Lucivar had been informed the moment they crossed the city boundary. No one needed to tell him the urgency; it was written in every hurried footstep and whispered exchange between guards. The Royal Clinic, usually quiet, was now a hive of movement.
The nurses surrounded Damien and Eryk could see the flicker of fear in their eyes. They stripped away his clothes and found something heavier to cover him with.
Eryk stood uselessly at the foot of the bed, hands clenched at his sides.
The clinic doors swung open, and Lucivar breezed in. He didn’t waste time on pleasantries. "What happened?"
Eryk straightened. "We were searching for the queen. Still no sign of her. The king was heading back to the city when he—" Eryk gestured helplessly toward the bed, "—just collapsed. No warning. One moment he was fine, the next he wasn’t breathing right."
Lucivar’s gaze flicked to Damien. "And you’re sure nothing touched him?"
"My Lord, I’ve seen him walk away from a spear through the ribs," Eryk said. "Whatever this is, it isn’t physical."
Lucivar pulled him out of the room and into the corridor. "Tell me what happened exactly before he collapsed."
"Well..." he began, "he... held his head, like he was fighting something inside his skull. Then he looked up at me and—uh—when he opened his eyes, they were completely red. Not just tinted. Red. Like molten blood."
A muscle in Lucivar’s jaw twitched. That single detail told him everything and nothing all at once. His sigh was heavy. "Get him out of here," he said at last, "and back to his castle. Get all these people away from him. Now."
"My Lord, I don’t mean to be rude—Goddess forbid—but the king needs medical attention. He’s barely breathing. I’m pretty sure if we—"
"Eryk..." Lucivar cut him off, stepping closer. "No one can know what is going on with the king. No one. I repeat...no one. I am going to find someone who I believe can help. Now, do as I say. And do not leave his side."
Eryk wanted to argue again, to insist that secrecy was the worst possible move, but the look in Lucivar’s eyes... It was a promise that disobedience would not end well.
Lucivar turned sharply and strode out of the clinic.
Eryk exhaled through his teeth, muttering under his breath. Still, his feet moved quickly. Orders were orders.
He entered the king’s ward. Damien still lay pale against the sheets, a warrior brought low. His bare chest rose in shallow breaths.
"Stand down, everyone!"
The medical team froze mid-motion. One doctor, a young vampire frowned at him. "Sir? He’s in critical condition—"
"By orders of the king’s father," Eryk interrupted, "stand down." He didn’t miss the ripple of unease that spread through them. Royal bloodline commands were not to be ignored—not if you valued your life.
He signaled to two of the elite guards stationed outside the door. "Clear the clinic. Get him back to the castle. Now. And keep your mouths shut about what you saw here, or I swear I will personally drive a stake through your chest."
The guards moved, lifting Damien onto the stretcher.
As the king was wheeled out, Eryk cast one last glance toward the clinic’s entrance. Lucivar was already gone, off to find whoever could stop the terrifying condition of Blood City’s king.
Kyllian wasn’t the one who had delivered the news of Magnus’s death to Ravena, and so he had never witnessed the unfiltered storm that must have swept through her when the words first struck her heart. Still, he had heard she maintained her elegance. But now, standing at the threshold of her private chambers, knowing he carried yet another blade of grief to thrust into her already wounded heart, he realized there was no preparing for this. How did one even start a conversation that would end with the words your daughter is missing?
The doors were flanked by two of her personal guards. One of the maids slipped out after quietly announcing his arrival.
He stepped through into Ravena’s parlour, and even though the room was well lit and warm, it felt suddenly too cold.
"Your Highness," Ravena looked up from her seat. Her beauty was still formidable despite the years, her poise unshaken.
"I do not understand what has been going on," she said. "There are whispers that your wife was banished for treason today. I have been looking for you everywhere. I couldn’t find you." Her brow furrowed, a shadow of worry in her eyes. "What is going on?"
Kyllian’s throat tightened. He had rehearsed this moment in his head while climbing the staircase, but now the words refused to line up in a way that wouldn’t crush her. He swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to the floor, the carpet’s intricate threads suddenly fascinating.
"I’m afraid...I have worse news."
Ravena’s posture changed, her back stiffening. The queen mother was a second mother, a voice of counsel. And now he was about to break her heart again.
"Worse?" she repeated, the sharp edges of fear threading through the single word.
Kyllian couldn’t look at her.
Ravena rose to her feet in one graceful movement. "What... what is it?"
For a heartbeat, Kyllian considered softening the truth, but he knew there was no gentle way to deliver it. The truth was an arrow, and it would pierce no matter how carefully he aimed it.
"Luna is missing..." Kyllian finally said. His throat felt dry.
Ravena’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes widened in disbelief. "What? What? How do you know? She is the queen of Blood City! How can she be missing?! How does an entire city lose its queen?"
"She wanted to come home," Kyllian said. He took a step toward her. "The council sentenced the child to death, and she... she was already in labour. She needed to get out of there before they carried out the sentence. Myself and Talon were bringing her here, along with her physician, but—" His jaw tightened, a muscle in his temple twitching. "We were attacked by rogue vampires."