"Get out, Silas."
Julian's voice didn't rise, but the floorboards under my bare feet thrummed with the vibration of it. He didn't look at me anymore; his entire focus was anchored on the man standing in the wreckage of the door.
Silas didn't move. He stood there, leaning against the shattered doorframe with a casual, predatory grace that made my skin crawl. He was blond where Julian was dark, his eyes a paler, more frantic shade of red. He looked like the kind of man who would set a forest on fire just to see how the light hit the smoke.
"You always were a greedy bastard, Jules," Silas purred, his gaze sliding past his brother to pin me against the headboard. "I smelled her from the West Wing. It's... intoxicating. Like a vintage that's been aging in a vault for a thousand years. And you think you can keep her all to yourself? In this dusty little room?"
"She is not a vintage," Julian snapped. The shadows at his feet were no longer just ink; they were rising, coiling around his legs like vipers. "And she is off-limits. To everyone."
"Is she?" Silas took a step forward, his boots crunching on the splintered oak. "Because the way I hear it, she's a Hunter. A little Silver Thorne rat sent to put a toothpick through your heart. That makes her enemy property, brother. And under the Treaty of Oakhaven, enemy property is to be shared among the Houses for... interrogation."
He licked his lips, his eyes darkening. "I'm feeling very interrogative tonight."
"Touch her," Julian whispered, "and I will tear your soul out through your throat."
I gripped the silver hairbrush tighter, my knuckles white. "I'm standing right here," I barked, my voice shaking but loud. "I am not 'property.' And if either of you comes near me, I'll show you exactly how 'interrogative' a Thorne trainee can be."
Silas let out a sharp, barking laugh. "Oh, she has teeth! I love it when they think they can fight back. It makes the first taste so much sweeter."
In a blur of motion, Silas lunged.
He didn't go for Julian. He went for me.
I dove to the left, rolling across the silk sheets as his hand slammed into the mattress where my head had been a second before. The force of it snapped the wooden frame. I scrambled for the floor, but Silas was already turning, his hand reaching out to grab my hair.
"Enough!"
Julian collided with Silas mid-air. It wasn't a fight; it was an explosion. The two of them hit the far wall with a sound that shook the entire wing. Plaster rained down from the ceiling. They were a whirlwind of black and blond, a blur of supernatural speed and raw, violent power.
Julian shoved Silas back, his hand wrapped around his brother's throat. "I told you to leave, Silas. I won't warn you again."
Silas snarled, his own hands clawing at Julian's wrists. "You're protecting a human? A slayer? The Council will have your head for this, Julian! You're breaking the Covenant!"
"The Covenant doesn't apply here," Julian roared, slamming Silas into the wall again. The stone cracked.
"Why? Because you've got a crush on your assassin?" Silas managed a jagged grin, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. "Wait until the Elders hear about the Blood-Singer. They'll take her from you. They'll drain her dry in the Spire and leave her husk for the crows."
I watched them, my heart hammering against my ribs. They were monsters. Both of them. But Julian's grip tightened, his eyes glowing with a lethal, terrifying light I hadn't seen on the balcony.
"They won't touch her," Julian said, his voice suddenly, eerily calm.
"And why is that?" Silas gasped, his face turning a bruised purple. "What legal right do you have to keep a Singer to yourself?"
Julian turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting mine for a fraction of a second. There was something in his eyes—a warning, a plea, and a dark, cold calculation.
"Because," Julian said, his voice carrying through the room like a death knell. "She is Soul-Claimed. She is mine, Silas. Body, blood, and spirit. By the Old Law, she is untouchable by anyone but me."
The room went deathly silent.
Silas stopped struggling. His eyes went wide, his mouth hanging open in genuine shock. Even the shadows in the room seemed to freeze.
"You... you're lying," Silas whispered. "A Soul-Claim? With a human? You'd have to link your very life force to hers. You'd be vulnerable. You'd be... insane."
"Look at the mark, Silas," Julian commanded.
He let go of his brother's throat and stepped back, gesturing toward me. I instinctively clapped my hand over the bite on my neck, but Julian's gaze was a command I couldn't ignore. I lowered my hand.
The wound wasn't just a scab. It was glowing. A faint, violet light was pulsing beneath the skin, tracing the veins in my neck like a map of glowing embers. It felt warm—too warm. It felt like a tether, pulling my heart toward the man standing in the center of the room.
Silas stared at the mark, his expression shifting from hunger to a deep, visceral fear. "You did it. You actually did it. You linked a Vane soul to a Thorne slayer."
"Now get out," Julian said, his voice cold as the grave. "Before I decide that being brothers isn't enough to keep you alive."
