Julian's POV
I didn't go to my own chambers after I locked her door. I couldn't.
My heart—that stagnant, heavy thing that usually only beat out of habit—was thundering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I leaned my forehead against the cold stone of the corridor, my breath coming in jagged hitches. The scent of her was still everywhere. It was in my lungs, under my fingernails, and coating the back of my throat like liquid sunlight.
"What have you done, Julian?" I whispered to the empty hallway.
The violet glow of the "Soul-Claim" hadn't just been a parlor trick for Silas. Even now, through the thick oak of the door, I could feel a faint, rhythmic tugging in my chest. It was her pulse. Her fear. Her defiance. By drinking as much as I had, by letting her blood—that Slayer blood—react to my venom, I hadn't just faked a bond. I had accidentally opened a door I didn't know how to close.
"Prince Julian."
I straightened instantly, the shadows at my feet snapping to attention. My valet, Kael, stood at the end of the hall. He was older than me by two centuries, his face a mask of practiced neutrality.
"The Council has already sent a courier," Kael said, his voice low. "Silas didn't even wait to reach his own wing before he started talking. They are calling it the 'Vane Scandal.' They want a formal presentation at the Morning Feast."
"Of course they do," I snapped, pushing off the wall and smoothing my jacket. "Vultures. They can smell a change in the wind before the breeze even hits."
"They don't just smell a change, my Prince. They smell a Soul-Bind. They want to know why the future King of House Vane has linked his life to a girl who was sent to be his executioner." Kael stepped closer, his eyes searching mine. "Was it a mistake? Or a madness?"
"It was a necessity, Kael. If I hadn't claimed her, Silas would have torn her apart. And I... I am not finished with her yet."
"She is a Blood-Singer, isn't she?" Kael's voice was a mere breath.
I didn't answer. I didn't have to. The way I was shaking was answer enough.
"I need her ready by dawn," I said, pivoting back toward her door. "She needs clothes that speak of my House. She needs to look like a Queen, not a prisoner. Send the seamstresses. Tell them if they scratch her, I'll have their hands."
I unlocked the door and stepped back inside.
Sienna was standing by the vanity, her hand shoved deep into a drawer. She jumped when the door creaked, her violet eyes wide and lethal. She looked like a trapped cat, beautiful and ready to draw blood.
"You again," she spat. "Can't stay away? Did you forget to tell me another lie?"
"The lie is for them, Sienna. For us, it is a contract." I walked toward her, forcing my voice to stay steady despite the way my skin buzzed just being near her. "I've sent for clothes. You'll be presented at the Morning Feast in four hours."
"Presented? Like a prize horse?" She laughed, a bitter, jagged sound. "Julian, I'm a Hunter. I don't do 'feasts' unless I'm the one ending them. I'm not wearing your colors."
"You will wear what I tell you, or I will dress you myself," I said, my voice dropping an octave.
She flinched, but she didn't back down. "You think this 'Soul-Claim' makes you my master? It doesn't. You said it yourself—if I die, you die. Maybe I should just take a leap off that balcony right now and save the Silver Thorne the trouble of a trial."
The thought sent a cold spike of genuine terror through me. The bond—the fake one that was feeling far too real—tightened. I could almost feel the phantom sensation of falling.
"You won't," I said, stepping into her space until she was forced back against the vanity. "Because you want to know about the man in the hall. You want to know why you saw a ghost tonight."
That stopped her. Her breath hitched, and for a second, the hatred in her eyes flickered into something vulnerable. "How do you know what I saw?"
"Because when I bit you, I didn't just take your blood. I took a piece of your mind." I reached out, my fingers tracing the line of her jaw. She tried to pull away, but I caught her chin, forcing her to look at me. "I felt your shock. I felt the name Leo echo in your soul. He was your brother, wasn't he?"
"He died," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Ten years ago. In the fire."
"In this house, death is often just a transition," I murmured. "If you want the truth about what happened to your family, if you want to know if that shadow in the hall was really him... you stay by my side. you play the Queen. You give me the power I need to overturn the Council, and I will give you the keys to the Vane archives."
"You're using my dead brother to blackmail me?" Her eyes filled with tears of rage. "You really are a piece of work."
"I am giving you a reason to live, Sienna. Because right now, hate isn't enough to keep you alive in a den of monsters."
I leaned down, my lips inches from hers. I could feel the heat radiating off her skin—the human touch that I hadn't felt in centuries. It was intoxicating. It was a drug I was already addicted to.
"Four hours," I whispered. "Be ready. The price of this lie is your soul, but the reward... the reward is the truth."
I turned and walked out, my heart heavy. I didn't tell her the rest. I didn't tell her that by claiming her, I had technically engaged her in the eyes of the Sovereign Council. I didn't tell her that in our world, a Soul-Claim is a marriage that can only be dissolved by the death of both parties.
I was protecting her, yes. But I was also binding her to me in a way she would never forgive.
As I walked down the hall, I passed Silas's chambers. I could hear the sound of glass breaking inside and his manic laughter. He knew. He knew I was vulnerable now.
But as I reached my own room, a strange sensation washed over me. It was a cold, sharp feeling in the back of my neck. I stopped, scanning the shadows.
"Kael?" I called out.
Nothing. Just the wind whistling through the gothic spires of the estate.
I went into my room and closed the door, but the feeling didn't leave. It felt like I was being watched—not by a vampire, and not by a guard. It felt like a different kind of hunger.
Trust nobody.
The words weren't mine, but they echoed in my head as if they were. I looked at my own hands in the moonlight. They were stained with her violet energy.
Was I the one holding the leash, or was the Blood-Singer already pulling me toward a cliff I couldn't see?
And if Silas wasn't the one who had broken the door first... who had?