Chapter 6
Merrit
The castle swallowed us whole.
Stone consumed sound differently here, catching every footfall and spitting it back hollow.
The air was cooler than outside, laced with smoke and iron as incense burned to veil the copper tang beneath.
Wards stitched into the walls hummed low enough to make my teeth ache, and every step seemed to drive them deeper.
Balconies climbed the walls like ribs of a great beast, torchlight catching wards that shimmered as faint as constellations.
The ceilings arched so high they disappeared into shadow, every stone a reminder that this place had been built to last longer than bloodlines, longer than kingdoms. It wasn’t just a castle—it was a cage grand enough to worship.
Servants lined the halls, heads bowed, eyes quick. Their thoughts pressed harder than the stones themselves.
Another one. Pretty, but rough.
No jewels, no silks, no chest of things—what is she doing here?
She looks like she came from the stables.
I bit down until copper bloomed again on my tongue, steadying myself against the urge to flinch. Kieran took my hand before I could draw breath. His fingers threaded through mine, sure as a man staking a claim.
The gasp caught in my chest before I could stop it.
He didn’t look at me, didn’t sign. He just kept walking, dark head high, my satchel tucked casually in his other hand like it weighed nothing.
On the outside, he wore the look of a smitten protector, a man ushering his newest obsession into his den.
But every muscle in his body was taut, precise, warding me like a shield.
Serenya fell into step on my other side, skirts whispering along the stones. She flicked quick, easy signs as she spoke aloud, “Ignore them. They’ll choke on their tongues later. Better to let them talk now.”
Her grin was sly, but her thoughts hummed sharper. Please don’t let her crumble. If he’s chosen you, they’ll cut deep to see you bleed.
Solis trailed a step behind, his bulk a shadow stretching down the corridor. He didn’t bother to sign, but his grin carried just enough teeth to look mocking. His thoughts betrayed him, anyway. Vireth help us, she’ll gut him before the week is out.
The hallways narrowed, staircases climbing and curling, until finally the doors changed. No longer plain wood or stone—these were carved, lacquered, their handles wrought-iron in the shape of coiled serpents. Guards flanked them, eyes hard, thoughts harder.
Another ornament for his collection.
He brings them close, but never this close.
Why her?
Kieran squeezed my hand once before letting go to push the doors open.
His chambers weren’t what I expected. They weren’t velvet decadence, nor the damp crypt I half-feared.
They were both—somehow. A long chamber stretched wide enough to hold a hunting lodge, beams of blackwood arcing overhead.
Tapestries covered the walls, dark with age, scenes stitched in threads of silver that caught the torchlight like blood.
A fire burned in a stone hearth big enough to stand in, its smoke carried away by unseen wards.
One side of the room opened into a smaller parlor with chairs and a heavy table.
Beyond, tall doors led to what must have been a balcony.
It should have felt domestic, even comfortable: the fire crackling, the table set for wine, the balcony doors cracked for air.
But the wards etched into the beams hummed like veins carrying power, and the bed loomed like a predator crouched in the dark.
Home and hunger stitched together until the whole chamber felt less like a sanctuary and more like a trap dressed in velvet.
And the bed—gods, the bed was a thing built for conquest. Four posts carved into spears, the canopy heavy with drapes of midnight cloth. The sight of it made the back of my neck prickle, though it wasn’t the bed itself that threatened me. It was the thought of being anywhere near it.
Kieran dropped my satchel on the table, casual as if this had always been its place.
The fragile bottles clinked together, and I fought off the urge to wince at any of them being damaged.
His gaze swept the room once, assessing, before flicking back to me.
That single look was enough to pin me where I stood as he dismissed Serenya with a curt nod.
She obeyed with a smirk, skirts swishing as she vanished through a side door.
Solis lingered longer, gaze flicking between us before he signed clumsily but clear, “Don’t kill each other.”
His grin stayed plastered on his face, but his eyes went raw—more worry than mockery. His thoughts, though, snapped against my skull. He’s too close already. Saints, don’t let her gut him.
Then he was gone, too, and the silence left behind felt dangerous.
The door’s echo hadn’t fully died before the air shifted. It wasn’t silence anymore—it was waiting. Kieran’s waiting. And I realized too late that whatever came next, I was already cornered.