Silas didn't argue. He backed away, his gaze darting between us like he was seeing two ghosts. "The Council... they're going to find out, Julian. You can't hide a Soul-Claim. Not when the scent of it is this loud. You've just signed your own death warrant."
With a final, lingering look at me—a look that promised this wasn't over—Silas turned and vanished into the darkness of the hall.
I stood there, shivering in my silk slip, the violet light on my neck slowly fading back into a dull ache. I looked at Julian. He was standing with his back to me, his shoulders heaving as he tried to catch his breath.
"What did you do?" I whispered.
Julian didn't answer. He walked over to the shattered door and pulled the heavy oak frame back into place, wedging a chair against it. It was a useless gesture, but it seemed to settle him.
"Julian!" I shouted, stepping toward him. "What did you just tell him? What is a 'Soul-Claim'?"
He finally turned to face me. He looked exhausted. The crimson in his eyes had faded back to gray, but they were filled with a shadow I didn't recognize.
"It's a lie," he said, his voice barely audible. "A necessary one."
"A lie?" I felt a surge of fury. "You just told your brother—the one who wants to eat me—that I'm 'claimed' by you! You said our souls are linked! What does that even mean?"
"It means that for as long as you are in this house, no other vampire will dare touch you," Julian said, stepping into my space. He reached out, his fingers hovering just inches from the mark on my neck. "The Soul-Bind is the most sacred and forbidden law of the Sovereign Houses. It's a permanent link. If I die, you die. If you bleed, I feel the sting. It makes us... one."
"But we aren't!" I yelled, shoving his hand away. "You just bit me! You didn't do some ancient ritual!"
"The Council won't know that," Julian said, his voice hardening. "Your blood... the way it reacted to my venom... it created a temporary resonance. It looks like a Claim. It smells like a Claim. To anyone who isn't us, you are my future Queen."
"Queen?" I felt like I was falling. "I am a Hunter, Julian! I'm supposed to kill you, not marry you into some undead aristocracy!"
"You want to survive?" Julian grabbed my shoulders, his grip firm but not painful. "Because right now, the only thing keeping Silas and his friends from ripping you apart is that lie. You are going to play this part, Sienna. You are going to walk into that Council chamber by my side, and you are going to let them believe you belong to me."
"And if I don't?"
"Then you're dead. And probably in a way that involves a lot of screaming."
He let go of me and walked back toward the chair, picking up his glass as if the last ten minutes hadn't happened. "Try to sleep. We have a lot to prepare for tomorrow. You need to learn how to act like a woman who is madly, obsessively in love with a monster."
"I'd rather jump off the balcony," I muttered, heading back toward the bed.
"Don't worry," Julian said, his voice trailing off as he looked toward the door. "By the time this is over, the line between the lie and the truth might be thinner than you think."
He left without another word, the lock clicking on the outside of the door—a new lock, one I hadn't noticed before.
I slumped onto the bed, my head spinning. A Soul-Claim. A fake engagement to a vampire prince. My brother's face in the hall. It was too much. I looked around the room, feeling like the walls were closing in.
I needed to get out. I needed a weapon.
I stood up and walked over to the vanity, my eyes catching on my own reflection. I looked pale, my violet eyes wide and haunted. I started pulling open the drawers, looking for anything—a letter opener, a pair of scissors, a heavy perfume bottle.
The top drawer was empty. The second was filled with silk scarves.
But when I pulled the third drawer, it stuck. I yanked it harder, and a false bottom clicked out of place.
Tucked inside, wrapped in a piece of black velvet, was something cold and heavy. I pulled it out, my heart skipping a beat.
It was a dagger. A real one. The hilt was wrapped in worn leather, and the blade... I didn't need to test it to know. It was pure, shimmering silver.
There was a small scrap of paper tucked into the velvet. Two words were written in a sharp, hurried hand:
Trust nobody.
I stared at the blade, the silver reflecting the amber light of the room. It wasn't Julian's. He would never leave a weapon like this within my reach. It wasn't Silas's.
So who had put it there?
I looked back at the door, then at the heavy velvet curtains. The "Soul-Claim" was a lie meant to protect me from the vampires, but as I gripped the silver hilt, a cold realization washed over me.
If Julian was lying to his people to keep me... who was the "ally" inside the house lying to him?
And more importantly, did they want me to use this blade to escape, or was I being set up to finish the job I'd failed in the ballroom?
I tucked the dagger under my pillow, the cold metal a comfort against my skin, but as I closed my eyes, the image of the man in the hall returned—the man with my brother's eyes.
Was he the one who left the blade? And if he was... why didn't he stay to save me?