"No! No! No!!"
*Gasps*
She jolted awake completely drenched in sweat despite the air-conditioning in the room. The familiar softness of her bedchamber in the palace enveloped her but she still felt unsettled. Her heart pounded, the echo of rogue vampires' snarls and Seraphine's silver light still remained vivid in her mind. She clutched the silk sheets, trying to calm her trembling her fingers as she tried to anchor herself to reality.
The room was dimly lit and the heavy curtains were drawn, casting long shadows across the ornate canopy bed. A faint medicinal scent hung in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of blood that still clung to her senses. Her eyes darted around, searching for the cave's jagged walls, the river's glow, the ethereal figure of Calithar. But there was only the polished wood of her chamber and the flicker of a single candle on the bedside table.
"Easy, my lady," a voice said, calm but firm. The palace physician, a wiry man with graying hair and sharp eyes, leaned over her, his hands adjusting a damp cloth on her forehead.
"You've been through quite an ordeal."
Elena's throat was dry, her voice barely a croak. 'Was he a vampire too?' was the first question that came to her mind immediately she saw him.
"What... what happened to me? How am I here?"
The physician's brow furrowed as he checked her pulse. "You were found in the forest, unconscious, three days ago. A hungry creature nearly had you, but the palace guards intervened just in time. You've been in a coma since, hallucinating, no doubt from the shock."
"Hallucinating?" Elena's voice trembled. The cave, Seraphine and Calithar had all been just an 'hallucination?.' "No, it wasn't... and I wasn't in a coma. I experienced everything, sir—"
"Dreams, my lady," the physician interrupted gently, though his tone carried a hint of pity. "The mind plays tricks under such strain. You're safe now, back in the palace."
Elena fell silent, pressing her lips into ainto a thin line.
None of it was real? At all?
The weight of his words pressed against her chest, but the images from the 'hallucination' still burned in her mind's eye. She touched the base of her neck, half-expecting to feel the raised, heated skin of the mark, but there was nothing. Just smooth flesh, clammy with sweat.
The door creaked open, and Elena's breath caught as Damien entered. His tall frame clad in a dark, long tunic gripped his muscles tightly beneath it. His brown eyes looked softer than she'd ever seen them. The usual sharpness in his gaze was tempered, replaced by a quiet rather solemn look that made her heart stutter. A maid soon entered carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of broth and a plate of soft bread, setting it carefully on the bedside table.
"You're awake," he said, fixing his eyes on her. "Good."
The physician bowed and excused himself, leaving them alone. Elena watched as Damien walked slowly towards her. He picked up the bowl of broth sitting on the bed table and stirring it gently until the steam curled in the candlelight.
"You need to eat," he said in his usual tone leaving no room for argument. He scooped a spoonful of broth and held it to her lips, carefully holding it in place so it wouldn't spill on her.
Elena looked at him wide-eyed but she was too hungry to care. "It's...it's too hot"she said slowly pointing at the bowl. Sighing, Damien returned the spoon to the bowl and stirred it again. He then too another spoonful and held it up to his lips, blowing it softly before holding it to her mouth.
Elena's cheeks flushed, her hands fidgeting with the sheets. She'd seen Damien as a warrior, a prince cloaked in danger, but this...this was new. His steady hands, the way his eyes remained on her face, felt intimate, like a moment stolen from a life she didn't belong to. She parted her lips, letting him feed her. She felt a pool of warmth flow into her system as the warm broth soothed her raw, dry throat. Their eyes met, and for a fleeting second, she imagined a different world—one where they sat like this not as prince and princess, but as something closer, something softer, like a husband tending to his wife.
The thought startled her, and she looked away, her heart racing and her cheeks flushing red. Damien's lips twitched, as if he sensed her unease, but he said nothing, offering another spoonful with the same quiet care. The silence between them lingered on until Elena couldn't take it anymore.
"Thank you," Elena whispered, her voice barely audible. "For...for saving me, your highness."
Damien's hand paused with the spoon hovering mid air. His brown eyes darkened and for a second, his features softened a little before going fully hard again. "I almost didn't," he said, his voice rough as he focussed on the soup with utmost attention. "If the guard hadn't reached you in time..."
He didn't finish, but the weight of his words hung between them. Elena swallowed as her mind flashed back to the cave, the rogues and...Calithar. That dreamy godlike creature...
Real or not, that experience had changed something in her, and she saw it reflect in Damien's gaze even when he tried to hide it.
..........
Three days ago, midnight...
The great hall of the palace was a cavern of opulence and grandeur. The court buzzed with anticipation in their seats as they feasted their eyes on the platform at the middle of the room. On a raised platform at the center, the princes' trophies lay displayed—beasts of the hunt with their hides marked with the weapons of their killers. A massive boar bore Prince Cassian's sword. A sleek, blue panther, pierced by Prince Lucian's scythe lay sprawled beside on the mat while Prince Severin's hybrid wolf-donkey remained behind the two other.
