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“You command armies because I gave you the power to command them.”

Lucan flinched.

“You exist because I chose to let you.”

As she stared at Lucan, Elarian remembered every ounce of hatred in her body for the vampire who had left her scarred and bloodied. Gods, she hated him. She hated the cruelty, the blood spilled by his hands, the centuries of suffering he had inflicted upon her and countless others.

But watching him crumble beneath Aurelion’s voice, she understood something that she never had before: Lucan did not act freely.

Not truly.

Aurelion knew exactly how to leave a cage door open while convincing the creature inside that it had chosen not to leave.

Reaching down, the Bloodlord caught Lucan beneath the chin.

“Look at me.”

Lucan did not resist. Elarian watched something ancient and wounded pass through his eyes.

“Good boy,” Aurelion murmured. “Perhaps I have given you too many luxuries.”

Lucan’s breath hitched as Aurelion released him and turned toward Elarian.

“Now,” he said softly, “let us see what my son found so precious.”

Lucan surged to his feet.

“No.”

The single word came from somewhere deeper than fear, but it did nothing to halt the Bloodlord. He moved toward Elarian without ever looking away from her face. She felt exposed beneath his knowing gaze, as if he somehow understood everything that had passed between her and Lucan with a single glance. Though she did not regret any of their interactions—even the strange, dream-like visits in the night and the humiliation rituals during the day—the thought of Aurelion using any of that knowledge against Lucan made her fury burn hot.

Shadows moved, and pain ripped through Elarian’s body a breath later.

It began slowly, almost gently, the pressure winding around her ribs until each breath became a ragged gasp. For one terrible moment, she nearly laughed. Her body remembered Lucan's shadows, remembered the strange pleasure they could coax from pain. Then, she remembered the true monster before her.

Aurelion’s shadows constricted around her ribs, pressing until every breath became a ragged gasp. A scream loosened from her lungs. He likes the spectacle of it, Ela, she chanted to herself. Just play along. Her knees buckled, but the shadows held her upright.

Lucan lunged.

Aurelion flicked two fingers. Lucan crashed into the opposite wall, the wooden panel splintering around his body before he slumped to the floor.

“Lucan!” Elarian screamed, this time just as raw and broken-sounding as she felt.

“Stay away from her,” Lucan panted.

Aurelion smiled.

“Still giving orders as if this is your palace.”

Another cold touch of shadows tore through Elarian. She screamed again, perfecting the display of pain she knew Aurelion enjoyed. Lucan’s shadows erupted across the room, but Aurelion’s were faster. They collided in midair with enough force to shake the chamber, black tendrils twisting against one another like serpents.

For a breath, Elarian thought Lucan might actually break free.

Then Aurelion closed his fingers around Lucan’s neck, and his shadows vanished. The Blooded Prince dropped to one knee as his hands clawed at his neck, to no avail.

“No,” he whispered as Aurelion dragged him to the iron chains still embedded in the wall near the bed.

Elarian’s blood ran cold with recognition.