survival. It was a big sign of respect and my brain told me that a weakened Alistair meant a weaker protector against his enemies.

"What happens if you wait much longer?" I asked.

He turns back to me, eyes darkening. "I lose control. I could go on a rampage which has happened before. Even more scary is that sometimes, I don't stop drinking until I drain the person. This is not common knowledge mind you."

He walked back to the desk, his movements sharp. He stared down at me, his hunger radiating like heat.

"I am under immense political pressure to secure my crown, Lena. Like I have told you before, Silas, my uncle, is everywhere. He acts the part of the charming, devoted uncle in public, offering 'help' to the council and playing the sympathetic ear to the nobles. But I know he seeks my downfall."

"You have no evidence," I pointed out.

"No," Alistair confirmed, leaning his hands on the desk, his posture dominating the room. "He is too careful. He never leaves a trace.”

"My Lord," I said slowly, "I understand the danger of a weakened Lord. For the stability of the Territories, and for your own protection against Silas, you must feed."

Alistair looked at me, his gaze intense. "Are you offering, Consort?"

I hesitated. The thought of him biting me made me flinch internally with…with what? What was it even going to be like? Would it be painful?

"I am not offering, My Lord," I corrected, choosing my words carefully and bravely. "I am simply stating the necessity of your optimal health. You must maintain your strength to fight your enemies. I will be ready in two days."

He straightened up, his eyes darkening as hunger flared in them.

"I have heard you," he said, dismissing me with a wave of his hand. "Go now, Consort. I have much work to do."

I left the study with my legs shaking.