Eryk really understood what the king was going through—he did. This was a mate trying to find the other half of his soul. Still, there was a point where desperation began to border on futility. The night air was cold enough to bite through even the thick leather of Eryk's patrol armor. Vampires had already combed through the woods in shifting patrols, the roads were swept, and the borders beyond had been watched. Yet there was no trace of Luna.
"Your highness," Eryk called, his voice carrying across the clearing where Damien stood, tense and almost vibrating with barely contained rage. "There is no sign of her." His throat tightened after the words left him, because he knew they would land like a blade in the king's chest.
