Chapter 22
Kieran
The blade had been real.
That single thought kept circling my mind as I stood in the interrogation chamber, Merrit at my side. Practice weapons didn't draw blood. They didn't slice through air with that lethal whisper. And they sure as fuck didn't come within inches of severing her godsdamned neck.
Someone had switched the weapons. Someone had orchestrated the entire "accident."
And judging by the purple foam bubbling from the vampire's lips, someone wanted to make damn sure he couldn't tell us who.
"Poison," Solis said flatly, crouching beside the dying fighter. "Fast-acting. He took it the moment the guards grabbed him."
"Or someone gave it to him." I kept my voice level, cold, even as fury burned through my veins.
“Can you read him?” I projected to Merrit. “Before he dies?”
Her immediate agreement carried through our connection, but also her caution.
We'd been careful to hide what she truly was—even from Solis.
Her cover as a seer and the Whisperbound connection gave us a plausible explanation for some of her insights.
Visions, intuitions, the kind of thing that happened with magical bonds.
But admitting she was a full telepath? That would be a death sentence in any other province. And while I trusted Solis with my life, there were some secrets too dangerous to share. Not because I didn't trust him—but because knowing it would put him in danger, too.
"She might be able to see something," I said aloud, carefully casual. "Her ability sometimes gives her... impressions. Especially in moments of strong emotion."
Solis glanced at Merrit, then back to me. If he suspected I was downplaying her abilities, he didn't show it. "It's worth trying."
Merrit moved closer to the dying vampire, her expression focused. To anyone watching, she looked like she was concentrating, trying to catch some vision or impression through our bond.
But through our actual connection, I felt her dive deep into his fractured mind.
Her face went pale almost immediately. I caught fragments of what she was seeing: gold promised, orders given, a voice he couldn't quite remember, static where clear thoughts should be.
“Someone controlled him,” she projected, her mental voice strained. “Like Elias. His mind is broken in the same way—”
The vampire's eyes rolled back, his body arching in a final spasm.
And then blood began streaming from Merrit's nose.
"Saints!" Solis was on his feet in an instant.
I lunged forward, catching Merrit as she stumbled. A spike of pain lanced through her skull, the nauseating disorientation of a mind snapping away from hers mid-connection.
"What happened?" Solis demanded, concern etched across his face.
"Sometimes when she pushes too hard—" I kept my voice steady, even as panic clawed at my chest. "She's done this before. She'll be fine."
I felt useless as I shoved my handkerchief into her hand.
“Liar,” Merrit projected weakly. “I've never bled from this before.”
“I know. Which is why you're not doing it again.”
"I'm fine," she signed with one hand, the other pressing my handkerchief to her nose. "I got something. Just give me a—"
But she swayed, and I tightened my grip on her.
"What did you see?" Solis asked, his tone careful. He'd accepted my explanation about the bond, but I could see the questions in his eyes. Questions he was too loyal to voice.
Merrit’s gaze went unfocused as she signed, "A vision. Fragments. Someone promised him gold. But it wasn't..."
"What do you mean?"
Before she could answer, the vampire gasped—one final, desperate breath. "Elias... promised..."
Then he went still.
Silence crashed over the room.
Merrit's certainty flooded our connection. “His dying words don't match what I saw. Someone old. But the name was buried, and it sure as fuck wasn't Elias.”
“You're sure?”
“Yes. Someone put those words in his mouth. Or made him believe Elias was the one who gave the orders when it was actually someone else.”
Aloud, I said, "She saw confusion. Like he didn't really know who gave him the orders."
It was close enough to the truth to be believable. And vague enough not to reveal exactly how much Merrit had seen.
Solis looked between us, and I knew he suspected there was more to the story.
But he just nodded. "The mind control we've been seeing. It makes sense the memories would be fractured. If it’s compulsion and not a spell, it would have to be a vampire with some years under his belt. Elias is old, but not that old."
"Search Elias’ quarters, anyway," I said, the order tasting like ash. "If this vampire believed it was Elias, there might be evidence planted to support that belief."
"And the lady?" Solis gestured to Merrit, who was still bleeding sluggishly.
"I'll take care of her." I kept my arm around her, feeling her exhaustion and pain. "Start the search. Bring me whatever you find."
He hesitated, clearly wanting to say something. Then he just nodded and left, taking the guards with him.
The moment we were alone, Merrit sagged against me.
"That was..." Her fingers moved weakly. "I've never felt anything like that. His mind was dying, tearing itself apart, and I was in it—"
"You're not doing that again." I tilted her face up, checking her eyes. The bleeding had slowed, but her pupils were slightly dilated, her skull pounding. "Ever."
“We might not have a choice.”
“We always have a choice. And I'm not watching you bleed out because someone needs their thoughts read.”
Her hand came up to touch my face, her fear mixing with frustration. “I'm the only advantage we have. The only one who can see through the lies.”
“Not if it kills you.”
"It won't kill me," she signed, then swayed again.
I caught her, scooping her up before she could protest. "We're going to my chambers. You're resting. And we're figuring this out without you diving into dying minds."
