Ruby wandered into the unknown.

Earlier, she'd ducked behind a pillar to avoid a cluster of maids carrying laundry. She'd turned down a Moon Archway that seemed to stretch into the abyss and just kept walking.

The diaries in her room mentioned the layout. Châtelet centered on Lyndell Palace, with long, arched corridors connecting the various wings like spiderwebs.

Gold-threaded carpets muffled her footsteps. The air here felt heavier... richer. Ruby's pace slowed, her shoulders tensing as if a thousand eyes were tracking her every move through the shadows.

Heavy boots rang out against the stone. The voices of guards grew louder.

Ruby's pulse spiked. She lunged for a door handle, but the lock didn't budge. She dove behind a massive porcelain vase, pressing her back against the cool ceramic and holding her breath until her lungs burned.

The guards marched past. Their armor clattered, then faded.

Ruby checked her pocket chronometer. Less than an hour until the breakfast delivery. If she wasn't in her room when the maids arrived, the peace of her new life would shatter.

She tried to retrace her steps. The Moon Archway was gone. She turned a corner, then another, but the hallways were a repeating loop of shadow and gold.

Her stomach cramped. The exhaustion hit her all at once, followed by a sharp, sudden scent. Sugar. Fresh cream.

Ruby followed her nose.

A small kitchen stood open. On the center table, a massive cream cake sat like a masterpiece. Ruby's mouth watered instantly.

She scanned the room for a spoon. Finding a golden one in a drawer, she dug into the frosting and shoved a massive bite into her mouth.

The click of boots on the stone floor stopped her mid-chew.

Ruby didn't think. She dropped.

She scrambled under the table, her heart hammering against her ribs. Through the gap in the tablecloth, a pair of polished black boots appeared in the doorway. They stayed still for a beat, then marched straight toward the table.

Ruby squeezed further into the shadows. If they caught her here, what happened next? She thought of Angelina. She thought of her family.

"Out."

The voice was a cool blade of silk. Ruby froze.

The owner of the boots crouched down. Ruby stared into the face of Dion Lancaster. In the dim light of the kitchen, his ruby eyes seemed to glow with a predatory heat.

"Why are you here?" he asked. The accent was thick and aristocratic.

Ruby's words died in her throat. She stared at the sharp, beautiful lines of his face.

"I asked you a question."

"I... I was looking for food," Ruby whispered.

Dion's eyes narrowed. He placed a hand on the cabinet beside her head, boxing her in. "Hungry, are you?"

Ruby nodded frantically. She felt like a mouse cornered by a cat.

Dion's lips curled into a sharp, fleeting smile. "I'm hungry, too."

He leaned in. His gaze anchored on the pulse jumping in her neck. His pupils contracted into needles, dark and hungry.

Ruby saw his fangs catch the light.

CLANG!

A deafening ring echoed through the small kitchen.

Dion's movement stopped. Ruby's hand was frozen in mid-air, her fingers white-knuckled around the handle of a heavy iron frying pan.

Silence followed the vibration of the metal.

Ruby had struck the Prince of Châtelet square on the head.

Dion sat back on his heels. His eyes went glassy, his focus drifting into a hollow stare. He'd never been hit. Not like this. Not by anyone.

His face cycled through a dozen expressions. His jaw worked as he stared at the floor. He pressed a hand to his temple, his shoulders shaking with a sharp, silent breath.

His brow furrowed, his features twisting with a mix of fury and genuine, stinging shock.

Ruby retreated further into the corner. She didn't let go of the pan. The silence was worse than a scream.

If the frying pan is this effective, Ruby wonders if she can just CLANG her way back to the Kingdom of Aurelia.

She peeks over the edge of the table. Dion Lancaster is not broken. His eyes burn a deeper shade of crimson, and the air around him hums with a lethal vibration.

He doesn't just want her blood now. He looks ready to tear her into ribbons.

Ruby's fingers go numb. A cold trail of sweat snakes down her spine.

"Did you think about the consequences?" Dion's voice is a low rasp.

He watches her tremble. A sharp, cruel satisfaction flickers across his face.

Ruby stays pinned against the cabinet. She's a pig in a slaughterhouse, waiting for the blade.

He hasn't moved yet. He hasn't touched her. The space between them feels like a tripwire.

"Answer me."

Ruby's jaw works, but no sound comes out. Her lungs feel like they've collapsed.

"See? Quiet is better."

Dion's gaze drops back to her throat.

His stomach twists. He slept through the sunrise and missed the morning feeding. The Bewitchment Spell he cast to find her drained the last of his reserves.

Without a drink, he won't make it back to the Royal Ascension Trial.

Dion leans in. His fangs graze the sensitive skin behind her ear. "Don't move."

He's going for it. He's actually going for it.

"Wait!" Ruby jerks her head to the side.

Dion's brow furrows. His upper lip curls back. "What?"

"I... I'm a fainter!" She clamps her hands over her neck. "If it hurts, I'll drop dead. If I die, the Crimson Pact is over. No more brides for a hundred years!"

Dion stays frozen. Ruby keeps talking, the words tripping over each other.

"I have a blood phobia. I see a drop and I stop breathing. Humans need oxygen, Dion. It's a whole thing."

The predatory mask slips. Dion blinks, his head tilting with a look of genuine confusion. "So? Why should I care if you die?"

"Vampires can't drink from corpses, right? You'll be halfway through and then—boom. Dead meat."

Ruby swallows hard. It's a weak lie. A child wouldn't believe it.

Dion's eyes go wide. "Don't you dare die in my kitchen!"

He lunges backward, clearing the space under the table in a blur of blue silk. Standing, he adjusts his white collar.

Boots thunder down the hallway.

"Your Highness! Are you in here?"

The professor's guards. Dion's jaw tightens. The frying pan hit must have shattered his Bewitchment Spell; the barrier is gone.

He looks down at the girl huddled in the dark. Ruby's shoulders shake. She watches him like a trapped rabbit.

"Prince Dion? What are you doing in the pantry? The trial preparations—"

A guard steps into the kitchen. He tracks Dion's gaze toward the floor. "Is something under there, sir?"

Ruby shakes her head frantically.

If he drags her out, she's finished. She should have stayed in bed. Napping never resulted in execution.

Dion's mouth curves. He catches her eye and mouths two words: Beg. Me.

Ruby's pride vanishes. She mouths back: Please.

Dion's smirk widens. He looks at the guard, his expression turning to stone. "Nothing. I'm coming. Get out."

"But, Highness—"

"Get. Out."

The guards bow and vanish. The kitchen settles back into a heavy silence.

Dion drops back into a crouch.

Their eyes lock in the dim light.

"How are you going to pay me back?"

Ruby opens her mouth to protest, but he cuts her off with a sharp, toothy grin.

"I know. You're going to find me here. Every single day."