“What is it?” Ursula demanded.
“Okay, fine.” Emmaline exhaled heavily. “I could use your help with… um… something sensitive. Something only you can handle.”
“What are you doing?” Deyric lunged toward her, his hand reaching for the speak-easy.
Emmaline sidestepped him with surprising agility, clutching the device tighter as she twisted out of his reach.
Caelith, meanwhile, summoned a flicker of fire in his palm, the glow dancing across his features as he took a step forward. “Put the disc down, Kremmeline.”
“Stop!” Emmaline shouted, raising a hand to halt them both. “She’s a friend! She can help!”
“Ems!” Ursula’s voice crackled from the line, her tone rising in alarm. “Where are you? I’m coming there now.”
“Absolutely not.” Caelith took another step toward her, his fiery hand igniting with brighter intensity.
Deyric stepped between her and Caelith, his hands raised. “My Lord, we don’t need another body.”
“Another body?” Ursula’s voice shrieked from the speak-easy. Then, with an audible crack, the device in Emmaline’s hand went dark.
“Oh, fuck,” Emmaline muttered, grinding her teeth as she stared at the now-useless speak-easy. Her mind raced with the inevitable fallout. They’d never let her live this down. Margo would be making fun of her for the next hundred years. She could just see it.
“Get out of the way, Deyric,” Caelith snapped.
Deyric didn’t budge. His broad shoulders squared as he leaned toward Caelith. “My Lord,” he said again, his tone harsher now. “This won’t solve anything.”
Here we go, she thought, her breath hitching as she took a step back, distancing herself from Deyric. Ursula wouldn’t hurt her mate, but she’d see Deyric as fair game, even if he was just trying to protect her. Either way, she didn’t want to be too close. Blood was hard enough to get out of clothes on a normal day; if Ursula was furious, she didn’t want to risk ruining this dress entirely.
The blood began to swirl unnaturally, pooling inward like it had a mind of its own. Dark magic. The Vale didn’t ban it outright—how could they, when the Balance required it, not to mention all the spellsthat teetered on its edges? But those who wielded it were watched, whispered about, and always kept at arm’s length. Nobody trusted a dark mage, not really.
Blood magic, though—that was different. Blood magic wasn’t just avoided; it was forbidden, outlawed centuries ago, after too many experiments ended in disaster or worse. And the Council of Alignments hadn’t hesitated to enforce its ban with swift, brutal consequences. Even an accusation of blood magic could ruin a reputation or, worse, send someone to the execution block. It wasn’t as bad as Grey magic, but it was close.
And here it was, spilling across the courtyard like a living thing… with witnesses.
At first, it was subtle—a tremor at the edges of the crimson pool. Then, the ripple became a surge, the liquid pulling inward in a great swirl. A hand emerged first, clawed and black, tearing through the surface as if the blood were nothing more than a fragile veil.
Deyric moved faster than Emmaline’s brain could process. One moment, she was rolling her eyes at the gory spectacle; the next, his hand clamped around her wrist, yanking her backward with enough force to make her stumble.
“Stay behind me,” he barked.
“Get off me—” she hissed, wrenching against his grip, though her resistance was half-hearted. Caelith had also pressed in behind the emerald-haired man. It was the closest she’d ever been to him.
Always so dramatic, Ursula.She sighed, watching as her friend pushed herself upright, blood cascading from her broad shoulders and pooling beneath her. It filled the hollows of her collarbonesbefore spilling down over powerful muscles, slicking soft curves that did nothing to temper the sheer menace of her presence.
Her cropped silver hair, streaked with red, clung to her scalp until she shook her head once sharply, sending droplets scattering in every direction. Glowing like molten amethysts, her bright purple eyes locked onto the man standing between her and Emmaline.
“Step away from the woman.” Her voice cut through the air, far more dangerous than the twin long blades she carried on her hips.
Chapter three
“Youfollowedhimtohis fuck pad?” Cassidy tilted her glass of glittering orange nectar, swirling the flecks of infused stardust before downing the rest in one practiced gulp. She tapped the rim with a finger, catching the server’s eye for a refill.
“I wouldn’t say I followed him, per se.” Emmaline’s lips pressed into a thin line as she nudged the edge of her plate, where slices of honey-drenched briarflower toast glistened under a light dusting of powdered amber sugar. “Lord Baelin asked me to deliver a message.”
“And you had to deliver it right then?” Cassidy leaned across the vinewood table, snatching a piece of Emmaline’s neglected toast without hesitation.
Emmaline glared at her but didn’t protest, her appetite dulled by the memory of her poorly thought-out excursion.
“Where do you even put it all?” Margo said, placing a sliver of fish between her lips.
