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I force myself to be okay with it. They deserve each other far more than I ever did. They deserve whatever few tender moments they can have before the end.

18

BOOZE, BLOOD, & DEBAUCHERY

The blood that drips onto my tongue should be sweet, decadent.

Instead, it coats my tongue like ash.

I hand-selected the beauty before me, as well as two others, to join me in Nigh specifically for the nectar that I’ve known to pour forth whenever they break their skin for me. My father has never approved that I keep a selection of humans on standby, largely because he abhors the idea of having to keep them fed and housed under his dime, and because of the political discourse it can arouse when other noctis discover that the prince doesn’t kill his meals and has his own personal selection of blood. Those conversations can get particularly heated, especially around the Hunt when so many are thirsting for blood.

However, what he despises most is their mere presence.

Since the day they turned on him, he’s never trusted humans.

Only because I am a prince—and only because I threatened once that I would only eat the blood of pigs if he didn’t permit me this—does he allow me to shelter a small entourage of humans.

They traveled with my father, his journey far safer and more suitable for humans than the gathering party I headed. And I am eternally grateful they’re here. Given the events of the past few days, I’ve been thirsty. Only, no matter what I drink, I can’t quench my thirst.

Gently, I shove the young woman back. “This isn’t working.”

It's been like this for days now. Ever since those humans broke into the dungeon, I can’t seem to enjoy anything. Their arrival has struck a match to my father's paranoia, which had already been scorching after the reports he received of the Shadow Crusade. Now he’s tightened security even more.

How am I to uphold my promise to my aunt with the grounds crawling with noctis on strict orders to attack anyone behaving suspiciously? I knew it would be challenging to break her and her sons out, but it seems impossible now. Already my father's guards have apprehended two of our own, one man who was simply too drunk and had accidentally stumbled into one of my father’s personal quarters—an act punishable by flogging under even normal circumstances—while the other was a girl, barely outside of her youth, who had giggled at the expense of the king when she was among her friends. A harmless jest a few eves before the Hunt, and now her screams ring throughout these halls as my father delivers her punishment himself.

I fear I won’t be able to succeed in my task, but I worry I can’t ignore it either. How much longer until my father loses interest in Fox, in her children? How long before he kills them all? Could she be right? Is that what he planned for her so soon?

For Fox's sake, I've resorted to locking myself in my room. It's best that I stay out of my father's eye. It's the only way I'm guaranteed not to rouse his suspicions or bother him, lest I find myself prematurely sent back to Neveridge.

"Leave me," I tell the woman, throwing my legs over the armrest.

"But...sir?" She wraps a handkerchief around the incision on her bleeding arm and I am grateful to have the scent alleviated from the air. I just need to focus, clear my head. "Sir, y-you haven't finished. If you’d like, I can—"

For a moment, my tongue pricks with anticipation, but there's no appetite to back it. I wave her away. "That’s quite alright. I'm finished for now. If I need more, I'll summon you."

For a moment, she looks as if she might try convincing me otherwise. I don’t know whether to feel guilty that she feels so responsible for my well-being or touched by her concern. I’d like to think she stays here of her own volition, that I’ve provided such a fulfilling life for her and the others in my entourage that I’ve earned their trust and loyalty.

Her meek bow tells me otherwise.

I suppose I can’t blame her. Although I’ve promised she will have my protection for as long as she is in my care, I imagine it wasn’t much of a choice. It’s as my father said, the humans don’t want to give us their blood willingly, and it’s likely she’s only agreed to it out of fear of what might happen if she ever denied me.

Gathering the hem of her skirts, she scurries across the room to a table by the door. A freshly washed linen rests beside a basin, filled to the brim with red, glistening fluid.

My blood.

She dips her fingers into it without hesitation and hastily smears it down her neck, making sure that her most prominent veins are concealed. It’s the only way the others won’t feed upon her, the only way I can mark my—for lack of a better word—territory.

When she’s finished, she wipes her hand on the cloth and throws the door wide. She gasps, drawing my attention to the figure standing just outside my bed chamber.

"Come on," Caz purrs, a wicked grin curling up his cheeks. "I'm not that horrendous, now, am I?"

The young woman whimpers. I feel the need to intervene to put her at ease.

"Shows what you know," I tease him. And then to her I say, “Thank you for your generous offer today, Nadine. Rest easy knowing that with my blood on you, none will give you any trouble.”

She gives me a curt nod before disappearing into the hallway. Only once she’s gone do I realize that I’m not sure what will happen to her once my aunt and I are free from here. She and the others I keep on hand will likely be descended upon, maybe even tortured for intel they are not privy to.

Watching Caz casually enter my room, I’m tempted to ask him to take care of them and help them escape once I’m gone, but even that would put him at risk. I’m afraid the humans I’ve promised to keep safe are on their own.