She wanted to argue, but the pain was too much, the exhaustion too deep.
She signed against my chest as I carried her: "Solis suspects something."
"I know."
"Will you tell him?"
"No." The answer was immediate. "The fewer people who know what you really are, the safer you are. Even Solis. Especially Solis."
She looked up at me, questioning.
"Because if the wrong person finds out what you can do, they'll kill you. Or worse—try to use you." I pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Solis is loyal, but loyalty won't protect him if someone decides to dig through his mind the way they did Elias’. What he doesn't know, he can't reveal."
“You'd lie for me?”
The answer was as clear as day, and she fucking well knew it. “I'd burn the kingdom down for you. Lying is easy.”
I carried her through the corridors, past guards who straightened at attention but knew better than to question their prince carrying his bleeding companion.
By the time we reached my chambers, the handkerchief was soaked through, and Merrit's skin had taken on a grayish cast that made my chest tighten with fear.
I laid her on the bed, fetching clean cloths and water. The bleeding had nearly stopped, but the damage was done—she looked wrung out, hollowed by pain.
"Rest," I ordered, pressing a damp cloth to her forehead. "I'll be back soon."
“Don't leave.” Her mental voice was small, vulnerable in a way she rarely let herself be. “Please.”
The “Please” broke me.
"I'm not going anywhere." I settled beside her on the bed, pulling her close. "Solis can handle the search. You're more important."
“The evidence—"
“Can wait.” I kissed her temple, careful of her pain. “You can't.”
I felt her giving in. The exhaustion was too much to fight, the headache still pounding behind her eyes. She curled into me, and within minutes, her breathing had evened into sleep.
I held her, feeling her heartbeat against my chest, and tried not to think about how close that blade had come. How her blood had looked streaming from her nose. How fragile she suddenly seemed despite all her strength.
A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.
"Enter," I called softly, not wanting to wake Merrit.
Solis stepped inside, his expression grim. He took in Merrit asleep in my arms, then held up a cloth sack. "You're not going to like this."
"Show me."
He laid items on my desk one by one, each more damning than the last.
A purse of gold. Heavy, clinking, far more than a diplomatic advisor's salary would explain.
The forged sigil from the southern gate attack. The one that had gotten an assassin close enough to try for my life.
Coded correspondence in Elias’ handwriting—vague enough to be innocuous or treasonous depending on interpretation.
A map of the castle and grounds with locations marked. The southern gate. The Exhibition arena. My private chambers.
And a small vial of something dark and viscous that made my skin crawl just looking at it.
"Blood magic," Solis said quietly. "Or poison. Maybe both. We'd need to test it to be sure."
I stared at the collection, my mind refusing to accept what my eyes were seeing. "This is too much. Too convenient."
"That's exactly what I thought." Solis crossed his arms. "Everything we'd need to convict him, all in one place. Like someone wanted us to find it."
"Or like he's been sloppy because his mind is breaking." I picked up one of the coded letters, scanned the contents. The bird flies at dawn. The rose blooms red. The crown weighs heavy.
Nonsense. Or code. Impossible to tell without context.
"We need to question him," I said. "Now. But carefully—I want Merrit there when she wakes. Her impressions might tell us if he's lying."
It was the safest way to phrase it. “Impressions” from the bond, not outright mind reading. Plausible. Deniable.
Solis nodded. "I'll have him brought to your study. Give the lady time to recover first."
When he left, I returned to the bed, sliding back in beside Merrit. She was still sleeping, copper hair spread across my pillow, one hand curled near her face.
Weeks ago, I'd had Nadia follow her. The odd Divide bartender who knew people's orders before they spoke. I'd thought she was a seer, maybe useful for rooting out the traitor in my Court. A tool. A means to an end.
Now, watching her chest rise and fall, seeing the dried blood still crusting her upper lip from pushing too hard to save me—
Now, the thought of losing her made my chest tighten with a fear I couldn't name.
I should have let her rest longer. Should have waited until the headache faded completely.
But we were running out of time. And Elias—loyal, confused, possibly innocent Elias—was sitting in his quarters with damning evidence stacked against him.
“Merrit,” I projected gently. “I need you to wake up.”
Her consciousness stirred. Reluctant. Still hurting.
“How long was I asleep?”
“An hour. Maybe less.” I brushed hair away from her face. “Solis found evidence in Elias’ quarters. We need to question him, and I need your... impressions.”
Understanding rippled through her. She knew what I was really asking—Read his mind, tell me if he's guilty, but do it carefully enough that Solis doesn't realize the full extent of what she can do.
“Give me a few minutes.”
I held her while she woke fully, feeling the headache still throbbing but manageable now.
The bleeding had stopped completely, leaving only dried traces on her upper lip that I gently cleaned away.
Then, I helped her out of the ruined Exhibition gown and into something more practical—a simple dress that wouldn't remind us both of how close she'd come to dying.
"Better?" I asked aloud.
She nodded, signing: "Functional."
"That's not the same as better."
"It'll have to do." She sat up slowly, testing her balance. Her determination overrode her pain. "Let's talk to Elias."