The heavy doors swung open, and a hush fell over the court. Damien strode in his blood soaked boots, leaving smears of dark blood on the pristine floor. His shirt was ripped from the arm right across his chest soaked with black ichor and blood stains. His crimson eyes burned fiercely with barely contained fury as he approached the throne, where King Alexandria sat with a grim expression on his face.
Damien dropped to one knee, his head bowing briefly before rising to meet the king's gaze. "Your Majesty," he said, his voice steady despite the blood dripping from his gauntlets.
Cassian, leaning back against his throne with a lazy smirk and his arms crossed, flipped his golden hair away from his face before facing him squarely. "Well, brother," he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery. "Where's your kill? Or did the forest prove too much for you?"
The court murmured, a ripple of tension spreading across the people gathered. Damien's eyes narrowed at his brother, flashing a death glare that could have frozen blood. Without a word, he took out a small leaf-like bag from his pants pockets and pulled out the severed head of a rogue vampire with its molten eyes dried up and its jagged fangs still glistening with black blood. He tossed it onto the platform, where it landed with a wet thud, rolling to a stop at Cassian's feet.
"Here it is," Damien said, his tone laced with sarcasm earning a scoff from Cassian. He straightened, addressing the king directly. "Rogue vampires have breached the forest, Your Majesty. They attacked during the hunt. The palace guards are dealing with the stragglers as we speak."
The court erupted in whispers, exchanging uneasy glances. King Alexandria's face remained impassive, but his eyes gleamed with interest as he studied the grotesque head. "Rogues within our borders," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "This is troubling news."
The evaluation of the kills proceeded and each prince's offering was scrutinized by the King and the high court. Severin's hybrid wolf was deemed the finest in terms of its size and ferocity. The king rose from his throne to make a declaration ."Prince Severin, you have outdone yourself by catching a rare hybrid. Therefore, I grant you one wish."
Severin got up and moved to the center before bowing to the King on one knee. Cassian's smile was the largest as he watched the King hand over the ceremonial staff, sealing the end of the hunt. His eyes glinted with ten shades darker as he clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Well done, Severin," he said, his voice smooth but heavy with hidden envy. "A fine kill I must say." Severin looked at him with a dull face before quietly returning back to his seat.
The king ordered the beasts drained of their blood and burned. It was a known ritual to cleanse the palace of their wild essence and prevent their spirits from attacking the kingdom.
What an irony.
The King got up to leave and the court dispersed but the princes stayed back as per tradition before everyone left.
Immediately the last court
In a flash, Damien crossed the distance, seizing Cassian by the collar and slamming him against the marble wall. "You pathetic bastard," he growled, his voice low and venomous. "You brought rogues into the palace? How could you stoop so low!?" he questioned him, his eyes blazing ferociously with unhinged fury.
Cassian's smirk widened, his green eyes mocking. "Glad you made it out alive, brother," he said, his tone dripping with false sincerity. "Wouldn't want to lose you to a few strays."
Damien's grip tightened on his collar till his knuckles whitened. He glared dangerously at him before releasing Cassian with a shove. He stepped a few steps back before vanishing from the court leaving black smoke hanging in the air...
Back to the Present...
Elena set the empty bowl aside. The meal had given her enough energy to be able to speak and move about on her own. Damien's hand reached up to her lips with a napkin, slowly dabbing the bits of bread and soup that were stuck there. The tenderness in his gaze was gone, replaced by a guarded intensity, as if he were wrestling with words he couldn't say.
"You saw something out there," he said as he continued dabbing her lips.
"Something more than the rogue."
Elena's breath hitched. Did he know?
She wanted to tell him about Seraphine, Calithar and the mark that had burned her skin in the dream but she didn't know how to start. Yet the way Damien looked at her, as if he knew more than he let on, made her doubt the doctor's certainty. He put the napkin down and looked directly at her, expecting a reply.
"I don't know what was real," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it felt... it felt like I was meant to be there."
Damien's jaw tightened, his eyes searching hers as if looking for answers. "You're safe now," he said, but the words sounded hollow, as if he didn't believe them himself. He stood, his shadow looming over her. "...and that's all that matters.Rest, we'll talk when you're stronger."
As he turned to leave, Elena's hand shot out and caught his wrist. "Your highness," she said, her voice trembling but firm. "Is...is there something you aren't telling me?"
Damien remained stiff with his back to her. For a moment, she thought he'd pull away, but he turned his head, his brown eyes meeting hers with renewed intensity.
"Some truths are better left buried," he said in his low, steely voice. Great! Just when I thought we were having a moment! Then he pulled free from her grip and strode out closing the door softly behind him.
Elena sank back into the pillows, a storm of questions running through her mind. The dream had felt too real, too vivid, to be just a mere hallucination. And the mark, the river, the shrine—they called to her still, whispering in the corners of her mind. She touched her neck again, her fingers lingering on the smooth skin down to her nape.
Nothing.
Outside her window, the evening wind howled, carrying the faint scent of ash and blood and somehow, it reminded her of Calithar...