Chapter 14: Temporary Situation

Marcel Thorne stood at the tall window of his private study, watching the night settle over the vampire capital like a living thing.

The city below glowed with soft crimson lanterns and the occasional flare of magic. It was quiet. Orderly. Exactly the way he preferred it.

A soft knock sounded at the door, interrupting his thoughts for a second. He hoped that it was Asher knocking at that door, but he knew better than to daydream at night.

"Enter."

One of his most trusted attendants stepped inside, bowing low. In his hands was a single sealed letter.

"This arrived by urgent messenger from the human kingdom, my lord. It bears the seal of the palace."

Marcel turned and took the letter without a word. The wax was royal blue, stamped with the human king’s mark. He broke it cleanly and unfolded the page.

His eyes moved across the uneven handwriting, and it didn’t take him more than a second to recognize it. Asher’s handwriting.

Marcel read every word once. Then a second time, slower, just to completely understand everything in the piece of paper before he acted or said anything.

...he put a ring on my finger and said I was his...

Those were the words Marcel focused most on. Silence filled the study, and for a second Marcel didn’t know how to feel or react to the message he had just gotten.

The attendant waited, eyes lowered, and suddenly felt the air in the room get colder.

Marcel folded the letter carefully and set it on the desk. His expression remained perfectly calm, but the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees.

"Prepare the car," he said quietly. "No escorts, I will drive myself."

The attendant looked up, startled. "My lord?"

"I will travel alone."

"But the roads at night—"

"Are not a concern." Marcel’s voice was soft, almost gentle. That was always the most dangerous tone. "Have it ready within the hour. Inform the council that I am handling a personal matter and will return when it is resolved."

"Yes, my lord."

The attendant bowed and withdrew.

Marcel remained standing in the center of the room for a long moment. He picked up the letter again and read the final lines once more.

Iam still planning to return. This is temporary. Extremely temporary.

A faint, humorless smile touched his mouth.

"Temporary," he murmured.

He moved to the wardrobe and changed into simple dark clothing—fine enough for a noble, practical enough for a long drive. He slipped a single long blade into the hidden compartment of the car’s side panel in his mind already, then tucked a small silver vial into an inner pocket. He walked to the tall mirror and regarded his own reflection.

He thought of Asher as he had first seen him: messy hair, thin frame, that ridiculous cheerful smile even while being dragged backward by a landlord. He thought of the way Asher had looked at him that day in the lower districts, equal parts terrified and determined to joke his way through fear.

And now a human prince had placed a ring on that same hand and called him *mine*.

Marcel’s fingers curled slowly at his side. He left the study without another word, and headed for the garage. He didn’t want to start a war like Asher had asked, it was why he was going alone.

The private garage beneath the manor was silent and dimly lit. The black car waited in the center bay—sleek, matte, and powerful, its windows tinted so dark they reflected nothing. Marcel opened the driver’s door and slid inside. The leather seat adjusted to his frame with a soft hiss. He started the engine. It purred to life, low and steady, like a predator waking.

He drove out through the side gates without headlights at first, ignoring the startled looks of the night guards. No one dared stop him. Once clear of the capital’s outer walls, he switched the lights on and accelerated onto the long highway that stretched toward the human kingdom.

The road was empty at this hour, and equally dangerous. But not many creatures dared cross a Vampire lord. His eyes stayed fixed on the dark ribbon of asphalt ahead, but his mind replayed Asher’s letter over and over.

He put a ring on my finger and said I was his.

I tried to take it off. It will not come off.

Marcel’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He didn’t want to think of the worst, but he was pretty sure that it was a subjugation ring, enchanted to always keep its wearer bound and subjugated to whoever had put it on them. He kind of knew something like this would happen, however he didn’t expect it to go this far.

He slammed down on the acceleration pedal. The car’s fuel cells would last the entire journey without issue. When the first pale light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, he simply lowered the visor and continued. The landscape changed gradually—vampire forests giving way to open human plains, then to the denser, more cultivated lands that surrounded the human capital.

By the time the distant towers of the palace appeared on the horizon, the sun was already high in the sky. Marcel slowed the car and studied the silhouette of the buildings with narrowed eyes.

He continued forward at a steady pace, alone, as the light of day grew brighter. The black car glided through the outer districts of the human capital like a shadow given form.

When the palace gates finally came into view, Marcel brought the car to a smooth stop a short distance away. He sat for a moment in the quiet interior, one hand still resting on the wheel, the letter folded neatly in the passenger seat beside him.

He looked at the high walls and the glowing windows of the palace.

Then he stepped out of the car, closed the door with a soft click, and walked toward the gates alone.

The palace would open for a Vampire Lord. And then he would see for himself exactly how temporary this situation truly was.