For a handful of seconds, the suite held only the small noises of a lived-in room: the fire unhurriedly popping, the wards humming like distant bees, the faint scuff of a curtain.
The absence of others made the air tighter, as though the castle itself was drawing breath and watching.
I was suddenly aware of every detail—how the tapestry’s silver thread caught flame, how the ash on the hearth settled in impatient puffs, how the satchel on the table looked absurdly mundane against the carved wood.
Kieran didn’t move right away. He let the door’s weight shut behind Solis, then took two slow steps toward the table, removed his coat, and hung it on the back of a tall-back chair.
The motion was casual and practiced, but it carved the space between us the way a blade cuts cloth: clean, inevitable.
He watched me while he moved—as if he were measuring, not with eyes but with the piece of something inside him. When he finally lifted his head, our gazes met, and the air shifted.
I edged back a half-step, instinct tugging me toward distance, toward air. But there was nowhere to go—the wall was too close, and his presence filled the chamber like smoke. I lifted my chin anyway, a tiny rebellion, even as my spine screamed to flee.
He saw it. The corner of his mouth curved, faint, as though my retreat—and my resistance—were both expected and claimed.
When he came toward me, it was slow, unhurried, but there was no mistaking the intent. One step, then another, until my shoulders brushed cold stone. He caged the space deliberately, not with noise or force but with steadiness, the way a predator lets its prey realize there’s no way out.
My hand twitched at my side, the urge to shove him back coiling tight. He noticed that, too—his gaze flicked to the movement, then back to my eyes with cool amusement, like he dared me to try.
His hand rose, brushing a copper strand from my cheek, knuckles grazing the pale seam at my throat. The contact lingered, deliberate, his thumb pressing lightly against the mark I never showed to anyone.
“You’re not deaf,” he said softly, the words too low for anyone else to catch but bright enough to land on my skin.
My heart slammed against my ribs, betraying me. His eyes flashed as the faintest curve of his lips pulled at his mouth as though he’d been waiting for it.
“This scar robs you of your voice, but you hear me just fine,” he continued, thumb stroking the puckered flesh.
“Your heart gives you away, did you know that? Every time I don’t sign, it flutters like a bird.
” His gaze dragged down my throat, lingered there, then lifted to catch my eyes again.
“I like it—knowing I can reach you without moving a finger. That no matter how steady you keep your face, your body answers me.”
The words slid clean as an executioner’s axe and just as deadly. My skin prickled, and something darker than desire trailed it. He let his hand rest against my sternum for a beat, feeling the bird-quick beat beneath.
“Let them think you’re deaf,” he murmured, softer now, though the steel in his tone didn’t falter.
“Let them talk carelessly in your presence, never dreaming you can hear every word. That’s where your worth doubles—you’ll spy for me in silence, as the seer I know you to be, and as the mute girl they’ll instantly dismiss.
Two weapons, one blade. And all of it mine. ”
The room shrank with every word that fell from his mouth, tightening like a noose around my neck.
“Every vampire here will hear your heart,” he said, his voice a low rasp, thumb still circling that scar. “They’ll scent desire if you feel it. Disdain, too. Fear. You think you can hide behind silence, but your body will betray you if you let it. And they’ll tear you apart for the weakness.”
His words crawled under my skin, threading with my pulse until I swore he could feel every wild beat.
I forced my hands into stillness, fingers curling at my sides. Show nothing. Flinch for no one.
“What part,” I signed tightly, “am I supposed to play?”
Kieran’s smile wasn’t kind. He stalked forward a step, herding me back until the carved panel of the wall pressed between my shoulders. His hand braced beside my head, the other still at my throat, pinning me with nothing but presence. His gaze devoured mine, blue and merciless.
“The part I give you.” His mouth dipped, the barest breath brushing my jaw, close enough to smell the iron on his skin. “Tonight, you are my consort. Mine before every watching eye. They’ll see you at my side and think me smitten, and they will not question why I keep you close.”
The word slammed into me, harder than his body did. Consort. Lover. Pretend or not, it was a cage dressed in silk.
“And if I refuse?” I shaped the words like a threat.