Chapter 16: His Choice

King Eric’s voice cut through the tension like a blade.

"Enough."

The single word carried enough authority that even the guards hesitated. Eric stepped forward, face pale but set. He looked at the line of men blocking the doors, then at Marcel, then at his own son.

"Having armed guards surround a Vampire Lord in the middle of my palace is the fastest way to turn a personal dispute into a massacre. Stand down. All of you. And leave us."

The guards looked relieved and terrified at the same time. They bowed quickly and withdrew, the heavy doors shutting behind them with a solid thud. Only a handful of the most trusted attendants remained near the walls, far enough to be out of immediate reach but close enough to run for help if the room exploded.

Eric gestured toward a smaller private chamber off the main hall. "We will speak in here."

Marcel did not release Asher’s wrist. He simply turned and walked toward the indicated room, bringing Asher with him. Aaron followed in silence, jaw tight. King Eric entered last and shut the door.

The private chamber was elegant and far too quiet. A long table of dark wood sat in the center, surrounded by high-backed chairs. Sunlight filtered through tall windows, illuminating the dust motes that floated in the suddenly heavy air.

Eric took the seat at the head of the table. Aaron sat to his right. Marcel remained standing for a moment longer, then finally released Asher’s wrist and took the chair directly across from Aaron, placing Asher between them like the prize neither man was willing to surrender.

Asher sat down slowly. He felt completely out of place. A former lower-district fortune teller who still sometimes checked his pockets for coins he no longer needed, sitting at a royal table between a Crown Prince and a Vampire Lord while the King of the human kingdom watched.

He was the only person in the room who did not belong there politically, and somehow he was also the only reason any of them were there at all.

Eric cleared his throat. "Lord Thorne. I understand this situation appears... poorly handled. Aaron’s claim was not intended as an insult toward you or your people."

Marcel’s voice was calm, almost gentle. "Whether he intended it as an insult is irrelevant. He placed my partner in a position he did not consent to."

Aaron rolled his eyes, he was sick of hearing that argument. "You speak as though Asher belongs to you. Dead things shouldn’t walk around claiming humans as their partner." He turned to Asher, expression hard. "I’d avoid him if I were you. Dead men don’t have feelings. They only see us as food."

The temperature in the room dropped so sharply that Asher’s breath fogged in front of his face.

Marcel’s hand tightened on the arm of his chair. The wood creaked. For one terrifying second Asher was certain the Vampire Lord was going to cross the table and tear Aaron’s throat out where he sat.

Asher moved before he could think. He reached out and grabbed Marcel’s wrist hard. "Don’t."

Marcel’s black eyes cut to him, still burning with cold fury.

Asher turned on Aaron, temper finally snapping. "You don’t know him. You don’t know a single thing about him. So stop talking about things you don’t understand."

Aaron blinked, clearly surprised by the sharp edge in Asher’s voice. He was definitely surprised, what sort of relationship did these two have exactly? And why would a human even stand up for a vampire?

Silence stretched, only shattered when Aaron exhaled, and inclined his head in apology. "You’re right. That was... poorly said. I apologize."

Marcel did not acknowledge the apology, if anything it made him angrier because he knew the piece of human garbage before him didn’t mean it.

Aaron continued, voice quieter but no less intense. "I didn’t claim him simply because I want him. I’ve spent months dreaming of him. Every single future I saw where Asher left ended the same way. I watched myself die, over and over. The only future where I survived was the one where he stayed."

Asher’s stomach twisted. He remembered the dreams Aaron had mentioned before, the way the prince had spoken of dying whenever Asher disappeared.

Marcel’s expression did not soften, but something thoughtful entered his gaze. He knew Asher’s gift was real. He had been saved from an assassination attempt because of it. If Aaron’s visions were tied to that same power, dismissing them completely would be foolish.

"And you believe possessing him is the solution?" Marcel asked.

Aaron met his eyes without flinching. "I believe keeping him beside me gives me a chance to live."

The honesty in the statement made the air heavier.

Marcel was silent for a long moment. Then he turned his head and looked directly at Asher.

"What do you want?"

The question was simple.

No one had asked him that since this entire mess began.

Asher froze. Every eye in the room was on him. King Eric waited, Aaron’s gaze was intense, and Marcel’s was calm but absolute.

Asher’s mouth opened, then closed. He swallowed.

"I... I want to return with you," he said finally, looking at Marcel. "I promised I would. I still intend to keep that promise."

Aaron’s voice was quiet. "And if you didn’t have that promise?"

Asher hesitated. The pause lasted only a few seconds, but it felt much longer. He thought of Aaron nearly dying, of the strange connection through the dreams, of the way the prince had looked at him when he said he refused to die again. He did not want Aaron dead. That much was true. The dreams and the blood and the near-loss had created something complicated between them.

But complication was not the same as consent.

Asher exhaled slowly. "Even without the promise... I would still leave with Marcel. Wanting you to live doesn’t give you the right to control me."

Aaron’s face tightened. He looked as though Asher had struck him.

Marcel’s expression remained unreadable, but his shoulders eased a fraction.

Aaron shook his head once. "I won’t accept that."

But Marcel didn’t care for what the prince accepted or what he didn’t. Asher had made his choice, now only one thing was left. "Remove the ring."

Aaron’s eyes flicked to Asher’s hand. "I can’t simply remove it because you demand it."

"It is not a subjugation ring," Marcel said, "but it carries an enchantment. Only the one who placed it can take it off."

Aaron’s mouth curved into something that was not quite a smile. "That’s correct. The only way that ring leaves his finger without my consent is if someone cuts the finger off. He either stays... or loses a hand."

The silence that followed was absolute.

Marcel’s gaze turned lethal. When he spoke again, his voice was soft and deadly.

"Then I have a better idea. Why don’t I drain you dry? I’m certain the enchantment will wear off once you’re dead."