[Location: 99th Floor Of Vampire King's Castle]
"Well," I repeated, quieter this time, "exile prince."
The word tasted old. Rusted. Like something I'd swallowed a long time ago and never quite digested.
Carmilla studied me in silence.
Not the kind of silence that pressures you into filling it—but the kind that weighs you, measures you, and decides how much truth you can bear.
"An exile," she said slowly, "does not usually carry himself as you do."
I snorted softly. "That's because most exiles are busy proving they deserve to come back."
"And you?" she asked.
I glanced down at Eris again. Her grip on my coat tightened a little, nose scrunching as if she were dreaming of something mildly annoying.
"I'm busy making sure my close ones survive in the never-ending war for the throne."
The words settled between us.
Carmilla didn't immediately respond.
