The Vampire's Luna

Ravena’s hands flew to her mouth. "Not again! Goddess... not again." She staggered. "First they take my Magnus, now my daughter. What do they want from me? What else do they want to take away from me?"

Kyllian crossed the distance in two strides, he pulled her into his arms. She felt so small in his embrace—nothing like the regal force of nature that had once commanded the court and bent half the noble houses to her will. "I promise you," Kyllian murmured into her hair, "I will find her. I’ll bring her home. I only came for a change of clothes and supplies. I’m going back out there immediately."

Ravena buried her face against his chest, her sobs soaking into his shirt. "I forced Magnus to let her be with Damien..." she whispered, trembling. "Me, of all people—me—in support of a vampire being with my own daughter. But it was the only way to save her life. And now look..." She shook her head. "Poor girl hasn’t had a moment’s breath since she left here."

He tightened his hold on Ravena, feeling the cold resolve settle into his bones. Whoever had taken Luna, whatever their reasons, they had no idea the storm they had just unleashed.

"I have to go now." He glanced toward the corner where her personal maid stood. He gave her a brief, silent signal—a slight tilt of the head to take over from him.

"Kyllian..." Ravena’s fingers tightened on his wrist, and he paused mid-turn. Her face was streaked with tears. "Please... bring my baby home."

He met her gaze fully this time. The raw plea in her eyes nearly undid him. For all her regal poise, she was still just a mother—a mother who had already buried her mate, now teetering on the edge of losing her child. "I promise," he said simply, the words carrying more weight than any vow he’d ever made before. He didn’t trust himself to say anything more; if he did, the lump in his throat might betray him. With that, he turned and strode out.

*****

Luciver didn’t bother knocking when he reached Morvakar’s crumbling manor. Pushing through the doors, Luciver found him exactly where he’d expected—curled into a high-backed chair, surrounded by teetering stacks of books and scrolls.

Morvakar didn’t look up from the thick book he was hunched over. His long, pale fingers gripped the edges as though he was mid-crime. Honestly, Luciver thought, the man looked guilty.

Morvakar’s voice came first, dry and clipped, before Luciver could even open his mouth. "If you’re here because the Queen is missing—no, I do not have her."

Luciver raised a brow. "Why," he drawled, "would I think you have her?"

"Because a werewolf was here earlier," Morvakar said, snapping his book shut, "asking if I took her."

Luciver frowned. "Which werewolf?"

"The grumpy, broad-shouldered onen." Morvakar gestured vaguely, as if describing an especially aggressive furniture piece. "Looked like he hadn’t smiled in forever."

Luciver almost smirked but caught himself. "No, that’s not why I’m here....The poison... it’s taken effect on Damien. He’s hanging on by a thread."

Morvakar leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly as though this news was as inevitable as sunrise. "Honestly, I didn’t think he’d last this long," he said. "The mate bond was keeping the pain at bay. But now—" he tilted his head, eyes narrowing, "now that he knows his mate is missing, the poison is hitting him full blast."

Luciver stiffened. "So you knew this would happen."

"I predicted it," Morvakar corrected, a faint, maddening smile tugging at his mouth. "You have to admit, it’s fascinating."

Luciver’s jaw clenched. "Fascinating? He’s the King."

Morvakar sighed, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Yes, well... kings die too, my dear Luciver."

Luciver didn’t trust himself to reply. The urge to slam Morvakar into his own bookcases was nearly overwhelming. But Damien didn’t need broken sorcerers right now—he needed answers.

"I don’t understand how Luna is supposed to keep his pain at bay," Luciver said slowly. His eyes narrowed at Morvakar.

"I enchanted Luna’s mark," he said, as though explaining the weather. "When he is close to her—or with her—the effects of the poison are suppressed. Dampened. Like putting a silencer on a pistol... except in this case, the pistol is slowly killing your king."

Luciver blinked. "You enchanted the queen’s mark?"

Morvakar arched a brow. "You want to be dramatic about it?"

Luciver exhaled hard, pacing the length of the parlour. "Morvakar, Blood City cannot lose its king right now. I have... accepted the fact that my son had a countdown on his life...but I thought that with an heir, the throne was safe." His pacing grew sharper. "Now, the queen is missing, the heir’s life is being threatened—hell, I don’t even know if they’re alive. Damien cannot die now. Do something."

Morvakar stood. "Luciver..." he began slowly, "yes, I do hold myself responsible for some things. I’m not a saint. I’ve meddled in matters I had no business touching. But I have tried to fix it."

Luciver gave a humorless laugh. "Tried? I don’t see much."

"I already gave a solution."

Luciver stopped pacing. "What?...I never heard a thing about any solution. What are you talking about?"

"I told the king and queen months ago the remedy to his poison."

"And what, exactly, was this remedy?"

Morvakar’s mouth twitched. "The king didn’t like it. He wanted me to find another way, but I haven’t been able to. I promise, I have tried. It’s not a matter of brewing a potion and tossing it down his throat. The cure requires..." He hesitated, eyes flicking away. "...something intimate. Something the king wasn’t willing to do."

"You’re telling me my son’s life is hanging on something he refused to do?"

Morvakar spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Very strongly. And before you start shouting, I did warn him that time was not a luxury he could afford. But he’s your son. Stubbornness runs in the family, does it not?"