A month drags by.

Ruby Kingsley chews through another dry sandwich on the velvet sofa. She watches the moon through the glass, her gaze lost in the silver light. It's the "nap life" she always wanted... mostly.

Victory means home. It means Angelina Arthur and the King. She stares at the dying embers and waits.

Wind howls against the stone. The Great Hall is a sea of ink. Only the hearth breathes a small, orange light onto her blanket.

The sofa is a raft in the dark.

The crust is like granite today. Her eyelids droop as the flames shrink. Adding wood means leaving the warm wool... a total nightmare.

A draft slaps her face. A rooftop window hangs open, the latch rattling. A shadow cuts across the silver moon... then vanishes.

If the wind kills the fire, she's a popsicle.

She kicks the blanket aside.

Her toes hit the cold floor. "You're actually here," a voice rasps from the dark.

Ruby's spine turns to ice. She twists around, her eyes wide.

Dion Lancaster stands in the shadows. His ruby-red eyes burn like jewels.

The fire catches the sharp line of his jaw. He's grinning... looking like a dawn that shouldn't exist.

Ruby just stares. No scream. No rush.

Dion's grin falters. He shifts his weight, his silver buckles clinking.

"Jacob Vraj keeps you in this graveyard?" He paces between her and the hearth.

Ruby pulls her knees to her chest. She tucks the wool around her toes and stays silent.

Dion's eyes narrow at the blue wool. "What... what is that? An antique? My mother wouldn't be caught dead in that."

...

Ruby's fingers dig into the sofa. Cold sandwiches were bad enough. Now the Prince is back to finish the job.

She curls into the corner. "What... why are you here?"

Dion flinches. He clears his throat and drops onto the far end of the sofa.

"Checking if you're still breathing," he drawls.

"You've seen it," Ruby snaps.

"You look like a ghost," he mutters.

"How did you find me?"

"Vraj told me."

Ruby's brow hitches. Why would the Duke leak her location?

"I see his face every day. Negotiations." He leans back, his fingers tapping the velvet.

Châtelet and the Kingdom of Aurelia are at a standstill. Jacob is the bridge... untouchable for now. Dion watches her blank expression and explains the map.

Ruby's eyes track his lips. A month of war... summarized in seconds.

"Why... why stop?"

Dion's gaze drops to her bare ankle peeking from the blanket. He jerks his hand back and stares at the fire.

"Too much blood. Soldiers. Civilians." His voice is a low thread.

"You can't win?" Ruby leans forward.

Dion taps his chin. "It's a toss-up. The sun is a problem... and Vraj took half the guard. The numbers don't match."

He isn't sneering. The usual arrogance is buried.

"I thought your kind was glass." He looks her in the eye. "I was wrong."

...

Ruby rubs her eyes. She pinches her cheek until it stings. No dream.

"You... you actually grew up," she murmurs.

Dion's pupils dilate. He snaps his head toward the door. "Shut... shut up," he whispers, his jaw locking tight.

"Did you see Angelina?" Ruby asks. "My... my sister. Princess Angelina Arthur."

Dion doesn't notice the slip. "I saw her. Vraj trails her like a shadow."

"She's the King of Aurelia now." He looks at Ruby's tattered gown. One sister on a throne... one in a ruin.

"I'll see her soon," Ruby whispers to the fire. A small smile touches her lips.

Dion tracks the curve of her lips. The brightness in her eyes is a jagged contrast to the way she looks at him.

Angelina Arthur treated the girl like a pawn, yet Ruby Kingsley looks toward the horizon like she's seeing a saint.

"Don't get your hopes up," Dion rasps. "You won't see her soon. She's back on the human continent."

Angelina is rallying the border kingdoms... sharpening her teeth for the negotiation table.

Ruby's shoulders drop. The light in her eyes dims for a second.

Peace is a good trade. She stares at the dying embers in the hearth.

Dion's gaze crawls over the mahogany table. It stops on a mangled, half-eaten sandwich.

"You eat this trash every day?"

Ruby stays silent. She doesn't look at him.

"I'll bring honey cakes next time," Dion mutters.

Ruby whips her head around. "Really? When?"

"Once the preliminary pact is signed."

"Then move faster."

Dion's heart gives a sharp, erratic thud at the demand.

Ruby shifts on the velvet, her face heating. "One more thing..."

"Speak," Dion says. His voice drops an octave, the tone dangerously soft. He clears his throat to kill the sound.

"Can you light the hearth? With the... blue fire."

Ruby leans back as blue flames erupt from the wood. It's a cold light that bleeds heat into the room.

She lets out a long, shuddering breath. Vampires have their uses.

"Can you turn the sandwich into a roasted chicken, Highness?" she asks, her voice dripping with fake reverence.

"Keep dreaming."

The room warms. Ruby looks at the Prince. "Why'd you do it? Why let me walk out of the Great Hall?"

"I felt like it," Dion replies. He avoids her gaze. "A daily good deed."

The sofa is a narrow raft. They sit close.

Dion inhales the sugar and iron in the air. His pupils expand as the scent hits his brain.

He stays. He answers every question she throws into the dark.

"Will the fire die when you leave?"

"It burns until the sun hits the spires."

"Good." Ruby closes her eyes.

The morning air is cold. Dion is a memory.

Ruby's fingers trace the smooth skin of her throat. No marks.

The world outside is a permanent ink-wash. Châtelet doesn't have a dawn.

The fortress is a tomb. She misses the shadow in the chair... the constant pestering.

She shakes the thought from her head. The lack of sunlight is rotting her brain.

Dion Lancaster is a predator. She can't forget that.

Seven days pass. Jacob Vraj is a ghost at the border.

The honey cakes never arrive.

Liar. Ruby tears into a dry sandwich.

Two weeks later, Jacob slams the front door. "We're moving."

"Where?"

"Leave the blanket. We go now."

The carriage waits on the gravel. Ruby hasn't touched the grass in three months.

The wind bites at her skin. She takes a deep, lung-burning breath.

"Where to, Jacob?"

Jacob rests his chin on his hand. His gaze is a dark, unreadable line. "The human continent."

"What?"

"The human continent," he repeats. "We have a house in the nearest border city. Everything is ready."

Ruby stares through the glass. The grey towers of the Vampire Dominion fade into the fog.

Time has no meaning in the dark. She has no idea how long she's been a bride.