Ruby stares at Dion. This vampire's logic must be a tangled mess.

"Get up," Dion says. He gestures toward the hallway.

They move through the corridors. Ruby's eyes dart toward a side exit, but Dion doesn't even look back.

"Try it," he says, his voice a low vibration. "I'll drop you in the Crimson Pool."

Ruby stills. She doesn't know what a Crimson Pool is, but the way the stone walls swallow his voice is enough. She'd only get lost again anyway.

They reach the entrance of the Moon Archway. Dion stops.

"Go." He flicks his wrist, casting a barrier. No other vampire will cross this path until she's safe in Solara Palace.

"You remember the way?" He gives her a flat look. "I'm leaving. Goodbye."

He turns, then pauses. "Don't forget our deal."

Ruby exhales. He's actually letting her go.

She turns toward the archway. Behind her, the rhythmic click of boots returns.

Ruby bolts. She doesn't wait to see if he changed his mind.

A blur of blue silk cuts through the air. Dion stands five feet in front of her, his back to the wall.

Ruby skids to a halt. Her jaw drops.

Dion adjusts his cuffs. He needs to know where she sleeps... for later. Besides, the professor is probably still waiting with a stack of arithmetic charts.

"What are you... why?" Ruby gasps.

"Why are you running?" Dion asks. His brow furrows.

"Cramps," Ruby blurts. "Stretching my legs. It's a human thing."

Dion studies her. He looks at her legs, then her face, his expression a mix of suspicion and genuine bewilderment.

"Fine. Keep running."

Ruby stays put.

They walk in silence through the Moon Archway. Solara Palace looms ahead.

The halls hum with activity. Ruby clicks her Pocket Chronometer open. Breakfast. The maids are already on the move.

If they find an empty bed, the King finds out. Then Angelina finds out.

"Is that a human watch?" Dion leans over her shoulder.

He sneers. "Crude. The craftsmanship is pathetic."

Ruby opens her mouth to snap back. A cold, slender hand clamps over her lips.

Her eyes go wide. She thrashes, her hands clawing at his wrist.

"Shh." Dion presses his other hand to his own lips.

Maids chatter in the next hall. If the Queen finds him here, she'll know he ditched the trial prep.

Dion doesn't use a spell. He just presses her back against the tapestry, his body a heavy, cold shield.

Ruby stops fighting. She taps his arm.

Dion's grip stays firm. He glares at the corner, listening to the retreating footsteps.

His skin is marble-cold. He smells of something sweet and sharp... like winter air and burnt sugar.

The hallway goes silent. Dion pulls his hand away.

"This is the Rose Gallery," he says. He looks at the heavy oak doors ahead. "You live here."

Ruby nods.

"Understood."

Air rushes into the space where he stood. A flicker of blue, and the hallway is empty.

Ruby stares at the spot. She's never seen anything move that fast.

Ruby drags her feet to the door of her suite in Solara Palace. The hallway is a graveyard of silence compared to the main wings. A breakfast cart sits abandoned by the frame.

The maids didn't wait for an answer. Back in the Kingdom of Aurelia, a Kingsley servant would have kicked the door open. "Rise and shine, Lady Ruby!" they'd shout, throwing the curtains back to let the sun burn her eyes.

A small, tight smile pulls at her lips. She misses the noise.

The eggs on the cart are stone-cold. Ruby picks at them, her mind drifting back to the journals in the study. The brides of Châtelet are ghosts. They see their husbands a handful of times, the rest of the palace even less.

The vampires preach peace and union. In reality, they don't care. The only immortal who has bothered to speak to her is the one who tried to drain her in a pantry.

Goosebumps crawl up Ruby's arms. Dion Lancaster is a nightmare wrapped in a masterpiece. He has a face from a cathedral ceiling and the hunger of a shark.

After breakfast, she returns to the study. She flips through Ronal's diaries and the others, looking for a mention of the younger prince. Nothing. Even in Ronal's steamy romance novels, he's a missing character.

Her eyelids grow heavy from the morning's sprint. She collapses onto the massive bed and lets the shadows take her.

"Meet me here every day."

Dion's voice vibrates in her skull. Ruby's eyes snap open. She hadn't said yes. She hadn't even nodded.

Silence is a shield. As long as she stays behind this door, the Prince of Châtelet is just a bad memory.

The day vanishes into ink and tea. Ruby stays pinned to the chair, moving from Ronal's unfinished stories to Melinda's sketches. Night falls, heavy and absolute.

She kills the main lights. Only the bedside lamp casts a dim, amber glow. She pulls the duvet to her chin and closes her eyes.

A gale screams outside. The window panes rattle in their lead frames, the wood groaning under the pressure. The silence of the palace is ripped apart.

Ruby blinks. The wind has died as suddenly as it began. The room is a mess of distorted shadows, but a new light source cuts through the dark.

She sits up. Her gaze anchors on the velvet sofa-chair near the hearth.

A white silk shirt gleams in the gloom. Ruby-red eyes pierce the darkness like twin embers. Dion Lancaster sits with his hands folded over his knee, his posture perfect.

"I told you to meet me." His voice is a cool blade of silk.

Ruby's heart hammers against her ribs. She scrambles toward the far corner of the mattress, the duvet clutched to her chest. Her knuckles turn white.

Dion watches the movement. His expression is unreadable, his focus sharp. He'd cast a barrier in Durell Palace specifically for her. He'd waited.

Bloodbound Servants are predictable. They are obedient to the point of boredom. But this human... she just ignored him.

Dion stands. He glides toward the study.

Ruby's feet hit the cold floor. The fear vanishes, replaced by a jolt of panic. He can't see the journals. He can't read the research on his own kind.

She lunges after him, her bare feet silent on the rug.

Dion stops in the doorway. Ruby almost slams into his back. Before she can retreat, he spins.

His hand snaps around her wrist. His fingers are marble-cold and unbreakable.

Ruby's breath hitches. She looks around the small room. No pans. No heavy books in reach.

Dion studies her face. The terror in her eyes isn't the hollow submission of a servant. It's jagged. It's alive.

He pulls her wrist toward his face. His nostrils flare as he catches the scent of sugar and adrenaline.

His eyes flutter shut. His long lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones as he inhales.

Ruby stays frozen. There is nothing more terrifying than a vampire prince in your bedroom at midnight... nothing at all.