Merrick sat alone in the dim glow of the hearth, the warm crackling of the fire doing little to soften the taut rigidity in his posture. A single candle flickered on the corner of the desk, casting elongated shadows that danced along the dark stone walls of his private study. The air smelled faintly of old parchment and wax, the musky weight of leather-bound tomes and ancient scrolls filling the room with a sense of history and gravity.
His quill scratched softly across a piece of thick parchment as he signed the final approval on the shipment of the next month's bloodwine reserves. His other hand steadied a stack of ledgers, records of inventory, feeding schedules, territory exchanges—matters of governance that never seemed to end. His jaw tensed, a muscle twitching just beneath the surface as his mind wandered for the hundredth time that night to her.
Caralee.
He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Her face had been haunting him in ways he despised. In ways that made him question his iron will. He had been careful. Deliberate. Calculated. Every step meant to keep her safe, protect her until she had been old enough to begin taking shape, into what she was destined to become—his queen.
The plan that failed all of her kin, and risked even losing her, had been abandoned. A far more extreme and severe option had to be taken. With it came even greater risks, and even greater consequences. What's done is done though. So there is no going back now. And yet, something trembled at the edges of his control.
A knock rattled softly at the heavy oak door.
"Enter," Merrick called, his voice a smooth command that carried through the room like velvet over steel.
Jacobo slipped through the door, closing it behind him with a quiet click. His face was unreadable as always, but Merrick did not miss the slight hesitation in his servant's step, the way his eyes flickered toward the floor.
Merrick stood, slow and deliberate, rounding the desk to lean his hip against its polished edge. He crossed his arms over his chest, leveling Jacobo with a gaze sharp enough to flay skin from bone.
"Well?" Merrick asked, voice low, expectant. "You have something for me?"
Jacobo cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back. "Yes, Your Majesty. As you instructed, I made discreet inquiries… I have learned something you should hear."
Merrick's brow lifted ever so slightly. He inclined his head. "Continue."
Jacobo exhaled, shifting his weight uncomfortably, as if the very words he was about to speak were jagged stones lodged in his throat. "When she first arrived, in the days that immediately followed— the princess—" Jacobo paused, glancing up briefly. "She had— an episode."
Merrick straightened slightly, his arms tightening across his chest. "What kind of episode?"
"Her fledgling thirst," Jacobo replied cautiously. "It was aroused. A human chambermaid had an unfortunate assignment in your chamber— While her highness was assigned vampire attendants only, due to her young age in this reborn existence. However there was an oversight. A human servant was completing her duty, changing the bedding in your chambers, it was close enough for the young princess to sense her there but luckily being in an adjoining chamber there was still enough distance between them. The scent merely stirred your betrothed into a state of mild agitation. Her fangs did descend without her knowledge."
Merrick's jaw tensed further. "Go on."
"Lydia, the head maid, sent immediately for a feeder to be brought to the chambers to intervene, but none were on the premises at the time. They were already attending others." Jacobo's voice dropped lower. "One of the younger maids, Sylvia, desperate to prevent harm to the chambermaid, did what would typically have been the proper thing to do, however the princess is a bit of a special case."
Merrick's lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.
Jacobo swallowed visibly. "She retrieved a slave. A thrall. Believing it might be sufficient to take the edge off. Sylvia reported that your betrothed exhibited— unusual behavior during the encounter. But before she could investigate further, she was ordered to leave the room. She did not witness what transpired beyond that point."
The silence that followed was thick and suffocating.
Merrick's voice was a blade when he spoke again. "And? Did you disco ver who the slave was?"¹
Jacobo's throat worked, his voice tight. "I— asked Sylvia to show me."
Merrick's nails bit into the fabric of his sleeves as his fists clenched beneath crossed arms. "And?"
Jacobo drew in a slow, careful breath. "She confirmed what we suspected."
The floor seemed to tilt beneath Merrick's feet. A roar built in his chest, clawing its way up his throat like a living thing. His voice, when it emerged, was venomous. "What are you telling me, Jacobo? Choose your next words carefully."
Jacobo faltered, eyes darting to the floor, unable to hold Merrick's furious gaze. "I am telling you it was him, my lord. The human. Donovan Crossoux."
A sound erupted from Merrick's throat—part growl, part hiss—a sound that curdled the air. His fangs bared as his fury ignited like a powder keg. He pushed off the desk with violent force, advancing on Jacobo like a predator closing in on a cornered kill.
"No—" Merrick whispered, as if denying the very breath that sustained him. His voice climbed, venom dripping from every syllable. "No. You are not telling me— she fed from him."
Jacobo flinched, stepping back, but Merrick followed, eyes glowing with a hellish crimson light.
"Answer me!" Merrick bellowed, the walls of the study trembling with the force of his rage. "Did she take him? Did she keep it hidden from me? Did she feed from him?!"
Jacobo's breath hitched, panic flickering across his face. "I—I—"
Before he could finish, Merrick lunged. His hand shot out, slamming into Jacobo's throat, lifting him effortlessly off his feet and driving him hard into the stone wall with a bone-jarring thud. Jacobo clawed at Merrick's wrist, gasping as the vampire's grip tightened mercilessly.
"Did. The. Maid. See. Her. Drink?" Merrick hissed through clenched teeth, every word trembling with lethal promise.
Jacobo choked on his breath, struggling to speak. "N—No— my lord— Sylvia— she was ordered to leave. She did not see it— It was only Lydia who remained."
Merrick snarled, his lip curling back in pure contempt. He released Jacobo so suddenly that the man collapsed to his knees, coughing and heaving for breath. The air around them seemed to hum with the force of Merrick's fury.
He turned, dragging a hand through his hair, pacing like a caged beast. Then, without warning, a great gust of wind howled through the chamber as Merrick vanished in a blur of motion, the heavy study door left swinging wide on its hinges.
Jacobo remained on the floor, clutching his bruised throat, gasping in the vacuum Merrick had left behind. The crackling of the hearth, once the only sound in the room, now seemed deafening in the aftermath.