Ruby finished her meal. She sprawled on the duvet of Solara Palace, scrawling reviews in the margins of Princess Ronal's novels. It was her latest attempt to kill the boredom.

The ink scratched against the yellowed paper... a one-sided conversation with a ghost.

She paused at a dramatic passage, the corner of her mouth twitching as she scribbled. "If the girl wants the Vampire Prince to stay, she should just take a slingshot and knock him out of the sky. That would be real entertainment."

She pictured a figure tumbling from the clouds... a figure with jet-black hair and a very familiar, arrogant face.

Her grin widened until it reached her eyes. She didn't notice the sudden drop in temperature in the room.

A figure sat in the velvet chair across from the bed, legs crossed, eyes tracking the movement of her pen.

"What's so funny?"

...

Ruby's spine locked. The air in her lungs stalled.

A familiar chill settled in the room.

She shoved the scrawled pages and the novel under the duvet with a frantic sweep of her arm. At the foot of the bed, Dion Lancaster sat with his chin resting on his hand, looking like a painting brought to life.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. The memory of fangs grazing her neck flared.

Not him. Not again.

Queen Bellaceline had followed through on her threat. The border drills were dead, replaced by a grueling schedule of ballroom etiquette.

Dion's lip curled at the very thought of lace and formal steps.

He'd spent the night crafting a workaround. A Bewitchment Spell had molded Felix's face into his own image.

The guard had no choice but to don the Prince's skin and march into the dance hall.

Dion slipped past the gates of Durell Palace.

The real "Prince" was supposed to be dancing, which meant the archery range and the stables were off-limits. He was a ghost in his own kingdom.

The silence of the palace grounds was a physical weight.

It had been centuries since he'd needed to kill time like this.

He scanned the spires for a sanctuary... a place where he could exist without a witness.

His gaze settled on the West Wing.

The reception in Solara Palace was anything but royal.

Ruby's face twisted as if she'd swallowed a live moth. She scrambled toward the headboard, pulling the duvet to her chin.

No bow. No greeting. Just the wide-eyed stare of a cornered animal.

"What were you scrawling?" Dion stood, his shadow stretching across the silk sheets.

"Nothing."

He stepped closer. "Hand it over."

Ruby's fingers tightened on the duvet. "It's... private."

If he saw the slingshot notes, she'd be dead. Or worse.

Dion leaned in, his ruby eyes pulsing. Ruby hissed and lunged for the far corner, clutching the hidden book like a shield.,

"I don't care about your human scribbles." His lip curled as he turned toward the window.

Ruby shoved the novel under the pillow. "What are you doing here?"

"You should be honored," he drawled. His gaze swept the room, taking in every detail.

The scent of sugar and iron hit him like a drug. His pupils expanded until the red was a thin, vibrating ring.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Bellaceline's warning echoed in the back of his mind.

He had to maintain the cage around his hunger.

He stalked into the study. Books lay open like wounded wings on the mahogany. He dropped into the chair just as Ruby burst through the door.

She lunged for the desk, slamming the covers shut. She gathered the volumes against her chest, her knuckles turning white.

...

He'd moved to find space. Now, she loomed over him, her gaze tracking every twitch of his fingers like he was a common thief.

"What is wrong with you?" Dion's jaw tightened. No one in Châtelet looked at him with such blatant hostility.,

His brow furrowed at the sheer audacity of her silence.

"Why are you here?" Ruby snapped. Her fingers dug into the leather spines.

"Why can't you just stay away, like Brian?"

Brian.

His brother didn't care if she breathed or bled. And yet, she threw the name in his face.

"Did he feed on you?"

Ruby stared. The seconds ticked by in a heavy, airless silence.

"Not everyone is like you."

He caught the edge in her voice. No. Brian hadn't touched her.

Dion gave a stiff nod. "Right. Not everyone is as accommodating as I am."

Ruby's eyes rolled back in a slow, dramatic circle. Dion ignored it, reaching for a stray book she'd missed.

"Why are you reading here? You have a library the size of a fortress."

The ink on the pages didn't matter.

"I want to see what your kind considers literature," he lied. He didn't look up from the spine. "Call it a research project. You should be honored to assist."

Ruby let out a dry, hacking laugh. "If you have time for 'research,' go finish your math homework."

...

Dion snapped his head toward her, his eyes flashing crimson. The memory of the corrected charts in his study hit him. He jerked his gaze back to the book, his jaw locked in a hard line.

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Dion Lancaster appears in the doorway at the exact same hour every day. He doesn't knock. He simply occupies the velvet chair and stays.

Ruby huffs, burying her face in the silk pillow. The dream of a long, peaceful nap vanishes. She should have learned a few banishing rituals in the Kingdom of Aurelia.

The lowest rung of the food chain yields to the top. Ruby stays still. She watches the clock and waits for the exit.

Dion leans back, his shoulders losing their rigid set. He inhales the air of the room. It smells of sugar and warm iron... it makes his pulse steady.

"Relax," Dion says, his voice a low vibration. "I'm not in the mood for a drink."

Ruby's lip curls into a sharp, silent sneer. Her fingers dig into the duvet. One bite was enough to kill any trust.

Dion's ruby eyes pulse with a brief, dark light. He looks at his bandaged palm, then back at her. "You... you don't believe me?"

Ruby stares at the floor. She says nothing. The beautiful, predatory eyes no longer work on her.

The next day, Dion snaps his fingers. Felix's face shifts into a royal mask to take his place at the ballroom. Dion blurs through the empty corridors toward Solara Palace.

He slows his pace in the silent West Wing. His jaw relaxes. Maybe it's time for a truce... a ceasefire between the predator and the prey.

He stops before the heavy oak door and adjusts his silver cuffs. Everyone in Châtelet loves the Prince. He wants that same heat in her gaze.

The latch clicks. Dion steps inside and freezes. A third chair sits at the small table. A man occupies the seat opposite Ruby.

Ruby is laughing. Her eyes are bright, her mouth curved into a wide, honest grin. Dion hasn't seen that expression since she arrived in the kingdom.

The scent of her blood hits him—sweeter and more frantic than usual. Dion doesn't smile. His knuckles turn white against the doorframe.